Richmond at Last

I experienced three continents, 14 countries, tons of funky street food and more relaxed, free time than I could ever have imagined. And now, I’m back in Richmond. Wow. Fucking wow. Shit fucking wow!

Ya know, I didn't think I'd miss Richmond as much as I did.
Those refineries sure are a sight for sore eyes!

12 months, 365 days, 1 year, 4 fiscal quarters. I spent this time on the road. But now, I’m unpacking vases and deciding where to hang photos. I’m calling Comcast about special deals. I’m going to Target to buy rugs. I’m spending, spending, spending. And I’m not writing. It has been truly amazing to be able to watch myself morph back into “Eric in the U.S.” My outlook on life is forever changed by our trip and I feel different. But, as I screwed the cable wire from the floor into the TV, I sensed a part of me being cut off from the life I was leading and the lessons I have learned.

Now, when I get into bed, MY bed, instead of opening the book, I look for the remote. I watched The Godfather last night as opposed to finishing a book I’ve been slowly reading over the last three weeks. I know the readjustment period will take time. I'm enjoying those things that I didn’t have for a year: Ice cubes, attentive wait service, TV, my own bathroom, a microwave, a hot tub, friends to talk to, yummy pillows, etc. I am aware of the changes that are occurring. While a part of me is happy for the new additions, another part of me longs for the simplistic nature of life on the road.

This was the market we went to in Arequipa, Peru.
Stall after stall of amazingly fresh fruit. That's what I'm talking about!

I was in Trader Joe’s, a high-end supermarket that offers tasty prepared meals at lower costs. They also have a pretty weak fruits and vegetables section. Andy and I entered and I almost lost my shit. I felt dirty and used. Their prices were over the top and I had a hard time agreeing to buy anything. I know I need food to live, but at what cost? They prepackaged a yellow and red pepper together – nice and pretty – and were asking $2.79 for them. Fuck! Really? I don’t know where the peppers came from, who grew them, how long ago. Nothing. All I knew was that they were bright red and yellow and they looked healthy. I’m used to markets in the third world where the farmer is selling the fruits of his labor. You know they are fresh and you know the price is right. I think I’m ruined. I left TJ’s bewildered and depressed. The trip is over. I’m home. Get used to it.

"One of these days, there are things that I want, gonna be mine. But if it ain't that, it's gonna be alright as long as there's sunshine and a big ole baroot!"

Later that night, needing to feel as if we were paying the right price for something, Andy and I went to see “Knocked Up” at a new movie theater that just opened up near our house. It was 2-for-1 night and we were more than happy to save the cost of a ticket. As the two of us get ready to entertain the idea of having a child (non-committal enough for ya?), I entered into this movie a bit uneasy. I was told it was funny and solid. My father even went so far as to proclaim this movie funnier than “Stripes.” Well, I’m going to have to disagree with you there, pops. It was good and poignant and made me laugh, but “Stripes” it was not. I finished the flick with tears of joy running down my face.

Despite my gruff-looking exterior, I have a soft, cushy spot in my heart for kids. I love them to death and I can’t wait to have one of my own. I know I’ll be a great dad. I just know it. I guess a lot of times I get caught up in watching my friends deal with their little ones. From what I see, life is harder with a kid. However, when I look into the eyes of my peers and see them glow as they care for their children, I know that it is all worth it.

gettin in the groove...

My travel blog was wildly successful on two fronts. One being that I posted regularly and my readers got to expect stories. Secondly, my travels lent themselves to good posts. Things were always happening to me. It was almost impossible to be left with nothing to say.

And here I am, a few weeks removed from my last post on this blog, assuming that I have lost all my readers. I swear, weird things have been occurring. Honest. My road trip through the southwest United States was a blast. I ran into a strange fellow at an Interstate highway rest stop and we began talking about screenplays and pursuing the Hollywood dream of being rich and famous. I encouraged him to try acting. He gave me all his electronic info with the hopes that I would sell a script and call him when I need a short, mousy, fat-lipped New Yorker with faded tattoos to act in one of my movies. He seemed genuinly excited about meeting me. I introduced myself as a writer and his pointy little ears perked up like he had just met Scorcese or Speilberg. I guess my confidence was riding high.

I moved on through New Mexico catching some incredible views along the way. Besides the touristy art galleries and fancy shops, I also experienced life as a Sikh in Espanola, NM. My wife's sister is in tight with a small but energetic Sikh community that surrounds northern New Mexico. We had to make a quick stop at their friend's house to drop off a DVD and I was blown away by what I saw. A group of four men - all wearing white turbins and sporting long, flowing beards - sat peacefully on a couch in the living room. They all had special non-American sounding names; "Jama Baba Laba Romaba" something or other. Two women sat on a lounge chair together, engaged in a sisterly cuddle. The group of six were hanging around, essentially shooting the shit. They had their laptops open, laughing and talking. Besides the beards, turbins and weird names, they were exactly like me and my friends. We hung out for about 20 minutes and then left. It was a perfect encounter.

On my way back to the Bay area we stopped off in las Vegas where we were treated to an awesomely delicious free meal at a casino restaurant. Some good friends from our travels work at the new sushi eatery opening up and they needed patrons to practice on. Um, yes please! We scored yummy drinks, great raw fish and fine service to boot. One of the bartenders was a proud parent of two enormous breast implants. And thanks to a casino rule, she had to shake her drinks a certain way that forced all the bar patrons to hypnotically stair at her melons. It never got old.

After our road trip to see family, we headed back to our hometown to get ready for our annual trip to Quincy, CA to attend High Sierra Music Festival. It was my fifth year in a row going and I couldn't wait to get back up tot he mountains and see some live music. Everything worked out as smooth as silk and it turned out to be the best festival I've been to. Good friends, good times, good music, good weather, good laughs. It was all good basically.

And now, I am home. Sort of. We are staying with our friends Mitch and Sarah, waiting to move back in to our house this Sunday afternoon. Basically, we are doing nothing, just waiting. It's surreal to sit here, still with nothing to do, waiting for something to fill my time. I guess I could find things to do, but you all know me by now. I would rather read a book than force a to-do list on myself. I say, let's go away for a day or two and force relaxation on ourselves. There will plenty of time to stress, but now, shit, now is my time.