Just got back from my second job interview with a hostel in SF...
The first one was at the Green Tortoise Guest House in North Beach (http://www.greentortoise.com/san-francisco-hostel/index.php), which was AWESOME, but they were looking to fill an assistant/joint manager slot and couldn't hire me for only 4 months. The guy who ran the place seemed very nice and down-to-earth and he told me I would be ideal for the job and was very disappointed to hear I will be leaving in September. Dang!
The interview today was at USA Hostels, which also looks wonderful, and they seemed more willing to deal with the fact that I can only work for 4 months. They were lovely people and really seemed enthusiastic about hiring me but I can't get my hopes up, since they have to interview more people this week. Oof. Wish me luck on that one.
In other news, my parents went back to Reno today, and I am taking the Greyhound bus there tomorrow. Here is the difference between bus travel in the USA and in South America, as far as I can gather: bus stations in the USA smell like pee, as do most of the people in the bus station/on the buses/within 100 meters of the bus station. Bus stations in South America, however, smell like fried dough and are frequented by normal, non-urine-soaked people. I have a feeling my bus ride tomorrow may be extra sketchy, as I am taking the "Lucky Streak" casino route to the Biggest Little City. That's right, they drop me off right at the door of Circus Circus, so I can waste no time shattering my hopes and dreams along with the other glassy-eyed sad sacks parked at the nickel slots. Sigh.
Oh, one more thing. Today I went back to Stanford for a doctor's appointment. It was bittersweet driving around that gorgeous, country club-esque campus. I felt quite a pang of nostalgia or two -- I won't lie -- especially when I drove past Wilbur Field -- site of many a day of lying out frying myself as a freshman -- and saw that is is being turned into a parking lot. As we passed, my dad said, "They paved paradise..." That might be stretching it, but not really.
The highlight of the trip to Stanford was picking up a copy of the Stanford Daily -- I am sad to report that the Daily has become even more pitiful than it was when I graduated, and that is saying something. Now it's like a folded piece of paper with a soduku puzzle and an obligatory editorial bitching about the draw. Oh and today there was an article about how we should refer to the homeless as "unhoused." Oh, Stanford.