Seeking An Extraordinary Life: 8th of October 2007: Settling In

I sleep late and wake after nine o'clock to find that Deidre has already gone and I'm alone in the hotel room. Combined with the aftershock of yesterday's amazing party and concern about my lost bag I find my mood crashing - I feel completely alone in a foreign city, and that lost feeling, that detachment I've been feeling for so long seems to come crashing down in waves. I shower and pack, and use my remaining time before checkout to call round as many taxi companies as I can, with no luck, which doesn't improve my mood.

I'm out of the room just ahead of the maid, and dump my gear in the lobby to consider my options. My plan is to find a hostel where I can work for my room so I can drastically slow the erosion of my savings and rest up in one place for a while. A realisation is growing on me that the feelings of disconnection and lack of energy I've been feeling are just down to too much change without a break...I haven't stayed in one place for more than a week for almost exactly three months. With a little stability, maybe I can find a bit of peace and centredness, and I can't think of a better city for that purpose.

I start working my way down a hostel list I picked up at the Haight guesthouse. The first few, including the Green Turtle, bring no luck, but when I ring the fourth I am welcomed by a warm female voice. "Adelaide Hostel, Zoe speaking. How may I help you?" I try to speak when she continues "How may I provide excellent service for you today?" I try again but "How can I make your day better?" By now I'm laughing out loud and getting a good feeling about this place. Zoe tells me that there probably is a job available, but I'm best to come over and book in for a night first, as that's how the managers usually like to meet people before employing them.

I arrive, book in and meet Zoe in person - she turns out to be darkhaired, a little gothic with a wide red-lipsticked smile and as warm in person as she sounded on the phone - and I'm told that I've got a good shot at the job but it's down to P.J., one of two Irishmen who own the hostel and who makes the hiring decisions. The hostel is very nice, clean and neat with a big lounge area furnished with huge comfy sofas, a huge kitchen and dining room, free internet and breakfasts thrown in - it couldn't be more perfect. However, when I do meet P.J. he seems doubtful, and tells me he'll need to look over his lists to see if he can fit me in.

I spend the rest of the day on tenterhooks, unable to get on with anything because I don't know where I stand. I get out for a cheap (and pretty nasty) Chinese meal on Powell Street, then come back to mess around on the computers in the evening, still in that state of vacuum. Then, mid-evening, P.J. wanders by the desk with a wad of paper and says, almost as an aside, "Oh, you can start work tomorrow. Meet Andy in the lobby at ten, he'll show you the ropes. You're cleaning rooms."

I'm filled with relief and joy. It suddenly comes home to me how much I've been needing and wanting this chance...somewhere to stop for a while, where I'm not constantly thinking about the next trip, aware that whatever I find and whoever I meet I'll have to leave them behind in days. I have the opportunity to actually live somewhere. I start making lists of the hundred things I want to do in San Francisco, my new home for a little while.