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Travel is always eventful. And in my case? The journey is as interesting as the destination almost all the time.

I’d like to begin with thanking Emirates for making my life difficult from the first check-in at the Bombay airport. Really. Now I know what it’s like trying to lift a 26 kilo bag after doing a corporate desk job for 6 months and unpacking and repacking 3 kilos into another backpack while the line behind me shuffles with annoyance. Really, Emirates? It’s 3 kilos and I had all of one suitcase instead of the permitted two. I thought I’d packed light. Quite the start, I must say. Add too many electronics being stuffed into a backpack almost as big as me and nearly knocking people over as I walked? I was already wondering why I had set out on this trip.  I could’ve been at home, binge watching Game of Thrones or reading cheesy young adult fiction but NO. Let’s fly 10,000 miles to go work on an organic blueberry farm. I could’ve done strawberries in Mahableshwar but clearly my love for berries wasn’t exactly the driving force there. Oh well.

Moving on to the flight now. I’ve always wanted to meet someone on an airplane, have a really meaningful conversation with them and keep in touch after. But that only happens in movies and books and to that one friend who met a cute German boy on a plane, right? Throughout my long history with flights, I have never, ever met a person who I’ve been able to have a long conversation with. Nose diggers, burpers, loud snorers, you know the type? I’m a magnet for them. This time was a little different though. While I did not end up having any ‘meaningful conversations’, I did meet an excited young guy on his way to Mountain View to intern with Google. The conversation was limited and disturbed by baby wails in the background but very interesting and definitely an improvement over the past. And hey, we might even keep in touch. I’m happy. The remaining part of the flight was heavily aided by the onboard wifi, the excitement of flying over the North Pole and wine to drown out the wailing babies (yes, plural).

Hours later, there I was. In San Fransisco, my favourite city.  Wondering what the hell am I doing halfway across the world, miles away from home. My lopsided, anxious self almost wanted immigration to deny me entry and send me back home. But they didn’t and I’m so glad.

As I got onto the airporter to go to Sebastopol, the anxiety died down. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone, doesn’t it? Or maybe your comfort zone simply expands. I don’t know but I’m sure I took a step in the right direction. I met a lovely lady on the bus who kept me company throughout and was nothing less than engaging and interesting and even kept an eye on my bags when I went to grab a bite later on. Thank you, Jacqlene. You are awesome.

Two hours later, I arrived at one of the most beautiful places I have ever set my eyes on.  

The Duckworth Family Farm. 80 acres of nature- pristine and untouched. I was welcomed by warm people and even warmer food which I was too hungry to click pictures of. Besides, it wouldn’t be too nice to make mouths water as this is being read (just think along the lines of warm cornbread with butter).

Now, I don’t even remember why I was so anxious in the first place. This place is wonderful. I love it. And more about it coming up  as and when wifi permits.

Life is good. Until next time!