You, me, and about sixty cyclists in spandex
by
mikka
This last Sunday marks a year since the night Iain and I met; it was also, weirdly, the day I was supposed to leave Hanoi according to my original ticket, so yay for changed plans and dumb luck. To celebrate, we took a day off from the job hunt and Japanese studying to go into San Francisco, where we rented bicycles and - alongside a herd of bewildered-looking tourists on identical bikes with their identical tourists maps stuck to their handlebars and a fleet of humorless, spandexed cyclists who did not enjoy sharing the road anymore than the cars - rode along the piers, across the Golden Gate bridge, and into Sauselito. Biking in the States is a far cry from riding my bicycle in Hanoi (the bad: seriously? you have to obey the traffic signals? the good: so does everyone else, which makes the likelihood of bus-inflicted death significantly lower) but we had lots of fun and, as ever, I still don't quite know how I was ever lucky enough to meet such an wonderful, smart, sweet and funny person with whom I can have all these adventures, but I am grateful for him every day, no matter where in the world we end up.
