A Gypsy Soul ‘Went to the Bay, Went to the Sunshine’

Overnight train. Beautiful views. Solace time. Smile on my face. What else can be a better moment to pen down the beautiful journey I embarked on!

In the huzzy-buzzy everyday life, where we constantly run behind spending time with everyone around us, rarely do we get to spend time with ourselves. We owe ourselves that time and we deserve it. Irrespective of the kind of life you want to live, in my view, Self Love and Self Care are extremely important. To give love, you need to have enough love. To be a stronger brighter person every tomorrow, one needs to grow every today. To understand this world better, you might need to understand yourself first.

Having been living in the US East Coast for a year, I decided it was time for me to travel somewhere far – to break the routine, to go off the beaten track, and to experience something new. Six months ago when we were walking our way through the gloomy snow, a song from California lifted my spirits saying “Come to the Bay, Come to the Sunshine”. I knew then what my next destination was. My friends and family by now got used to me saying “I am off on a solo travel backpacking trip”. They teasingly remark saying I am always out on a soul searching mission. Maybe I am. Maybe I am not. But I for sure know the value of filling yourself with happiness. And I for sure always want to go for it. 

This world is a beautiful place. Making friends all along the journey makes life more lively and shapes our outlook. Needless to say that some of these amazing ones at Stanford enabled me to kick off this wonderful journey. First best thing that found its way into my heart is the Stanford Memorial Church. Walking into the church spellbound, opening my mouth in awe, all I could think of was to have a bridegroom by my side to marry at such an enchanting place. Drawing all of its brightness through the natural sunlight seeping in through paintings, and holding walls carved with amazing words that were loud yet silent, this place mesmerises anyone who walks in. The museum at Stanford slowly erased the distaste I developed overtime for modern visual arts through its thought-provoking collections. The not too happening Palo Alto downtown was also compensated by the energy and elegance of the beautiful village campus. The 3.8-mile ‘dish trail’ hilly trek in the scorching sun, that demanded a 4.6-mile biking and 3.3-mile walk as a preparation to scale it, was worth every step. Pushing myself to climb and getting a glimpse of the breathtaking view was a great test to my physical ability and mental determination. Though I am not a fitness freak, the satisfaction at the end of this mission lifted my spirits and brought a long smile on my face.

When people ask me to choose between beaches and mountains, I always feel uncomfortable wondering why they both can’t co-exist in the same place. Finally, the City of San Francisco answered loud and clear. Staring at the Golden Gate bridge with mountains behind it and walking along the Crissy Field beach reminded me how closest we can be to nature. To my surprise, I hardly met any people throughout the three-hour long walk I had on the beach. Though too much to think of, I felt as if the City made a private reservation to give me the best it has. In contrast to the East Coast, the mix of diversity and ethnicity on the West can be seen more vividly. Judging by the cover, people here had a stronger connection to their roots, adored their traditional clothing. With a hotchpotch culture due to a significant population of immigrants over time, people here looked comfortable in their skin and didn’t try to fit in the crowd. Finally, the best of this week was the story of a super cute baby turtle on the beach that looked at me and buried itself in the sand to escape. When waves washed off the sand to expose a part of it, it dug deeper to cover itself. The next time a bigger wave came in, it jumped out of the sand, swam swiftly in the direction of the current, and got into the ocean. It was just a 15 second moment. But the fact that the memory still keeps flashing in front of me and makes me happy is probably one of those little things in life that needed me to take a pause and appreciate life.

Last year when I went to the Himalayas, I realised the magic mountains can do. They call u. They make u talk to them. They make you feel really tiny and remind you what a small yet significant creature you are in this gigantic universe. That’s when I promised myself to meet mountains every year. Tonight, I am off to the historical, sacred, volcanic – Mount Shasta. To a little close-knit town, into the Buddhist monastery for meditation and self-reflection for a week.

I don’t know where my next stop is. But I for sure know there are more places and more lives out there waiting for me to find them, waiting to make my heart skip a beat, waiting to take my breath away.