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Tag Archives: hostel

Seeing Seattle

I booked a bed at the local American Hotel HI in the Asian side of Seattle. Being the friendly hostel veteran that I am, I quickly made friends with another solo traveler – a really sweet girl from Uruguay who was traversing the U.S. after her study abroad. We checked out a local noodle shop and then walked to the harbor. Next door to the hostel was also a dessert shop. It was so colorful that you just had to walk in. The shelves were lined with beautifully decorated cake slices of every flavor. The menu also included every kind of Boba Tea you could imagine.

 

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Left My Home in Georgia, Headed to the ‘Frisco Bay

San Francisco is the weirdest place I’ve been. I heard I would love it. I heard I could make way more money if I lived there. Well, I suppose I could make more money if I lived there, but considering the price of rent it wouldn’t really mean very much. The hostel was twice as expensive as any hostel on my trip. In addition to being more expensive, I also had to pay $24 for 24 hours to park my car in a nearby garage. I did the math and determined I wasn’t going to be staying in San Francisco for very long.

The HI San Francisco City Center was one of the most beautiful hostels. I rolled my suitcase across the marble floor of the lobby in the old 1920s hotel feeling elegant. The hostel was filled with unique and beautiful decorations, a chic romantically lit bar and a mezzanine on the second story that overlooked the lobby. They played old black and white movies at night, but I didn’t stay in very much.

I spent some time walking around the neighborhood aka Little Saigon. San Francisco is filled with beautiful architecture, there were interesting shops and galleries in the area to stop in, murals to take pictures of and TONS of homeless people. Actually all of San Francisco is filled with people living on the street, which makes the entire city kinda dirty (um… that poop on the sidewalk probably isn’t dog poop. Dog owners are pretty good about scooping up in California. Sidewalk squatters aren’t quite as considerate.) Feeling a little overwhelmed, I decided to call the one person I know in San Francisco – my friend Robin I met at the hostel in Austin during SXSW. Here’s the recap if you want the background story.

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Viva Las Vegas

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I planned to camp at Mead Lake before entering Las Vegas. Along the road I was distracted by the little Route 66 town of Seligman, Arizona. I had to stop for a float and to walk the streets filled with antique cars and vintage storefronts.

Seligman put me about an hour off of my estimated arrival time and I pulled into the Lake Mead area to witness a sunset over that strange landscape and the locked doors of the visitor’s center. After determining that it would be impossible to find a camping spot in the dark, I headed to the little town of Boulder City, NV. While the town looked quite cozy and cute, even after dark it was ridiculously expensive. My jaw dropped at the price of the absolute seediest cheap motel in town.

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I decided to call a hostel in Las Vegas and head into the city a little early. They asked if I was a student. I told them I was. They asked if I had a student ID. I said I did. Las Vegas isn’t really known for being the sort of place where people are very honest anyway. I’m not a very good liar. The guy behind the front desk asked me about my trip and I went on and on. Lies tend to lead to more lies – “So, how are you doing all this traveling while in school?””Online classes.””Oh, Cool. What are you planning on doing when you finish this trip?””Well, other than school, I have this little side graphic design/website business… it would be great to do it full-time.”

Obviously a converted old hotel, I checked into my room at the USA Hostel. I opened the door on three college girls from the U.K. spraying perfume and dry shampoo. They were trying on their fancy dresses and heels about to go out for some “posh” nightlife at one of those “posh” casinos. I asked if I could go along and I tried not to look like the hipster road bum I had become. We waited for forever for a cab, so long that we about gave up on going out. It finally showed up around 12:30 a.m.

Time doesn’t matter in Vegas. Read the rest of this entry

Santa Fe

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I pulled around to the workshop behind a hotel for the maintenance man to help me fill my tires with air. The weather in the desert really takes a toll on tire pressure. He said, “You’re travelin’ by yourself? Go get yourself  a little somethin’ to eat in Roswell and fill up for gas. After you get through town there won’t be nothin’.” I didn’t think he literally meant “nothin'”. I thought there would certainly be a tree or two, maybe an abandoned building, maybe a lone gas station…. nope. There was nothing after Roswell for three hours. Not even a tree. I couldn’t pick up a radio station.

I drove and drove listening to the three CD’s I had in the car over and over again. I was so happy when I finally came to this little town where I could fill up for gas and grab a hamburger at a diner. I reached Santa Fe in the dark relieved that I was no longer on the road!

The Diner

The Diner

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Way out West Texas

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My car parked by the Marfa Lights viewing area.

In the morning I left Manor with a cooler my Couchsurfing host, Bill filled with left-over pizza we made from scratch the night before, a bottle of salad dressing, and lettuce. I prepared the best I could for this drive by filling up two water bottles and my Platypus with that wonderful Texas rain water. Bill let me know, “You’ll be happy to have that rain water when you get to west Texas, all their water is so hard and filled with sulfur.” I packed the car, Bill gave me a c.d. for the trip and I said my goodbyes.

I must admit, I really didn’t know what I was going to experience over the next six and a half hours. I didn’t expect much. When you look at the map west Texas just looks like this long stretch of NOTHING and it looks hot and flat. Even from the map, I could imagine hours of heat reflecting off concrete and driving cowboy riding into the sunset style.

Once you get on the road, you realize that while the world (and even those who live in the east side of the state) imagine this to be true, it is the furthest thing from the truth.

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HI Austin

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SXSW

SXSW

My first week in Austin, I stayed at the Hostel International. It was jammed packed for SXSW. I think I reserved the last spot available 3 months earlier. The place was filled with developers from all over for interactive and Australians for film. The hostel is located right on the Colorado River and you can sit outside on picnic tables and hang out by this dock. The weather was perfect!

My first day in Austin, I offered a ride to this Chinese-American user-interface developer from San Francisco (Robin), who was also staying at the hostel. He needed to stop by the Car-To-Go rental place to get his key and I was having a ridiculous taco craving. We ended up meandering through this very hilly neighborhood with adorable houses and I tried to figure out with all the one-way streets how to get to the car rental store. I ended up just parking on a side street and walking to this place Tacos and Tequila. He wanted to treat me since I drove him and I’m not really one to turn down being treated. The tacos were amazing. They had three different ones offered for happy hour with a toppings bar. The brisket was the best. We sat at the bar sampling tacos and mixed drinks. After the restaurant we

Don's Depot

Don’s Depot

decided to catch a bus and check out downtown. For some reason Robin decided to start treating me all girlfriendy, but I didn’t really care. He was a sweet guy to escort me around with his hand on the small of my back and lend me his jacket.  When we walked back to my car, we were surprised to find a happening neighborhood bar right next to where I parked. We hung out in Donn’s Depot for a while for a bit of authentic Texas entertainment. Located inside an old train car, it was filled with older people two-stepping to the band… and the band played a mean harmonica. Read the rest of this entry

The Start

Starting from the charming town of Thomasville, Georgia.

Starting from the charming town of Thomasville, Georgia.

Everyone at one time or another struggles to understand who they are, what they want to do and what they want to be. I still struggle with this. As a kid you know what you’re going to be when you grow-up or at least you know you’ll have it figured out by the time are a grown-up, which must be age 18.

For a time, I thought I wanted to be an advertising copywriter, and eventually a creative director. I religiously read the blog Makin’ Ads by Greg Christensen for years, watched my YouTube playlist of commercials, visited many agency websites and re-read It’s Not How Good You Are, It’s How Good You Want to Be by Paul Arden.  This led me to a solo train trip to Richmond, Virginia for an interview with the VCU Brandcenter.

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