A little turbulence on way to a new home sweet home

One of the most frequently asked questions I get from my readers is: "Where are you now?" Thailand? Laos? Hawaii? Costa Rica? The truth is, the answer is none of the above.

So I thought now might be a good time to share with you all my journey "home," to Monterey, Calif.

I had a plan.

It wasn't a great plan and I wasn't entirely sure I was happy about it. And, despite a free trip to New York, a whirlwind week with my new co-workers followed by an exhilarating week in Costa Rica, I still wasn't certain that I had made the right decision in accepting my new job. After all, accepting the job meant giving up my life in Hawaii and (yet again) starting over alone in (yet again) a new place.

I had been to California only once before and it was nearly a decade ago. It was a trip filled with typical tourist activities: a visit to Hollywood, a stroll down Sunset Boulevard, a concert at Universal Studios. The Santa Monica pier. Long Beach. Shopping, sun, sand and surf. It was a fun trip, but when it was over I was more than happy to leave.

I'm not sure if it was the fake tans, fake (blond) hair or fake personalities I couldn't seem to escape in L.A. that had me itching to head for the hills (not the Beverly Hills mind you, but rather the gorgeous, natural ones in Northern New York). What I was sure of was that California was a fun place to visit but not somewhere I would ever care to return to. And definitely not a place I would choose to live.

And I never did. That is, until I was faced with this decision: Take the job with Sustainable Horizon and move to California or pass up the opportunity just to stay in Hawaii.

As you already know, I chose the former. I took the job and a big leap, and was consequently overwhelmed by the uncertainty. My new job would require a fair amount of domestic travel, particularly within California, so my boss left it up to me to choose the city in which to base my office. Where would I live? What type of people would I meet? Would they be welcoming? Would they be fake? What if I hated it? Could I really start over again? And of all places, in California?"

After a good deal of research and several chats with friends who live or have lived in California, I found myself drawn time and again to Monterey, a small city less than two hours from San Francisco.

I had a plan.

I booked a flight to Monterey and two nights in a hotel there. I scheduled some apartment/house viewings and, ironically feeling quite blind, headed for my new home.

I had a plan.

But as we well know, things don't always go as planned. So when my flight from Syracuse was delayed and I realized I would likely miss my connection in Chicago, (which would in turn mean missing my subsequent connections) rather than panic, I decided to improvise.

The flight that was delayed was also overbooked. The airline reps asked for volunteers to take a bump — willingly miss the flight to Chicago — to be rebooked on a later flight and get a free round-trip ticket as compensation. Given that I was already likely to miss my connections and arrive late in Monterey anyway, I decided to take the bump. And the free ticket.

I got rebooked on another flight out of Syracuse and would arrive in Monterey just a few hours later than planned. I wouldn't be able to do any house hunting that evening, but I could still get some sleep and set out first thing the next morning. So no problem, right?

Not exactly. My new flight also got delayed and thus my connections were shot. Again. They rebooked me again on an even later flight. OK, I thought, maybe a good night's sleep was out but I would still get to Monterey, right?

Well, sort of. From Syracuse to Chicago, Chicago to San Francisco, all was well. But just as I was about to board the final flight from San Francisco to Monterey, the reps announced that the flight was overbooked and they would need volunteers to take a bump, get rebooked for a morning flight, and be sent to a hotel for the night. And get a free round-trip ticket.

It was already after 10 p.m. Pacific time, and I had been up for nearly 24 hours. I was tired of airports and airplanes, and I began thinking that a hot shower and a comfy bed might be a better option than another flight and a late arrival.

My day was shot, my night was shot, and my body was aching. And there was another free ticket on offer! So again, I volunteered. Steamy shower and room service here I come!

Or not. Apparently not everyone who was booked on the flight had made it to our gate. So I was told, "Thanks, but no thanks. There is actually room for you on this flight."

OK, fine; goodbye hotel in San Francisco, hello Monterey!

Or not. Again. I had barely crammed my carry-on under the seat when the flight attendant, frantically running up and down the aisle, started shouting, "There are 29! We can't take 29 people!"

"So — should I get off?" I asked.

Before she could answer, the rep from the gate came running up the stairs onto the plane, looked at me sheepishly and said, "I need you. Can you come with me?"

Confused but happy to help (OK, OK, maybe happier to once again have the chance at a hot shower and free ticket), I gladly grabbed my bag and followed him back into the airport. After some required paperwork and supervisor's approval, I was off to my hotel.

Almost. I headed outside where the hotel shuttles were meant to be and was nearly knocked over by the crisp San Francisco air. I knew that it would be cooler in northern California but had imagined low 60s, not high 40s! Hot shower, hot shower, hot shower, I reminded myself. Almost there.

"I'm looking for the hotel shuttle," I told an airport employee.

"You're in the right place," he said. "It'll be here in 30 minutes."

Thirty minutes?! This has to be some kind of joke, I thought. In fact, the whole day was quite laughable. Better to be laughing than crying right? Sometimes there seems to be a fine line. ...

About 25 minutes later, shivering and delirious, I boarded the hotel shuttle. Less than 10 minutes later, I was at the hotel being greeted by friendly front desk folks and handed a warm chocolate chip cookie.

"Your room is in the West Wing, all the way to the end," they told me, smiling.

I couldn't help but think that I was in something of a Twilight Zone/corny horror flick as I dragged my sleepy self to the very last room at the very end of the hall. I mean, who greets you at 12 a..m. with a smile and a cookie and then sends you all the way to the end of the "West Wing"?

Creeped out but determined to make the best of what was left of my strange day, I cranked the heat, called room service, had myself a very long, very hot shower, and finally, clean, warm and with a real meal in my belly, I was ready for bed.

Despite getting only a few hours of sleep, I awoke in the morning excited to be on my way. Only one short flight from my new home; nothing could stop me now!

Well nothing, that is, except the fog. Thanks to the early morning mist, my 8:20 flight was delayed, until 9. And then 9:30. And then 10. And then 10:12. And I began to wonder if I should just forget Monterey altogether, stay in San Francisco and start looking for a home there.

But finally, after just 23 minutes in the air, we arrived at the Monterey Peninsula Airport. Seeing this tiny airport tucked between the twinkling turquoise ocean and the lush, forested hills, I realized this was not the California I had previously experienced, happily took it all in, and vowed to give California a second chance. After all, it was my new home.

I tracked down my luggage (which had arrived with my original flight the previous day) and gave my friend Anthony a call. I had met Anthony while teaching in Thailand nearly two years prior, and he just happened to be a Monterey native. People often talk about the "tangled web we weave" in life, but I like to think about the intricate, colorful and sometimes helpful web we weave with the people we meet in our travels.

Anthony took me on a tour of historic Monterey, a scenic drive along the coast, and then drove me to the first house I had scheduled a viewing for. The girls there gave us a quick tour of the place and we chatted for a bit. The location was perfect — one street down from Anthony's house, one street up from downtown, walking distance to grocery stores, movie theaters, famous Cannery Row, Fisherman's Wharf, and the ocean; the girls were my age and friendly; the price was right.

They asked where I was planning to stay that night and I told them about the hotel. "Well," one said glancing sideways at the other for confirmation, "If you like the place, you could move in tonight."

I was thrilled but thought it best to think things over before committing. I mean, I had just newly departed the Twilight Zone and wasn't sure I could trust my judgment quite yet.

So Anthony and I drove around some more and discussed the house, the girls, and my situation. He offered to take me to look at the other houses and apartments I had planned to check out. But as I went through the list I realized that none of them were as great as the one I had just visited.

I called the girls up, ironed out some details and made a stop at the hotel to check out, after having never actually checked in.

Straight from the airport to my new home, with a tour of Monterey along the way. Could it really be that easy?

Finally, YES!

I guess sometimes, every once in a while, we get a nice break from our troubles, our stress, our worries. Sometimes, the universe rewards us for our hard work, our sleepless nights, our determination and flexibility. And sometimes we are fortunate enough to find that balance — from a terribly strange and exhausting night to a bright and beautiful new day, full of new hope, new friends, new opportunities and a new place to call home.

To a new chapter after a long journey,

Ashley

Ashley M. Fitzgerald spent a year and a half in Thailand as a teacher, model and program coordinator. She is now a program coordinator for Sustainable Horizon in California. She is a 2000 graduate of Harrisville Central School and a graduate of Middlebury (Vt.) College. "Grown Local, Gone Global" is published monthly. Past columns are available at www.watertowndailytimes.com/section/grownlocalgoneglobal. Contact Ashley at afitzgerald@wdt.net.