Yes, a hostel. My first home in the city was a place vacationers stay, my first job working with those vacationers. It was quite a shock to this then-23 year old who had gone from the family home in Fresno to a safe, cushy dorm at Santa Clara University where 60 of us had our own rooms and a chef. My life in the hostel was an adventure, from sharing a room with four others to having to fend for myself for breakfast, lunch and dinner while learning to navigate a major city. Living with those on vacation while having to get up and head to work is a challenge, though I had little competition for the shower early in the morning!
But I wouldn't have had it any other way. From the hostel, I moved into a residential hotel in the Tenderloin--with a Mongolian roommate who wanted to use my cell phone to call home, to a fantastic sublet in Cole Valley (near the Haight for you non-San Francisco types, a cute little neighborhood), back to the hostel and then to the house at 1906 Great Highway overlooking the ocean with 4 roommates---and from there to my two weeks in Oakland (meant to be longer), my first solo apartment with bigtime wiring and construction issues, to my 250 square foot gem in the heart of North Beach (I had to open the door to smile) to my current very comfortable and big apartment near Pier 39.
I feel as if I earned my way in the city and look back on my early days with wonder: could I do it again? Would I? Yes, to live in the city I love. It was an adventure, every minute of it and I know I can stand on my own and handle a living situation where all I have is a bottom bunk and a suitcase.
Though I do I like my balcony, two cats and 500 square feet.
No comments:
Post a Comment