I was on my way home after a 15 hour flight from Barcelona to San Francisco. I sat on the bart train in the late afternoon and dreamed of wrapping myself in my blanket like a burrito and laying in bed for the next three days. 

Across from me sat a girl with a giant hiker’s backpack and a map of San Francisco on her lap.

“How long are you visiting for?” I wanted to be welcoming to another traveler, just as I’d experienced in my own travels.
“It’s only a seven-hour layover on my way to New Zealand,” she replied with an Italian accent. 

She had initially thought of staying at the airport to avoid the risk of missing her flight, but it seemed like a missed opportunity. She had never been to San Francisco, or California, or the United States. 

Her plan didn’t give her much time. She’d take the bart to Union Square to look up at the tall buildings and walk around the busy streets for a bit, then bus all the way to the iconic Golden Gate Bridge before heading back to the airport. It would be rough, spending most of her time on public transportation and not really enjoying the city. 

I tried not to think of my cozy bed when I replied to her plans, “This might be weird, but if you want, I’m heading home and have a car and can show you some spots in the city to make your time a little more worth it.” 

Her eyes lit up, “Wow. Really? Are you sure? You’ve also just come back from traveling yourself.”

Was I really sure? My head sighed at the thought of my pillow, but my heart was ready for the detour. 

I took her to one of my favorite vista points of the city. It gave a panoramic view from Outer Sunset to the Financial District. I pointed out Ocean Beach, and Golden Gate Park, and on the other end, the iconic Transamerica Pyramid, and Salesforce Tower, the tallest building in the city.

We stopped by the 16th Avenue Tiled Steps, a community-created mosaic of the bottom of the sea up to the stars in the sky on a 163-step outdoor stairway. 

It was dark by the time we headed to the Golden Gate Bridge. The scene was beautiful as the clear night sky contrasted with the brightly lit orange of the structure stretching across the bay. 

She asked me if I had ever walked on the bridge. I told her I hadn’t. It was a casual thought to cross the bridge on foot one day, but never an earnest desire. 

She couldn’t understand how I could miss the opportunity when I live so close. But I told her that’s the problem with proximity, it can breed contempt. When things are close and easily accessible, we sometimes forget how special it is. 

“I never really thought about it,” she replied. She described growing up in a village in Italy. Across the lake stood a small castle. Many people would come through the village to walk through the castle’s stone walls. She’d been there as a child for a school trip, and only visited now when friends or family came to town. 

We mistake familiar with ordinary. It’s often why people travel, to remove themselves from what has become their normal. But it saddens me to think some people travel only because they cannot find beauty where they are. I never want to forget something is beautiful.

We finished off the night at In N Out with burgers and fries and shakes, a quintessential California meal. She thanked me for the trip, and told me she would visit the castle by her village when she went back to Italy. I told her if I ever found myself in Italy, I’d also love to see the castle. She promised that even if she was in another part of Europe she’d take a plane or train to get there for me. 

That night, as I lay in bed, I promised myself to walk the Golden Gate Bridge before the end of the year.