Before coming to America, I planned to see as much as possible because I was sure I might not return. So, I made a plan to travel to the West Coast after finishing work. Two weeks before the season ended, I bought a plane ticket to San Francisco. When talking to my parents on Skype, they asked: 'Where will you live? When is your return ticket?' I had neither. I noticed I always did everything at the last minute. But eventually, I found a place in SF. Before my last day of work, we had a party, and I didn't sleep all night (actually, I hadn't slept properly all August). Plus, I only had one night to pack before my trip. When I got back from work, I realized I could barely speak. I asked to be woken up at 1 AM so I could pack, because my acquaintances (an uncle and aunt) were supposed to arrive at 8:30 AM to take some of my things and drive me to the airport. I had too many things and didn't want to travel with a huge suitcase. I left the extra stuff behind because I had a return flight to Russia from Washington anyway. As usual, they didn't wake me up. I woke up at 6 AM and started packing in a rush... I barely made it. Once on the plane, I tried to gather my strength—alone again, heading who knows where. Many people told me there were many good people in SF, but after getting off the train, I wandered around looking for my hostel. The first person I met was a homeless man; he asked me for directions to an address written on a piece of paper, and I said I didn't know. He called me a bitch and tried to hit me. I was in culture shock. I stood there for a moment and then walked on. After checking into the hostel, I didn't even want to go out. It was already evening anyway. I spent one night in the hostel with two Polish girls; they were cool. They showed me a guidebook with sights everyone should see. The next morning, I decided to walk to Chinatown, then go see the bridge. After walking halfway through Chinatown, I decided to ride the cable car, went down, walked around a bit, then took it to the very end to be closer to the bridge. Since I love walking and sightseeing, I decided to walk to the bridge from there and check out the Marina district. The road was really long, but I had enough energy to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. On the other side, I met some guys from Israel who helped me get back. From there, I saw the Japanese district, City Hall, and everything on the way back to the hostel. The next day, I went to Russian Hill, then Coit Tower, then the Fisherman's Wharf. Back at the hostel, I met a guy who had a bus tour of San Francisco, and he invited me to join him. It was so lucky that I got on the bus for free because no one checked tickets in the evening. I saw SF at night, ended up in the Fisherman's Wharf again, and it was quite far to walk from there. I was passing by souvenir shops and met a 19-year-old Spanish guy (even though I was 18, there was a big difference in our maturity). I asked him to take me to see the Golden Gate Bridge at night, and I got lucky with that too!) The next day, I planned to visit Golden Gate Park. I decided to take a bus but got off on the other side of the city where the beach is. I walked through the entire park, and it was after the park that I realized I was starting to fall in love with this city. It's very beautiful, especially near the botanical garden. After the park, I walked to some gardens in the city center, and it was evening again. I didn't really go out in the evenings because I was tired. The next day, looking at the map, I realized I had seen everything I wanted. The fourth day felt extra, but I had planned to see the southern part of the city and the design center, so I walked there. On the way, a guy approached me and offered to help me see the city, but I said I had already seen everything. I asked him to drive me across the Bay Bridge to Oakland (I wanted to see what kind of city it was and why many Americans say it's one of the most dangerous cities in America)
+2
