another cliché
travel blog

First, I want you to know that I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed. How could I not be? Fifteen years ago, coming here was, for all intents and purposes, coming to the future. Everywhere I looked I saw cellphones whose least remarkable feature was polyphonic ringtones. It took two full years after I got back for phones could do more than squeak at us. Ubiquitous photo booths with facial recognition features that rival Google Hangouts today. LED displays I still haven’t seen in the US. It was incredible. And hanging out in Narita today, it’s clear you’re still an affluent, tech savvy country. Walking through the terminal is a whose who of mass market fashion: Hermès, Ferragamo, Dior, Coach, all on display like it’s Union Square. Cell phones have improved, but nothing that stands out from what we have in the U.S. Really, the only novel bit of tech I’ve come across has been vertically scrolling LED arrays, and those only because the orientation doesn’t work in English. It would seem we’ve finally achieved tech parity. And for the most part that’s cool, I get it. Flagging economy, aging workforce, increased demand in the U.S. But you need to think long and hard about what the hell happened to your vending machines.

Fifteen years ago, us ‘Muricans counted ourselves lucky if the vending machine didn’t eat our coins when we wanted to buy pretzels. Taking bills was an unreliable novelty. Your vending machines dispensed hot tea at a card swipe. (They also dispensed something called Pocari Sweat which I still haven’t figure out, but that’s neither here nor there). This is where you were at all those years ago:

This is where you are now:

I saved myself the trouble of digging through my old photo album and scanning a vending machine photo-U.S. Phones didn’t have cameras at that point

Not a damn thing has changed. Fifteen years ago in the U.S. we were thankful to have a soda explode on us because it meant that it actually dropped into the bin instead of getting stuck in the spinning coil of A5. Now we have engaging experiences with touchscreen-enabled robots that customize our bottle labels. Your’s haven’t changed. The designer in me is applauds you dedication to singularity of purpose and laser focus on doing the job right, but e child in me is pissed.

True, I still have yet to see vending machines in the US that dispense used panties, but I’m counting that as a blessing. Step up.

OMG! I can’t believe my entire life for the next five weeks is going to fit inside that pack!

/s

It’s Thailand, not Mars. To hear it told, there are more 7-11s there than people in Bangkok. I’ve just always wanted to take a shot of my pack with everything laid down

Commentor: Elaine Sugihara Date:2015-01-14 04:17:17

Only 5 or 6 pair of underwear? Really?! And where’s your Sonicare toothbrush?! OMG, come back, you’re not packed yet! :)

Let’s do this

I can’t figure out why I love taking the Larkspur ferry. Something about being completely removed from the effort of getting into the city, maybe. No traffic, no Bart trains screaming under the bay, no choice. You will end up in SF, but right now, for the next thirty minutes, you’re stuck. I know it’s more than the views of the bay, the Golden Gate, both spans of the Bay, downtown SF, because even fogged in, the charm is there. Maybe it’s lingering memories, or simply being on the water. Maybe having that much space to move around while in transit really is that luxurious. Planes, cars, and muni, even without the smell of piss, are cramped and uncomfortable. Trains are a step up. Maybe the 1800s had this travel thing figured out. Now, if only we could bring back the blimp…

Regardless of why, it was the natural choice for getting back to sf after clearing out my room, packing it into my car, and schleping it up to Sebastopol for safe keeping. Carly was beside herself when I got home, but we took off pretty quick to make San Rafael in time for dinner before the ferry. Even so, we got so caught up in the meal I had to sprint to make the ferry and missed saying a proper goodbye to my parents. Now I’ll have that on my conscience if I explode somewhere over the Pacific.

The whole trip back to SF I spent on the back deck of the ferry, soaking in the cold. Anticipation of the heat and humidity has made Alaska and the northern lights all the more appealing. The cold may kill you, but hell is probably humid. I wanted to practice being a tourist, so I snapped a couple shots of the bay. Neither the girl with the trekking pack nor the guy paid to watch us dumbasses so that we don’t jump overboard seemed to notice, so mercifully I was alone in my shame.

32 hours.

Awesome. Thanks body. Off to a great start.

I’m probably gonna take terrible pictures and have solidly vapid comments about all of them. A disproportionate share of photos will probably be of food, which unjustly, will look wholly unappealing. Elephant rides appear to be generally terrible, so we’ll be skipping that particular cliché, but everything else is fair game for recounting. Or I might just not post anything.