Exit Your Comfort Zone
2011-2020
Sayaka Ueno
Exit Your Comfort Zone © 2020 Photography & Design by Sayaka Ueno www.sayakaueno.com Edited by Jennifer Ueno
“Of all the books in the world, the best stories are found between the pages of a passport.�
Exit Your Comfort Zone 2011-2020
Foreword 2011 Northern California Seattle Bonnaroo Music Festival 2012 Miami 2014 Mexico Midwest Canada 2015 North & South Carolina 2016 Vermont Greece
2017 Utah Boston Washington D.C. London Paris 2018 Italy 2019 Philadelphia Ithaca San Francisco 2020 Covid with New York sprinkled through out
Foreword
Exit Your Comfort Zone was created from the realization that I had over a decades worth of images in my dropbox and not a single published image from my adventures abroad. Travel imagery is an ambiguous cross pollination of landscape, portrait and still life photography. Some images depict a moment, while others capture a feeling. I hope this book transports you around the world and changes your perspective of life’s journey. I hope it brings awareness and sparks curiosity for all of the beautiful cultures in various communities. D
2011
Northern California
Redding is a small town closer to Oregon than the city of
Sacramento. Mostly agricultural, one of it’s more interesting offerings is the Sundial Bridge. Crossing over the Sacramento River, it connects Turtle Bay and the Bluffs. On the bluff side is a mountain biking trail with steep inclines and stunning views. An unexpected sight while flying down the trail one afternoon was a mountain lion. It came panting down it’s own trail, only stopping once it had reached the rivers edge for a drink. We watched in silence, hoping the sounds of our heartbeats wouldn’t give us away. As we headed back to the car to get out of there, we passed a man headed in the direction of the mountain lion. We recommended he also leave and to our surprise he said, “The only reason a mountain lion would be on the move and needing a drink in this heat – nearly 100° – is if something bigger is chasing it”.
Seattle, Washington
Looking back, my favorite memory of Seattle is the birds.
A city built on the water, they are an ineliminable element of nature in a city built on water. They surveil for their next meal, even if it means terrorizing small children or dive bombing overflowing trash cans at Pike Place Market.
Bonnaroo Music Festival Manchester, Tennessee It felt like all 89,000 people that were attending the music festival had shown up at the This Tent for Florance & The Machine’s dusk set. Their Bonnaroo debut was underway with the crowd spilling past the structures perimeter. Dust in our airways, we serenaded in harmony with angelic Welch. People continued to scratch their way to the front, countless bodies climbed the rafters to claim a better view of the monumental set that we could feel through our entire bodies — a collective experience of music festival history.
New York I had finally made it. 6 years of day dreaming had culminated in my acceptance to a prominent art school in Brooklyn and a move to the East Coast from my tiny island home in the Pacific. I had only visited New York City once before – when I was 12 years old – yet my obsession pushed me to move nearly 5000 miles to create a life there. This photograph was taken on my first visit to Central Park – on a warm, late summer day. D 2011
2012
New York
When I first moved to the city, I would wander the Lower East Side for hours. One day I stumbled into 4th Street Photo – an eclectic hole in the wall gallery operated by no bullshit but happy to chat Alex Harsley. I loved the chaotic arrangement of styles and colors, that felt cohesively curated by the passion for the medium. 9 years since taking this photo, it reminds me to explore. It’s easy to stop discovering new places once you’ve lived somewhere for a while, too often the routine of life takes over but exploring your own backyard can often lead to the most important self discoveries.
Miami
South bound on the I-95 from New York to Miami, my friends
and I stopped at my hanai aunty and grandma’s house in Hollywood, Florida for a night. They greeted us with cerveza and enchiladas. Being potheads, we brought weed. We rolled a blunt with an excessive amount of kief and once we had all sat down at the table to partake, we sparked it up. After a couple rotations, my grandma looked over at me and said, “I’ve never smoked a blunt,” we all laughed and without missing a beat she giggled and said, “I’ve never eaten enchiladas this good either”.
New York
Linking Staten Island & Brooklyn, the Verrazano is my favorite bridge in New York. We crossed it coming back from Miami. By the end of that drive we were searching for pennies under our seats to pay the tolls to get home. Coming from Hawai’i, I hadn’t experienced tolls and didn’t know to keep cash on hand — leaving New York is a lot cheaper that returning. I’ve crossed it a few times since, it’s narrow yet towering columns feel like gravitational defiance — appropriate for a city where anything is possible. D 2012
2014
Cabo San Lucas & Puerto Vallarta, Mexico
I headed into the desert of Jalisco to hike with a tour group.
The men leading us chattered in Spanish, occasionally including us in their banter, always ending in hilarity. On our way from the coast, we picked up a guy on the side of the road. It was a reunion party when he boarded, with hugs and warm greeting being shouted across the bus. With enough hands for our flailing gringo asses, we arrived to our base camp. Geared with plenty of water and snacks, we left the last scraps of shade and proceeded to get lost in the dry red and oranges of the dirt. I had always assumed that the cont.
desert was just barren, void of life, void of wonder — I could not have been more wrong. Blooming green cactus vibrate against the red dirt backdrop, intriguing bugs and lizards scurried past us. Stunning white shale crumbled under our feet as we switchbacked past cows enjoying their lunch. At the top of the mountain, we were greeted with a stunning lookout, canyons in every direction. Thriving greens polka dotted the terrain as far as the eye could see. Earth was flexing her color theory.
Something that I love about traveling is picking out keepsakes. I’ve shipped home a hand carved knife with a white bone handle from Greece; gourmet cheese & olive oil from Italy; perfume from Versailles. I always buy genuine leather goods when I travel to Europe because the craftsmanship and style is unbeatable. I had two things on my shopping list when I went to Mexico: a traditional textile dress and a bottle of Mezcal. We left the city center square — echoing with hoots and hollers of bargain price — filled with other tourists buying graphic tees reading “I went to Mexico” in neon inks. Walking along the highway, I observed the different cont.
styling of billboards and architecture. In less than a mile, shouting was replaced with traditional music and carnitas scented the air. We had found a strip mall of vendors quietly working with a liquor store across the street. A couple locals milled around, taken aback that two Americans had ventured so far. We found a dress shop and immediately a man emerged from the back. His children looked on — smiling if it looked pretty, laughing if it looked bad. I learned that the type of dress I had been envisioning myself in was Tabasco style, white with embroidered flowers. I bought an apron and purse in the same style. It was a priceless afternoon.
Midwest Roadtrip: Philadelphia
My partner in college had family in the Midwest and we had
been invited to a wedding in Minnesota at the end of August. Rather than flying there and back, we decided a roadtrip would be a fun alternative. Leaving New York early in the morning, we made it to Philadelphia within a few hours and picked up lunch. We didn’t visit any monuments. Just a quick stop for gas and philly cheesesteaks from Tommy DiNic’s at Reading Terminal Market. Pittsburgh was our next stop, 4 and a half hours away.
Pittsburgh
When we finally arrived in Pittsburgh, we were shocked to
find most of the town, including the grocery stores, closed – it was only 4pm. We managed to find a small butcher shop and picked up a few cuts to grill at our campsite for the night. Leaving the sleepy city, we crossed over to Ohio and found our spot for the evening. After a delicious bbq dinner and exhausted from the days travel, sleep came quickly. Rising with the sun, we thought a little exercise would do us good before our 7 hours leg straight to Chicago. After running a mile or two, I decided to admire some plants while my partner carried on with his run. He stayed on the path, while I decided to stray into the fields. By the time we arrived in Chicago, a red burning rash from poison oak had spread across my lower legs. It was the most excruciating car ride and left my legs looking terrible at the wedding.
Chicago
I can distinctly remember the first time I drove into Chicago from the south on Route 90. As I approached, skyscrapers grew up from the earth, splicing into the air. The buildings became so towering and close together in parts of downtown you can loose sight of the sky entirely. Accompanied by the “L” — one of Chicago’s Seven Wonders — the elevated tracks make the city feel like real life Jetsons. People on foot, bikers hugging the shoulder, cars speeding down one ways, trains flying over head, planes taking off to other cities. All of that industrial design and urbanism neighbors one of the Great Lakes, organically halting the progress of man with her cool breeze.
Minnesota
On our final leg of the journey, we stopped at the House on
the Rock. Upon arrival, we sat in a picnic area with a couple slices of cold deep dish. Within minutes of sitting down, we realized we were surrounded by deer and they were very interested in our pizza. We scarfed our slices down as quickly as possible and threw the box in the trash. We walked backwards to continue facing them and watched as they examined the empty box. When we entered the attraction, we mentioned our encounter with the attendant checking us in and they apologized saying, “they’re a local gang of deer that had been terrorizing visitors all summer”. It was one of the most memorable experiences of the trip. We got into Minnesota super late that night and headed to a friend’s house to sleep. The Walker Art Museum was a highlight in the Twin Cities but nothing beats the deer gang.
Ontario, Canada
For the return leg of the roadtrip we decided not to backtrack but rather do a loop. This put us on route to go north of the Great Lakes. Crossing the border into Thunder Bay, I immediately realized the terrain was unlike anything I had ever seen before. The mountains and plants looked prehistoric, almost as if time had stopped. There were spindly trees raising high into the blue sky with contrasting tufts of green at the top. We stopped at a look out along the way and the water looked purple. While the drive itself was breathtaking, we hadn’t bothered to convert kilometers to miles and just assumed going 75 miles/hour would be safe. When we got back to Brooklyn, we had over 8 speeding tickets from ariel cameras tracking our car.
New York
This was the year I started taking long photo walks in the
city. It was my last year of college and I wasn’t sure if I would be staying after I graduated. So, I decided to explore all of the neighborhoods where I had not yet been. A memorable day during that period was walking Broadway from 170th street in Washington Heights to the end of Manhattan. D 2014
2015
North Carolina
For our final Spring Break, my friends and I decided to roadtrip back down to North Carolina. We rented a car and booked a beach house in Pine Knoll Shores off the coast of Jacksonville. We sang shitty 2000’s songs, ate drive thru and smoked a lot of weed on the way. I think the reality of our time together ending was starting to kick in and we wanted to make the most of it. When we got to Pine Knoll we were shocked at how quiet it was. We assumed there would be a few other groups of college kids hanging out on the beach, enjoying break as well. Instead, we quickly found out it was still very much ‘winter’ in North Carolina and the odds of going swimming were slim to none. On our final day there, I convinced a couple people in our group to take a polar bear plunge – it was brutal.
South Carolina
Instead of heading back to New York, my partner drove down, picked me up and we headed to Charleston, South Carolina for a couple extra days. It was the longest duration of time I had spent in any southern state which meant it was a huge learning experience for me. It was a very unnerving experience to stand in front of slavery auction blocks and dungeons. Coming from Hawai’i and existing primarily in New York, I hadn’t been so blatantly confronted by the history of the confederacy outside of textbooks before. I was shocked at the wealth that was so evident in the older neighborhoods. Moss had found permanent homes on cobble, flourishing for years undisturbed, while life and human struggle carried on around them. I spent most of my time hiding behind my camera, in hopes of shielding my otherness.
Folly Beach
Head south for 20 minutes on the 171 out of Charleston
and you’ll find yourself at Folly Beach. From the moment I crossed over the island barrier, I felt the affinity of Hawai’i. Beach houses; lots of greenery; colorful signs for mom and pop establishments. We stopped at Lost Dog Cafe and I discovered Shrimp and Grits — my life has never been the same. After digesting, I paddled out to the line up. The Atlantic offers colder and choppier waves than the Pacific but you take what you can get. Wetsuit and booties on in late March, I sat on a small peak with a couple other people. Fun little rollers were coming in that would take us all the way to shore. I stayed out till the sunset, making new friends with two buddies; one from Brooklyn and the other from Hawai’i — what are the odds. D 2015
2016
Vermont
I had gone snowboarding only once before so I was just starting to get comfortable on the bunny slope again. A couple hours into the day, my partner convinced me to take the lift up to the top of Mount Snow for the view. I managed to safety load on and off of the lift, and the view was spectacular. Cold air has a way of making everything look crisp. And then I asked the fateful question – how I was supposed to get back down? The answer, snowboard. I had not realized that lifts were a one way ticket. If I had, I would have skipped cont.
the view and challenged myself on a green run. Instead, I found myself on the Far East double black diamond with a descent to base camp of 2,150 feet. What took my partner 15 minutes to run down took me an hour and half. People that had lapped me stopped to ask if I was okay. When I finally made if down the mountain I ripped off all of my gear, cried in the car for an hour and went to the dining hall and ate chili until I fell asleep. I sold all of my gear the moment I got back to Brooklyn – I will probably never snowboard again.
Upstate New York
Accessible by car or train, Upstate is an incredible getaway from the city. A two hour or less journey can land you in a
small town featuring a quaint Main Street, dotted with general stores and restaurants serving locally grown produce. For three seasons of the year it offers a diversity of hikes and waterfall adventures. One morning I woke up as the sun was rising, grabbed my camera and wandered down to the lake. For the first time in my life, I watched the mist rise from the water – a phenomenon I will never forget.
Crete, Greece
After a perfect afternoon on the pink sand beach of
Elafonissi, we hopped in the car to finish the commute from Chania to Palaiochora. I was the navigator, and after placing our destination in maps found that there was a “short cut” through the hills that was a third of the distance. Brilliant, let’s do it! Little did I know that we would be on a gravel path surrounded by goats, without guardrails at nearly 2500’ elevation with nonstop switchbacks. Quickly, I became a spot turner. I clutched my seatbelt, honestly believing we’d fly off a cliff and no one would ever find us. 45 minutes later, I kissed the paved road we had just gotten to and stopped for the sunset. The sound of the goats eating dinner in the hills with their small bells was sharper, the air had a distinct scent of olives, and I was grateful to be alive. I laughed — mostly out of stress, I’m sure — at what we had just survived. But to be honest, I’d do it all over again.
The night before leaving Crete for Santorini we drove into Heraklion, the island’s capital city. It was the furthest east on the island we had gone. Before leaving for this trip I knew Greece was on the front lines of the refugee crisis. With a large network of islands in the Mediterranean, it was often the first land migrants arrived to safely in the darkness of the night. 15 minutes outside of the capital was desolate, then suddenly lights flooded the streets, buildings wedged together, and people — people were everywhere. Dozens of languages being spoken simultaneously. Young to old, milling about; talking, yelling, playing music; cars cont.
zooming; bars and restaurants spilling over into the sidewalks; bodies pressed against walls sleeping; pan handlers working toward their next meal; sex workers on a corner. It felt like a battle zone. In the morning it was quiet, the streets empty, everyone was resting up to do it all over again. As we made our way to the ferry terminal, I saw graffiti that read “refugees welcome” and in that moment, I felt a small bit of peace. Heraklion is a city I want to go back to. I want to see all it has to offer outside of this single snapshot of reality I witnessed because I’m sure it has more than what met the eye that night — just as refugees do.
Santorini, Greece
Yes, those are fresh octopus drying in the sun on a clothesline. I watched fisherman haul those babies out of their traps in the morning. I dreamed about them all day and then enjoyed them for dinner that night. I had never had fava before — puréed yellow lentils perfectly salted with a grilled tentacle spiraled on top. The food in Greece is the best — hands down my favorite eating experience from all of my travels. Cliché but the yogurt was exquisite, a little sour but paired with local fruit and honey *chefs kiss*. I fell in love with a baked stew dish that I’ve tried to find a recipe for — not much luck because I don’t know the name. I will go back one day to find it, I will go back . . . for a stew.
Athens, Greece
As the last stop on the trip, we only spent a day in the capital
city. The must do activity was the Acropolis Museum and the 5th century temple monument sharing the same name. We started at the museum which features glass floors – exposing a working exhibit of archaeological excavations found beneath the museum itself. After a few hours of looking at some of the world’s most ancient artifacts, we stopped for a late lunch and then started our ascent to the temple. We took the walk slowly to better appreciate the design and fauna along the way. When we arrived at the top, military cont.
members were switching for the evening shift, gathering a crowd with their strict performance. As I looked down over the city of Athens, I noticed the streets all radiated off the hill we were standing on – like arteries flowing from a heart. The temple closed at dusk, and as we descended with the sun we got to observe the stone change color – first a brilliant white, then saffron yellow, followed by lilac and finally settling at an indigo blue – an intentionally stunning design from centuries ago, I’m sure. D 2016
2017
New York
Only in hindsight do I realize that the New York I learned to love was one under a particular guise of the Obama administration. From election day 2016 to inauguration day 2017, the city had taken a collective breath and hadn’t let it out. Approaching Columbus Circle on the morning of the 21st, I could feel that breath and all the energy surrounding it in the streets. Thousands of women, non-binary people and their male allies converged together to create a river of humans, roaring for equality and justice. In the subsequent years the city has changed. Or, maybe it reverted back to a state I never knew. Moments between strangers have less empathy, our judgment toward one another faster and harsher. It doesn’t scare me to see it this way because it’s important for me to relearn who I am within her parameter, for the city was here first and will remain long after me.
Utah
Utah is a silent beauty. Ranging between white capped mountain tops to lush green valleys, hypnotizing flat plains to vibrant red desert canyons, there’s a little piece of nature for everyone. I wish I had gone there sooner but I’ll definitely be back again. Don’t sleep on Utah.
During the two times I’ve gone to visit, I’ve gotten sick. It took me a while to figure out what the cause of my nausea and headaches were but it finally made sense when someone told me the average elevation of the state is 6,100’. Coming from ocean level Brooklyn or Hawai’i, I was definitely experiencing altitude sickness. Let this be a warning to anyone going for a visit, especially if you plan on hiking.
Boston
Monica’s Mercato in North End Boston is molto delizioso.
An old school Italian grocery that makes to-go sandwiches, it’s perfect for a picnic. Walk 10 minutes along the cobble to Long Wharf, and hop on one of the ferries that come every 30 minutes. Enjoy the 45 minute ride out to Spectacle Island with views of the city. Climb the hills, eat your sandwich and take a nap under a tree, a perfect afternoon.
Washington D.C.
The design of DC reminds me of Paris. Roundabout circles
that subdivide neighborhoods into numerous polygons. Expansive gardens and parks, like the National Mall surrounded by museums and national monuments. Each time you enter and exit one of the free landmarks, you’re greeted with greenery. A welcoming break for the eyes — lay down in the grass and watch clouds overhead or have a picnic with food from one of the dozen food trucks on the periphery. Locals are reading or playing frisbee; tourists strategize their next site visit.
London, UK
While I was on a trip in Paris, I went to London for a day so I could tour potential grad schools. While I was there the only food item I was looking to eat was a scotched egg — a soft boiled egg swaddled in sausage meat, breaded and fried. A friend had recommended it to me and as a savory egg lover, I had to try it. I ended up walking for hours popping into every cafe and pub I passed asking if they had it on their menu. Eventually I was so emaciated I settled on a croissant sandwich — delicious and also very on brand for me. To this day, I still haven’t had a scotched egg.
I have a bad habit of almost missing buses and trains. I run late, get distracted by breathtaking terminals or stop for a snack. I almost always end up having to sprint to the track. Luggage jumbled, sweaty and out of breath; once I even delayed a plane. I know the cold, hard stare from fellow passengers as you finally board. So I was not surprised when I missed my train from Paris to London early one morning — due to a longer than usual security line just after the Westminster attack. The trains are every hour, so it wasn’t a terrible delay. I ended up perusing the Gare Du Nord — wishing I was at King’s Cross already.
Paris, France
My first solo travel experience was to Paris & London. I was definitely nervous but as soon as I landed at the Orly Airport, I began to appreciate it. There was no compromising on plans, with complete flexibility to cancel my entire day if I wanted. I got to pick every museum and restaurant, all of my day excursions and hell, I could even go on a date. The only time I missed having a travel buddy was at night. I still went out to bars, clubs and took mass transit but there were definitely moments where I felt very alone. My biggest take away from solo travel is that all of those memories are your own — no one to share them with or reminisce, no one to add a forgotten detail.
This wasn’t an uncommon sight. Sitting or reclined back, tastefully dressed, affectionately yet appropriately holding one another in very public spaces. Smiling, talking and watching as the day passes by. It may not be a true romance but it definitely is more than lust. Enjoying one another for more than their flesh — ‘Lovers by The Seine’.
I ventured out into the rain for Versailles. It was so peaceful, hardly any crowds that early in the morning. I ate macaroons and drank wine in the gardens for lunch. I walked the Hall of Mirrors and saw Marie Antoinette’s famous yellow room. I felt like I was floating in a dream of past queens. On the train ride back to the city, the conductor gave me a hard time for not having an ID photo on my metro pass. I joked and asked if I could draw a self portrait — he was not amused. He gave me a stern warning and left. A women, having heard our conversation, sat down next to me and said I was a riot. She was French, but lived in Hong Kong. She had traveled and lived all over the world. She told me stories about Dubai and New York in the 90s. I told her about Hawai’i and New York in the 2010s. The commute passed quickly and on the platform we said goodbye — each taking a little part of the other’s spirit with them — passing ships on the journey of life; queens in our own right.
During a shared car ride across the city, I made an acquaintance with an Italian guy who invited me to hangout with him and some friends. The following day, we met at Coulée Verte René-Dumont and walked the garden style highline to Reuilly-Paul Pernin Garden. We had dinner. I had a delicious grilled octopus salad. They took me to Amazonas, a jungle themed bar with pitchers of mojitos for dirt cheap and another club bar also in the Bastille neighborhood. After a good amount of drinking, we ended up back at his Parisian friend’s apartment. I’m not sure how the conversation started but at a certain point I was in a fit of tears over the recent presidential election and my feeling of being an embarrassing American abroad. I will never forget the way he looked me in the eyes and plainly stated “Every country has a history it’s ashamed of – in Italy, it’s Mussolini – but it will not be forever.” His frank yet kind statement has always stayed with me.
On my last day in Paris, I woke myself before sunrise to get a jump start on the day. I went to the corner cafe for my last breakfast and after my espresso and croissant, I said goodbye to the server that knew my order after only a week. There was still so many places I wanted to see but at that hour, Notre Dame was my best bet. Exiting the Cite metro station, I quickly realized the small island in the middle of the Seine was a place of royalty — orange orb lights glowed in the underground; perfectly patinaed medieval structures now utilized as a precinct, a hospital, and courthouses. I walked East and found myself standing before her, awestruck. I didn’t know then, but in less than 2 years, it would never be the same. I am forever grateful that I got to see and experience the Cathedral in all her glory. The sun broke through the clouds just as I turned the corner into the gardens, giving the whole morning a sublime glow. D 2017
2018
Rome, Italy
Rome is a city that is wise with tradition, grey with memories
and old with experiences. It’s almost as if you can feel her age and want to talk softer, walk slower and listen harder. Seeing tourism in a city that should have peace was a new experience for me, especially as I contributed to it. It’s one of those places I’m grateful to have experienced but I’ll probably never go back — her longevity is more important.
I’ve written about unique keepsakes and exquisite food, but one of the very best reasons to travel is to visit friends. Maybe it’s an annual trip, maybe it’s for a wedding or a new job, maybe it’s just for the hell of it. The planning revives old memories and inside jokes while igniting anticipation. Sometimes a friend travels to you and you experience the latest in their life, vicariously. Maybe you get to pull back the curtain and experience their home, like a local. Other times you both meet in a foreign location and have no clue what’s going on. Nothing beats traveling with old friends.
Sardinia, Italy
From Rome, my childhood Italian friend invited my brother and I to join her on a visit to friends in Sardinia. I knew
that the tiny island off the coast was rural but I had no idea that lands were being sold there for a dollar to encourage new residency. During the short ride from the airport to our lodging, I realized this was going to be a very different experience. The live-work style was one often referred to as woofing, which I was not aware we’d be participating in until we got there. During our time there, we built a bench, a tire swing and started on a tree house. I learned about communal cooking over an open fire and would find myself sharing a glass of wine with the person sitting next to me at meals. At first I had thought woofing wasn’t for me – I can acknowledge my selfishness – but as time has passed, I have realized how much I value shared space with like minded individuals. One day I hope to return with this new feeling of enlightenment and re-experience what the land has to offer.
On our last day in Sardinia we hiked Sella del Diavolo, a cliff lookout just outside of Cagliari. The incline was steep on a loose dirt path, but as soon as we reached the peak the wind took us all by surprise. It howled so loudly we couldn’t hear one another speak unless we were a foot apart and screaming. It felt like it could easily pick each of us up and throw us into the ocean if we weren’t conscientious about grounding our feet – a magical place for releasing unwanted burdens.
2019
New York
The one stop from Wall Street to Rockaway Beach via ferry is Sunset Park / Brooklyn Army Terminal. A very industrial neighborhood, the heat radiating off the pier distorted the
downtown skyline into an impressionist painting. As I stood on the rooftop deck, I wanted to ask if everyone else was seeing it too. It was so explainable yet unexpected that I just stared while people loaded on and off — I almost didn’t want us to leave. I’ll definitely be taking that ferry ride again and when I do, I’ll look to see the city as a masterpiece.
Philadelphia
I took a day trip to Philly last summer by bus, which I almost
missed. I had 2 museums and 3 food spots on my to-do list. In between all that, I wanted to scope out a thrift store, a record shop and a book store. Needless to say, it was a little ambitious. I ended up skipping all the stores because I found myself in a Tibetan shop that had home decor and fashion in the front and a huge jewelry section in the back. Tables covered in endless rows of beads organized by color or country of origin. Multiple people were browsing, chirping excitedly when they came across a treasure. One woman was designing a beaded dress; another man was looking to surprise his granddaughter with a trinket for her birthday. We all chimed in with our opinions, transpiring into an unexpected conversation about art and creativity. Philadelphia has a vibe — over shadowed by NYC and DC — but man, she’s got a good vibe. And don’t even get me started on the food.
Ithaca
Ithaca had been on my radar for a few years. It’s famous for
Cornell University and it’s gorges. All over the small city you’ll see punny signs that read “Ithaca is Gorges”, and goddamn, she really is. A straight shot from NYC will get you there in 4 hours on a bus. You weave in and out of valleys on your way, passing houses and deer. Upstate New York really is an incredibly different experience than the city. Country living in rural towns with a flare of creativity. Walking through downtown Ithaca you see progressive wine bars, doggie cont.
cafes and marijuana shops. People are friendly and curious. The majority commute from smaller surrounding towns for the economy. Uber drivers had wild stories and insightful recommendations for a successful trip. They shared secret hiking drop offs and advised us against crappy restaurants. The highlight of the trip was Buttermilk Falls. 500’, we wound down mossy staircases till mist lightly coated our skin. The noise and movement of water was a powerful reminder that we are all guests on this planet. She will be here long after us all. It was super fun to see other groups of girls adventuring into nature too.
San Francisco
I spent a morning in the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park last fall. The sun was casting shadows at a slant with a soft golden glow. I try to remember the good with the bad on that trip. I had never gone on a trip where by the end I realized that I needed to change my entire life. I’m sure I would have felt that way no matter where I had traveled to at the time but I think it was meant to be San Francisco. I think I was meant to cry over leftovers in my aunt’s cozy house, I think I was supposed to be hugged and reminded that life isn’t perfect by best friends. That trip changed my life, and I’m just starting to figure things out again.
Twin peaks at sunset, a great idea. A seven mile run as my means of transport – a little extra. I threw on my shoes and checked maps for a general route. I weaved my way through a shopping district, an arts district, then Golden Gate Park. At a series of stop lights was a microcosm of bikers and runners, dodging and weaving at intersections for bike paths and running ways headed East or West. The hills in San Francisco are no joke but running a new city gave me adrenaline. The foothills of the peaks became so steep, walking was my only option. I made my way past houses on uneven stilts to balance out the floors. The occasional plateau had a look out, the first toward the Embarcadero. I was on the final stretch. A single winding road with guardrail. A little path cont.
had been carved out in the dirt to keep us off the pavement. Cars flew past me, also on their way to enjoy the sunset. As I rounded the corner to the make shift parking lot, the wind caught me. It howled and whipped my hair. It was an unexpected element of the experience. The sky was lavender and a golden orange but I knew I would have to beat the dwindling sun back before total darkness. The decent is always the best part. Legs moving in overdrive with gravitational momentum. The same cars passed me again as they sped off towards dinner and drinks. I passed the same woman sitting on her porch. The same man in front of a bodega. I stopped only to take a photo of a honey bear mural. The same golden honey color as the sky.
I hopped off the bus at Fulton and Steiner Street to see the Painted Ladies — the iconic row of pastel houses featured in the Full House opening credits. I had started a mini drawing series for San Francisco and thought the houses would be perfect. When I arrived, I found out that 2-3 of the homes had been demo’d — leaving gapping holes in the once perfect block. Regardless, it was still a beautiful day to sit in the park directly across the street. Alamo Square Park turned out to be a hotbed of entertainment. There were jackass style cameramen getting in the background of influencers’ photos, making dumb commentary to make them laugh or genuinely upset throughout their shoot. There were puppeteers putting on a production, and a man blasting reggae from a boombox. Every person that walked passed me stopped to watch me draw, as if I was part of the show too. I ended up staying a lot longer that I had planned, watching people react to the unexpected events that were unfolding in front of them, just as confused and amused as I was.
Here’s something I haven’t mentioned about weekend road trips: they are work. Do laundry midweek to pack on a Thursday night and carry that to work Friday morning during rush hour — receive glaring looks of simultaneous annoyance and envy. Leave at 3pm (what up summer Fridays) and take a 3-6 hour commute to the destination. Drop your shit off at the hostel/air bnb/friend’s house and find dinner, grab a drink, dance a little. Hit the ground running Saturday morning, go go go. Barely sleep either night cause you’re on a waterbed/futon/bunk bed. Get up at sunrise Sunday morning to squeeze in a last minute activity. cont.
Then run for a plane/train/bus/carpool home (refer to pre-
vious posts). Once, I lost my keys and couldn’t get into my
own apartment till 2am Monday morning. Then straight to work! The following week you’re basically in a daze, but you had such a good time you can mentally balance it out. By Friday you’re a shell of yourself because you’ve had no time to catch up. Can anyone else relate, or am I just a spaz? Is anyone even reading these stories anymore? Anyways, moral of the rant: it’s work, but it’s worth it. D 2019
2020
Hawai’i
It was not my intention to stay so long. I had come back for
the holidays and decided to skip the winter season in New York. I watched the sunrise every morning at the beach. I was in the ocean daily. I went outrigger canoe paddling and sailing with family. I ate plate lunch, poke and spam musubis. I got to reconnect with old friends. I got to explore new beaches and hikes. I learned more about my identity and relationship to the islands I had always called home but never known as an adult. I matured beyond the memories I still carry and began to appreciate the islands even more than I already had – a rare silver lining of a pandemic.
New York
Just as I was planning to book my ticket back, the news of covid-19 began to spread across media platforms. Spring came and went, bringing summer and civil unrest. In the midst of a global crisis, the unhealed wounds of racism bubbled over the surface. As a nation we were literally divided between life and death. I had to get back to New York – the city that raised me into a conscious woman, the city that showed me systemic racism and my place within its institutions, a city that would fight to protect black lives. I made it back in the fall and the city I came back to was changed again. Sunday brunchers sipped champagne in outdoor seating with twinkle lights that took up one ways and bike lanes, while protestors moved down blocks calling for equality. Our national bigotry was on full display and no one can look the other way. D 2020
Thank You Giulia, Christin, Ila, Gabby – my childhood friend family. Thank you for going on adventures with me. Shyun, my life and my travels would not be the same without you. Nina, you are a superstar. Sarah, you are also a superstar. Biggest thank you to my mom – your travel stories from the 80s and 90s were the best inspiration and bedtime stories I could have asked for. D
Artist Biography Sayaka is a photographer, designer, and aspiring writer. Her work has been published in the New York Times; Okayplayer; Color Tag Magazine; and In Conversation With. She has a BFA in Communications Design from Pratt Institute. She is the founder and curator of Mobius Photo. Sayaka was born in Japan, raised in Hawai’i and currently lives in New York City. She has been traveling since the age of 2. Her earliest memories include being in the bamboo forests of Indonesia. D