tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3487279925113315062024-03-12T21:32:19.792-07:00One girl's mad dash from New York to New MexicoReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-43214037589942734092013-02-02T20:26:00.000-08:002011-12-12T14:29:52.067-08:00<br />
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I decided to go on this excursion only two weeks before I left. It was a Friday night around 9pm. I had gotten home after a day of work of giving manicures and pedicures and I was slumped on the couch watching t.v. I had to take a leave of absence from what was supposed to be my last semester at school, I was only making enough money to scrape by, and my love life was down the tubes. If I didn't do something soon I knew that i would start melting into one with my old sweat pants and t-shirt and you wouldn't be able to see where my futon ended and I began. I poured a glass of red wine that I bought, thought about where I'd like to go, got onto Craigslist and called someone renting an apartment in Santa Fe.<br />
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Right
now I'm sitting in front of the fireplace in the communal room of the Adelaide
Hostel in San Francisco. I begin my first entry into this "New York to New
Mexico" blog in a city about 1200 miles northwest of where I actually set
out to go. I did get to that dusty dry town. However, about a week into it
I realized that I very well may have been only one of ten people under 50 that didn't have a back pack, a walking stick, and a dog. That and
the job situation was resembling something..well something scary. I started imagining a lot of Chef Boyardee in my future.</div>
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My neighbor
was an old man named Bill. At the beginning we were friendly and would share
chit chat over an outdoor cigarette about painting since he was a painter too.
One day he even invited me in to show me his "pointillism" paintings
and gave me a jar of turpenoid and a small canvas he had. Then he started
appearing at his door every time I went outside, which wasn't often. At first I
thought it was coincidence. Then one day I timidly hovered inside the door
frame with just my hand, my cigarette, and the smoke that was curling up peeking
outside, hiding so he wouldn't see me. But then I heard a door and the creek of
his lounge chair. I heard him let out a sigh and in a second I closed my door,
and decided rules or no rules, I was smoking the rest of that cigarette
indoors. On the last day I was in Santa Fe I was doing laundry and every
run I had from the washer to the dryer he somehow appeared outside. His last
words to me were "you left your outside light on”, I looked up and my
light was still on from the night before, “I thought you got lucky last night”.
I promptly decided to stop being nice. Dry clothes in hand, I walked inside my
apartment and shut the door. My flight was leaving that evening. I packed my
suitcase, cashed in my three dollar winning scratch-off, said one final goodbye
to the KFC and McDonalds down the road, and I was on my way.</div>
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However, before going further
into this second leg of my escape from New York to even more western places, I will
backtrack with my photos I've taken and start from the beginning.</div>
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<br /></div>ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-78572166616184978092013-02-01T11:26:00.000-08:002011-12-02T15:56:57.398-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ok, I missed my first train. So this is sort of how November 1st ended up.<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-54288663366827599992013-01-31T15:41:00.000-08:002011-12-02T16:09:35.565-08:00Leaving New York, going up the Hudson. It was a gorgeous day but I openly wished there was a snow storm to make me feel even better about leaving. Not that I needed much more of a reason, but its like when you go on vacation to somewhere warm in the winter. You want to know that you're really basking in the sun while everyone back home is suffering in 10 degree weather. Anyway, it was a gorgeous day. <br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-76150072782555830452013-01-30T16:11:00.000-08:002011-12-02T16:13:38.295-08:00Waking up the next morning to middle America.<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-11674989109964895552013-01-29T18:11:00.000-08:002011-12-02T18:15:57.269-08:00<br />
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We had a stop over for half a day in Chicago. Harold's
Chicken Shack and J.P. Graziano deli were the first places I stopped. Followed
by St Patrick's Church since it was there as I passed. It was rainy and cold.
Chicago felt gritty, industrial and comfortable. Halloween had just passed so
there were still leftover signs and decorations from the weekend.</div>
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<br /></div>ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-61678769259133053952013-01-28T17:14:00.000-08:002011-12-02T17:26:34.284-08:00<br />
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The next train connecting was leaving Chicago around 3:00 to
go to New Mexico. It was scheduled to arrive there the next day at 2 p.m., so
it was a 24 hour leg on this trip. I should have known when the sour faced
woman greeted me to take my ticket that this wasn’t going to be as friendly of
a train as the last one. It was a large double decker and she said we had to
sit in the seat she assigned; unlike the last one where we just grabbed an open
seat of our choice. I got into my seat and there was a woman in her early 60’s
sitting next to me. At first she seemed harmless, asking us where we were from.
But then she sat up in her chair on her knees, peered behind her and started
talking to the people there too. She left and came back, beer and nuts in hand
and said” I’m being naughty” and put her tray table down. She leaned in closer
to me with her dyed red hair and started telling me about her life and the Missouri
River. On the other seat in the row across was a clean cut woman with short
cropped hair. She carefully opened some food she brought and took out her cell
phone. She told me she had just been in New York as well, in Chelsea. Then she
said she was on her way to move to Los Angeles to stay in a homeless shelter. A
few rows in front were a young mom and her 2 year old daughter. I had seen them
in Chicago in the lobby. She kept yelling to her daughter” STOP IT, I said SHUT
UP” over and over again. I had been thinking what a horrible woman she was and
was happy that I only had to encounter her for a minute. Or so I thought. Way
up in the front of the car were two middle aged, gray and slightly round coke
heads. They stayed up all night talking loudly with newspapers strewn
everywhere. When I woke up at 8 am the next day one of them was still awake and
was talking to a woman next to him. You could see the look of horror in her
face from the smell of beer coming off him but she was just too nice to walk
away. I spent most of this train in the observation car. I was happy that the
nazi seat assignment enforcers let me go to another car to sleep that night
though. All in all, I was still happy I took the train. Here is what it looked
like along the way: </div>ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-45564270637162504162013-01-27T17:17:00.000-08:002012-04-14T22:41:39.943-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-71118580743779920332013-01-26T17:54:00.000-08:002011-12-02T18:19:07.252-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-42685032585732974042013-01-24T23:17:00.000-08:002011-12-06T00:06:41.666-08:00We arrived at Lamy around 2 pm on November 4th, and I headed to Santa Fe. I was pretty exhausted since I hadn't gotten much sleep for two nights. It was sunny but much colder than I expected. The shuttle from Lamy dropped me off at the Hilton where I was supposed to wait for my temporary landlord to come get me. I had an hour to kill and was starving so I decided to go get something to eat. After walking for about 30 minutes around town i realized that delis didn't exist in these parts and there was no chance in hell that I was getting a chicken salad on rye. Finally I came across a food vendor who was making quesadillas for six bucks. I ordered one and couldn't wait to get to wherever I was going and devour it.<br />
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My renter came to get me in front of the Hilton. She pulled up in a dark green Suburu hatchback type car. She had shoulder length wavy hair, no makeup on, and was a stout looking woman in her 50's. I put my suitcase in and we went to the apartment which wasn't too far from the center of town. They were little casitas, adobe style apartments, at the end of a dead end street. She even volunteered to take me to the grocery store since she knew I didn't have a car. On the way she gave me a small tour around the town. all of it seemed like a fog since I was so tired. To be honest I wish i had a car and was alone because I barely had it in me to make small talk. Although, it was nice of her to show me around. After going to Trader Joe's and getting a few things she drove me back to the apartment. "Would you like a homemade muffin?" she said. She pulled up a dark looking carrot type muffin wrapped in a sandwich bag. "Sure, thanks so much" I said. People here were already so surprisingly nice. Although the cynical part of me wondered what her motive was.Was it a poison muffin? Did she have secret plans to kill me and take off with my security deposit? (of course I ate it the next day for breakfast because I cannot refuse a carrot muffin). <br />
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The apartment was cozy and had a little faux wood burning stove. It felt good to have my own apartment again after having roommates for so long in New York. I put my groceries away, made a good latte with the espresso I brought, and took a shower. Shortly after, coffee or no coffee, I couldn't keep my eyes open and went to bed.<br />
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About a week into being in Santa Fe is when I started to wonder about staying. I had started a hostessing job at a restaurant in town. Before I left New York I was in touch with the manager there who said she had a position open and to call her when I got there. The place was called..shall I say " Marti's" . It wasn't bad but the money was. When I told her I'd have to cut back two shifts to take a job offer I had gotten waiting tables so that I could make it financially, she fired me. Apparently she thought making nothing for five days a week should have been good enough for me or any other high school student living at home with their parents. <br />
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I looked for a job but there wasn't much out there. I started spending my days going for a run at the Acequia trail behind my house and then making up for it by going to Walgreens and getting cookies or eating KFC and following that by some wine and a netflix on demad movie-thon every night.The surrounding countryside and mountains were so beautiful. Every day I saw them I thought" if only I had the money to rent a car". But my whole life the past year had consisted of "if only I had the money..", so I was getting tired of it. One of the reasons I left were so that I wouldn't be saying that anymore. Every day i would walk into town to go on an interview or try to see something. It was thirty minutes to downtown and I would bundle up and have my Pandora ready. I'd pass the adobe houses, the one house with the geese, the few houses with the dogs that barked outside, then I'd be in town. Every day there air was dry and brisk and the sun seemed to be eternally shining.There was also the statue of Guadalupe on the way as well with a bunch of homeless Mexican dudes loitering around. I kept thinking to myself that I had to get a job or get outta there. I was happy for the alone time but this was getting to be a bit much. After my daily town walk I'd head back home and wonder what I'd get to eat and what I was going to watch that night. <br />
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After another week of this routine I decided to leave. It was two weeks, three days, 30 movies, and about 12 candy bars, after I arrived in Santa Fe that I got on a plane to San Francisco. I texted a few friends to say I was coming for a while,and mama said I could stay with her for the first week. The city that saved me once a long time ago, and I always looked at as a refuge of sorts even now. <br />
<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-88132092253870692532013-01-23T00:06:00.000-08:002011-12-06T00:13:34.806-08:00Arriving in Santa Fe, the mountains the day after I arrived. It was cold and they actually had snow.<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-21767412754255529222013-01-22T00:16:00.000-08:002011-12-06T01:09:14.420-08:00The statue of Guadalupe where people would light candles and leave
flowers and the Acequia trail behind my house. It was so chilly that
shallow pools of water were frozen. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU57ul0j5P8_SPw1XhSpEFQOKN9n1PwgjP7_MxSLGE7JaoehDPrfTt4MzzjmVFPPQMhxgyq2hLqDGaVH5_SU_ZpHZboqtCZHIOGDYyW2ZB5_nQE0TC42TUTNyR2PkzO8zCbgz75pkJ/s1600/40smaller+%2528640x358%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU57ul0j5P8_SPw1XhSpEFQOKN9n1PwgjP7_MxSLGE7JaoehDPrfTt4MzzjmVFPPQMhxgyq2hLqDGaVH5_SU_ZpHZboqtCZHIOGDYyW2ZB5_nQE0TC42TUTNyR2PkzO8zCbgz75pkJ/s320/40smaller+%2528640x358%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-34207866966916541602013-01-21T00:19:00.000-08:002011-12-06T00:20:09.488-08:00One day I was walking on the street that had the house with the geese. A couple of doors down I saw this on someone's door handle. I couldn't resist.<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-85291054514723138232013-01-20T00:21:00.000-08:002011-12-06T00:23:49.862-08:00Nips, nips...everywhere nips. I've renamed Santa Fe "Town of Nips".<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-63896041362852707672013-01-19T00:24:00.000-08:002011-12-06T00:27:17.469-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-26721590251158857332013-01-18T00:29:00.000-08:002011-12-06T00:30:03.251-08:00Huge biker rally down St Francis Street.<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-27284493931764678252013-01-17T00:31:00.000-08:002011-12-06T00:33:08.069-08:00The full moon on the 10th of November and the Beethoven symphony I went to on the 11th.<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-83777222900616000732013-01-16T00:34:00.000-08:002011-12-06T00:36:04.426-08:00Near my place were two main roads. Every day there were vets standing on the dividers protesting the war. This was one of them. He said his wife was an artist.<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-28291780247408576682013-01-15T00:36:00.000-08:002011-12-06T00:38:40.862-08:00And then there was just this...<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-72144776581422611912013-01-14T00:39:00.000-08:002011-12-06T00:47:19.428-08:00Leaving Santa Fe. I swear I'll come back to New Mexico just so I can explore these mountains. But more of on an exploration trip and maybe I'd stop in Santa Fe for a couple of days. In a hotel. In the summer.<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-8127644524613975572013-01-13T23:49:00.000-08:002011-12-13T01:26:57.998-08:00<br />
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I'm taking a slight detour in the blog to dedicate to my grandpa, kamey-lou, the man who loved donuts. This week he passed away. I will miss him and will also be eternally grateful for everything he has done for me through my life. When I was little he used to have me ride on the middle of the seat of one of the trucks he drove for the state. I remember him bringing us little pies after he was out for the night plowing during the snow storm. Sometimes we would go fishing down the street in Long Island sound looking for shiners. We were inseparable for as long as I can remember. Even later, through all the places I may have lived, he was always there, always calling or sending a letter. So grandpa I dedicate this entry to you. Thank you for always being the solid, the man who tried to carry an air conditioner down the stairs for me, the person who helped make so many things possible that otherwise wouldn't have been. I will always love you and will always carry with me all the good you have done for me and all the love you gave. Thank you, thank you, thank you.<br />
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I got to Santa Fe airport thinking I was heading out that night. Just like when I left New York, I guess the first day out wasn't meant to be. US Air told us our flight was canceled. But they did put us up in this very nice Sheraton. I was definitely feeling more plush than the train ride out here. Cable tv, a flatscreen, and a king size bed. Why is it that you can have the exact same thing at home but it never feels quite the same as at a hotel?<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-38252833358564498722013-01-11T01:18:00.000-08:002011-12-13T01:29:45.988-08:00Like every other time I've ever arrived in San Francisco I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I understand why people came here in the 60's and I think that there are still remnants of the spirit of Jack Kerouac and Neil Cassady summoning people in and onward. As usual the sun was shining as I retrieved my luggage and made my way onto the BART. There was a plethora of empty cushioned seats and I sat in one of them next to a family that must have been flying in for Thanksgiving. We rolled out of the SFO station and I started watching the stops go by me. I took a deep breath in and exhaled as we passed an area closer to the ocean with high hills piled with San Francisco style colored houses. The hills were all covered in patches of pinks, baby blues, yellows and whites as the sun lit up the old victorians. The familiarity of them was comforting. <br />
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I was on my way to Embarcadero to get my keys from mama so I could let myself in since she was at work. I exited the train station and came up to the city. It was great seeing the place after not being here for 5 years. I tried to shuffle my suitcase around the few people on the sidewalk as I was balancing talking on my cell phone at the same time. Mama told me where to meet her. "So no Santa Fe huh?" "No" I said. I got her keys, got on the bus and made my way toward Haight st. I had a minute to drop off my bags and go to my first job interview.<br />
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I walked into the restaurant where I was told I was to meet with a guy named Dave. I saw a man in a white shirt setting up a table outside. "Thats not too bad" I thought to myself. The uniform looked ok and he was kind of cute. But I hadn't prepared myself for what I was about to see as I walked in. Waiters in pseudo 14th century style Chinese clothing. Gasp. Would I have to wear this if I got hired?? Maybe that was just the bus boy? I had seen a guy in a white shirt. It turns out that everyone was wearing the dreadful ancient Chinese garb. The guy in the shirt was the manager. I felt like this would be like some sort of working at Chuck-E-Cheese style humiliation. Like a place that you would NEVER admit to working at and you sure as hell weren't going to have any of your friends come in to eat, never mind pick anyone one up or get a date out of this place. They told me to fill out the application while I waited for Dave. "Oh god, an application" I thought. I always hated filling out applications for places that you were handing your resume to. The questions were always ridiculous. Things like "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" "I hope to hell not waiting tables at your crappy restaurant dressed in ancient Chinese garb because then I may want to shoot myself." Man I always wished I had the guts to write something like that. One of the questions was"What is your favorite wine and why?" Ok, I wrote the name of my favorite wine and said "because its awesome."<br />
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I didn't take the job at that restaurant. They didn't exactly call me either. But man, I love San Francisco.<br />
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. .ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-77508465966180415482013-01-10T01:39:00.000-08:002011-12-13T01:39:48.225-08:00Thanksgiving we went to Ingrid's friend's house. I had never seen a table set for so many people. It was a big international mish mash of Scandinavians, Ukrainians, and Americans. Oh, and a couple of Irish as well. There was a lot of snaps and singing a couple of snaps songs between shots over dinner.<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-12756286381183933292013-01-09T01:02:00.000-08:002011-12-23T02:08:42.252-08:00Flashing forward to the next week after Thanksgiving... After arriving at the Adelaide hostel I had gotten an email from my friend Vicky in response to me telling her I was in town. I had heard that she had fallen on some hard times herself and was sort of moving about. I wanted to see her but to also ask her if she knew a good SRO to stay at or had any tips. She ended up writing me back right away and said she was actually staying at the Adelaide that night as well. It was very ironic since the first time we met it was through a hostel. Many many years ago when I arrived in San Francisco for the first time I stayed at this hostel on Folsom Street and we were roommates. Vicky is from England and has a strong, tough British accent and can hold her own. She likes Metallica and remember her saying that her favorite band was Stiff Little Fingers. Never had I in a million years imagined that we would be meeting again in a hostel over 10 years later. But we met up that night and had a few beers in the Tenderloin. One being at the Gangway. Some places never change.<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348727992511331506.post-1804914335885799742013-01-08T01:10:00.000-08:002011-12-23T02:09:53.501-08:00Killing time one night in Union Square. The sun had set not long before and I was sitting on a ledge watching the ice skaters. It felt like Christmas but in a city that was much warmer than New York at this time. I thought the combination of palm trees and Christmas lights felt pretty foreign and ironic. As I looked up at the blue sky that was more west than east, I couldn't help but feel slightly home sick.<br />
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<br />ReneeVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00648491935630404317noreply@blogger.com