Travel
The Memory of A Bridge That I Cherish Till Now
Some memories never fade…
It was almost dusk but not dark yet. At around 8.30 in the evening, I was amazed to see so much light, something I hadn’t anticipated.
The plane circled over San Francisco. There was a glimpse of a bridge in the distance — the famous iconic Golden Gate Bridge before the plane moved inward when another bridge appeared, the San Mateo — Hayward Bridge.
The plane approached the runway — the bay area slowly unfolded — the best view one can imagine. Finally, the long and grueling journey was coming to an end.
However, I was in no mood to enjoy the scenery around me. The magical views didn’t lighten my mood. I felt a knot in my stomach and tried hard not to throw up, again.
I silently wished that there would be a problem with the landing or that somehow the authorities would find some irregularities in my paper and deport me home.
That’s an odd feeling, especially for an avid traveler like me, right? I was that child who grew up with an atlas and a globe, dreaming about faraway and enchanted places. So what made me feel so distressed?
It was my first journey abroad and that too, so far away. But it was no vacation. I was on a business trip.
It was also my first solo trip. I was homesick even before I landed.
After that initial shock, I tried to reason with my mind and decided to make the best use of my time.
After all, this was my golden chance to be in America, the land of opportunity. This was my chance to experience a different culture. This is what I had always wanted to do.
The aparthotel, where I was staying, was in Foster City, around 22 miles south of San Francisco. It is a beautiful city surrounded by the lagoon, the hills, and the bay of the Pacific Ocean.
Now that I have time to look back, I feel nostalgic. I cherish those moments spent in such a beautiful place.
I did have a culture shock. No matter how much I have read about American culture, nothing could prepare me.
I also met many Indians, who were working and living in the USA and I got to sample a flavor of their lives. It was disorienting for me. But this story is not about that.
Right where I lived was the lagoon. From my place, I could see the lagoon and a bridge that I used to take to go to an Indian grocery store.
I loved going for walks whenever I could, mostly around the lagoon, and would often end up in the bay where there was another bridge, the one that I saw from the plane — the San Mateo Bridge that connects Foster City with Hayward.
The bridge is 7 miles long, making it the 25th longest bridge in the world and the longest in California.
I have always had a thing for bridges. Since I was a child, I often loved going on a bridge. If there was an option to go over a bridge, I would take that no matter if there are other easier or better options.
My hometown, Kolkata, has an iconic bridge that is called the Howrah Bridge. Life revolves around it, however, it’s a pity that I don’t have a single picture.
Naturally, the San Mateo bridge would draw me in for a walk by the bay. I often wondered what was on the other side (I did get a chance later to be on the other side) my imagination running wild.
The San Francisco Bay trail is a great place for a walk and sometimes, when I felt very lonely, I would sit on a bench to watch people. The Americans seemed very sporty and fitness-conscious as most people were busy surfing or biking, even on weekdays.
Despite all the natural beauty, I would often feel homesick. The SFO airport was close by and at any minute if you looked above, there would be at least seven to eight flights in the air, circling above you, landing or taking off. From my seat, I would search for “my” plane taking me back home and that always made me feel better.
It was springtime and the days were mostly bright, gorgeous, and sunny, with some occasional rain too. The sun would shine until late in the night and this phenomenon was something new to me.
One Sunday, some of my colleagues and I decided to visit San Francisco. It was a fun day and I learned how to navigate public transport in California, that too on a shoestring budget, which was quite a challenge.
The train ride to San Francisco for me was like watching a Disney movie. I was grappled with the idea of life in a first-world country.
We went to some touristy and pretty places like the Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39, the home to California’s sea lions (they are not seals). These mammals moved in here after the earthquake in Loma Prieta in 1989.
The highlight of the trip was, though, the walk on the famous Golden Gate Bridge — the one that I spotted from the air.
On that first day from the plane, I wasn’t that thrilled about it because I rather longed to go home.
I was still homesick, but I did meet some people during my stay with whom I shared some good moments.
So, on that fine Sunday, approaching that red iconic bridge, with some of my colleagues who became friends later, was exciting, to say the least, because I have never seen a bridge like this before. I read somewhere that this is one of the most photographed bridges in the world.
The first question that came to mind was why was this bridge red.
It is also interesting that while Foster City and the surroundings are very green, the view to the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge is rather barren.
Unlike the San Mateo bridge, this isn’t a very long bridge either. There’s a sidewalk for pedestrians and bikes. We decided to take a walk on the sidewalk along with hundreds of other tourists.
There’s a downside to that beautiful sidewalk though. Just like the Howrah Bridge in my hometown, this bridge is also notorious for suicides.
Some time ago, I read an article by Sean Kernan about a suicide survivor, from this bridge, Ken Baldwin, and how he became a suicide prevention advocate.
Right after he jumped, he regretted his decision and wished he had a second chance. He recalled later:
“I instantly realized that everything in my life that I’d thought was unfixable was totally fixable — except for having just jumped.”
He was lucky but not everyone gets a second chance.
I hear that these days, the authorities have put a net around the bridge to prevent suicide.
After the walk, we wanted to rest for a while and found a beach nearby. I can’t recall the name of the beach anymore but as much as I remember, it must have been Baker Beach.
We were tired after a long day of walking and exploring, so we relaxed on the beach for some time, then decided to trace back home, to our temporary accommodation in Foster City.
For the next few weekends, I went for some other fun adventures too like the famous 17-mile drive in Monterey Peninsula and Big Sur.
Before I realized it, one month was already over and it was time to go back home. On the night before I left, a colleague invited me along with another colleague, for a barbeque at their house.
The smoke of the barbeque at her home and the home-cooked meals cheered me up.
At around midnight, we suddenly decided to see the Golden Gate Bridge at night. They had a four-year-old kid and it was chilly but we all bundled up and started. It was a night I will never forget because I am not a person to do something on impulse.
I am more of a routine person who plans things far ahead and gets uncomfortable when plans change suddenly. Besides, I was leaving the next night. I wanted to go back to my room, finish packing, and take some rest. But I went along.
We took the route 101 North. This was the first time I saw the city of San Francisco at night. The lights of the city in the distance were like a fairytale.
We had hoped to see the beautiful lights on the bridge too from the distance, however, the lights were off for some odd reason.
It was freezing and windy. Despite that, we managed to walk a bit and enjoy the solitude. Experiencing the bridge at that time of the wee hours was nothing like the other day when I walked with hundreds of tourists in the daylight.
The nighttime solitude gave me some moments to contemplate deeper thoughts about my trip so far and life as such.
Now that I look back, I realize that this one trip has changed my perspective in so many ways. I have learned to appreciate my own home and to treasure moments and the people in my life.
What was remarkable was, that I had made some new friends, which was quite an achievement for an introvert like me, who prefers to be surrounded by books than by friends.
It has shaped the way I think today.
It was my first step alone, thousands of miles away from the comfort of my home, family, food, and culture. I was happy that I was coming back but I was also sad at the same time and it was a strange emotion that I couldn’t fathom.
I walked to my heart’s content around the lagoon on my last day before taking the flight back home. The Golden Gate Bridge glistened like a thousand twinkling stars below me one last time, till it disappeared.
Here are some of the other great stories on bridges:
Jillian Amatt - Artistic Voyages
Thank you for reading and many thanks to the editors of Globetrotters for this lovely prompt.
