I was moving onto a houseboat in Philadelphia during an ice storm on March 1, 2015 when 60 Minutes aired. I knew a little about what was going on based on rumors around the office and then a meeting that was held a few days before - so that we would not be taken by surprise. A couple weeks prior, while I was at Mardi Gras in New Orleans, I received an email that the State Attorney General was raiding the office.
Luckily for me, I had just left my Brooklyn apartment to move to Philadelphia where I would work remotely. I found a houseboat on Craigslist for the month of March where I could live while looking for a permanent apartment.
After the 60 Minutes feature, clients dropped us left and right throughout the month and the security of my job was looking less than promising.
On March 27, I received the phone call letting me know that they would have to let me go, effective immediately. There was no more work.
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| Sunrise from the marina of my houseboat in Philadelphia |
Some people panic. Others make plans. I knew it was time for an adventure. I was free. No apartment obligations. No significant other. No kids. No debt. And I was only about an hour and a half from my parents' house, the closest I had been since college, so I could leave my stuff and animals (Thanks Mom and Dad!).
This is when I wonder how these things come to happen. Where do the ideas spark from? It's like they just float up from the gray matter in our brains and appear. And then they become thoughts. Which become actions. There is a rush of ideas all floating up, spiraling around. My heart races as the possibilities swirl! At some point, some of them come together, like pieces of a puzzle. Options are chosen and put into motion.
On April 22, 2015 I found myself in the backseat of my parents' car as the sun began to rise. We were on our way to Philadelphia. I had purchased a one-way train ticket that would arrive in Portland, Oregon three days later - wherever I even got that idea, beats me. I knew I was going to the West Coast and I had some ideas of what I wanted to happen, but no real itinerary.
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| In the backseat of the car on the way to the train station in Philadelphia. |
I have wanted to travel the United States by train for a few years. Taking my time and watching comfortably as the landscapes change. I never had the time - most Americans don't. And now I did. This was my chance. Not only does it take much longer, but it also costs more than a plane ticket, which besides the time, is probably another reason that so few people take trains "these days".
I needed to meet the people who take their time. What do they think about? What brings them here? Why did they choose to go slow? Where do they come from? Where are they going? Maybe they know something that I don't and they will share their knowledge? Maybe someone will say something that I need to hear and everything in the universe will suddenly make sense.
I am on a quest to find out. I search for it in conversations; in books and music. It may not be one word or phrase, but maybe if I find enough of them, it will happen; life will make sense.
I spent the entire first leg of the trip, Philadelphia to Chicago, not talking to anyone. I stared out the window and discovered how beautiful West Virginia is. I saw a man standing on the balcony of his old, colonial house waving at the train as we passed him. I thought about how he must wait for the train every day and he goes to his balcony, with a big smile, and waves to us. It made me happy. I wanted to be his friend. I wanted to wait on his balcony to wave at the passing trains too.
Another thing that happened on the first part of the train: crying. I cried for a few hours after leaving Philadelphia, which is a big deal for me, but I let it go, discretely behind my sunglasses.
While I won't go into why I cried, I do want to mention the thoughts that happened: "I have nothing", "I'm tired of being afraid," and "I'm going to go to New Zealand and jump out of an airplane, because I have nothing to lose and it sounds terrifying."
You see? Where does this stuff come from? But it matters and we'll get there, eventually.
After arriving in Chicago a day later, I had to switch trains where I would be for the remainder of my trip. This is also where I upgraded from coach to a "roomette" - well worth it! The upgrade includes all meals, showers, a bed, and privacy. It was lovely. I felt really fancy. And extremely comfortable.
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| A day after departing Philadelphia, I had a chance to explore Chicago for a few hours. |
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| Hanging out with my new friend, Vincent, on the train. |
On the next train, I recognized a fellow passenger from the first train. I approached him and we quickly became train-friends. His name is Vincent. He was born in the Philippines and previously lived in Hawaii, San Francisco, and most recently, New York City (we lived in NYC at the same time!). He is a photographer and big into the Instagram - @alohacrabs if you are interested in checking out his work!
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| Photo Credit: Instragram @alohacrabs |
Lucky for me he knew his way around a camera and I did not, even though I am equipped with my Canon EOS 60D. We spent a lot of the ride talking about traveling, life, social media, and him teaching me how to use the camera.
He had decided to leave New York City and was moving to the Seattle area, where he'd be getting an apartment with his sister. He had all of his belongings with him. If I recall, it consisted of two, maybe three, suitcases and his bag of camera supplies. Not too bad, my friend.
On the last night of the journey, the train splits in half. One half continues onto Portland and the other onto Seattle. We said our good-byes and agreed that we would meet up again when I got to Seattle. (You can read more about Vincent's journey on his blog.)
On Saturday, I finally arrived in Portland. The city greeted with me a bright sun and beautiful blue skies. (Of course it did - I was hoping for rain.)
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| Union Station in Portland, Oregon on the day of my arrival. |
Even though my arrival in Portland would seem to mark the beginning of my trip, there was something about it that left me feeling heavy. It was time to get my feet on the ground and start doing, rather than passively watching.
It was time to begin that adventure I had been talking about, but I wasn't really sure about what would happen. My friend was on her way to pick me up from the station. Here I was. Just waiting. And worrying a little - what if nothing happened?
What if I didn't feel any different? What if I didn't find myself after all of this?
This is typical of me.
This is also something I hope that traveling will change.
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| I caught my reflection in the window of the speeding train. |
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