Page 1 of 20 pages from 20 years living in the USA

My best friend in this world Maryalejandra Montiel, Zuliana de Aviacion, American Airlines, LAX, the City of Los Angeles, the mountains of the Sierra in California, Greyhound buses, the Muni buses in San Francisco, Market Street, the Castro neighborhood, they are all part of my first living year in the states.

My friend Maryalejandra drove me to the Aeropuerto Internacional de La Chinita in Maracaibo, where I am from. Our way to the airport was filled with talk about dreams, and the intense desire of going for something that I wasn't sure what it was. She was the only one knowing I wanted to stay in the USA, and I didn't know exactly how to do it.

Flying to a new country and going for my dream meant, literally, to take an airplane. Between Maracaibo and Miami I flew with Zuliana de Aviacion, an old airline that went out of business in Venezuela. But, from Miami to Los Angeles was the big dealfor me. I was flying on an American Airlines flight across the country on a fly longer than 4 hours, a big aircraft, and people I had never seen before in my life.

Sitting on a window seat, and flying to run 26.2 miles. As I am getting closer to my destination, I saw the mountains of the Sierra full with snow, something I had never seen before in my life. I kept looking through the window wondering, just wondering. I can't remember about what, but my eyes kept staring at the magnificent sightseeing. "WOW", I said to myself, "WOW".

Then we landed. Then, getting through Los Angeles International airport (LAX), and to follow instructions I had written on how to get to Buena Park, CA to the place I was going to stay, the relatives of a friend of mine back in Maracaibo, from Bolivia.

I was welcomed in the beginning, but eventually not welcomed after a week being there. I ended up staying in a Motel near the area where I was in Buena Park, close the Knott's Berry Farm amusement park. Within a couple of days, the time was set up to go to San Francisco. A city I always wanted to visit, to be, to experience, and, I did it. I got my Greyhound bus ticket, and I was on my way for a 5 days visit to the city by the Bay.

I can't recall many things about the first time I went to San Francisco. Still, I left most of my stuff in Buena Park, because I had to get back there if I was going to go back to Venezuela. I took enough clothes for those 5 days. The bus left at Midnight, and I was in San Francisco by early morning.

I can resume my memories from that first visit to San Francisco by walking around the Civic Center area where the beautiful City Hall is, walking Market street, staying in a hotel on Mission street and 8th street, going to the Castro, and meeting Michael and Randy, my first friends in the city, and who opened their home for me to stay a little longer. I made a good connection and developed a great friendship with Michael, because he was Latino from San Juan, Puerto Rico, he played volleyball, and loved to dance salsa, and we had that in common. Michael died of AIDS a year later. He was my first friend who died of AIDS, and the second person close to me of dying of this awful disease. The first one was my brother Leandro 3 years earlier.

I eventually went back to Buena Park to pick up the rest of my belongings, and come back to San Francisco, via the Greyhound buses, of course, and one thing I remember from those days is listening to Phil Collins, Billy Ocean and Roxette. Their music accompanied me everywhere. I had a Sony Walkman and tapes (cassettes) which I kept playing on the bus rides between San Francisco and Los Angeles.

Back in Buena Park, I picked my stuff and left, but not without first, spending almost a full day in a park waiting for the night when the time to go and take the bus was set, and second, getting a ticket for crossing a street not at the pedestrian cross area, but instead, in the middle the street. I got "pulled" over by this police officer, who called me, I was not understanding anything, but I remember, he asked me for my ID, I gave him my passport and he wrote a ticket for the violation. I felt violated, but then, I was just a tourist who didn't know anything, or any better.

Eventually, I arrived again back to San Francisco. I took the Muni bus for the first time, carrying a huge piece of luggage with me, which people on the bus couldn't care less, and stayed with Michael and Randy in the Castro area. I was not sure what was going to happen next, but I was enjoying the time being, and all the experiences I was living.

24 years old, "alone" in San Francisco, barely speaking English, but happy. Afraid, but happy. Without a plan, but happy. Very little money, but happy. Not knowing, but happy. And this first "page" is more than a page, but I am happy sharing it with you.