My 15 year old son and I are on day 7 of our New England visit. We have sailed through Kittery Maine, had the best lobster in New Hampshire, spent two full days in New York City, while using Boston, Massachusetts as our base camp - “Don’t be a Masshole.” :)

I am fascinated by the experience. For starters, my heart is cracked wide open at the kindness of people. We have been on planes, trains, automobiles, cabs, subways, shuttles and Ubers. The sameness...we all want the same thing. Yet, simultaneously, the differences.

The houses are vintage storybook pretty...usually 100 yrs old, small three bedrooms with one bathroom, and the light switch on the outside of the room. We attended a family friend's barbecue so we fully assimilated, playing corn hole with a cornhole champion, not kidding!

I eavesdropped on the dad sitting next to me on the train explaining freedom to his young daughter as we pulled into NYC. "Freedom means that you can choose your own friends. You can live the way you want, work  where you want." Wow.

In our hotel pool, the Dad from Pennsylvania, swimming with his toddler, giggling, splashing, and cooing. The Ethiopian cab driver, so proud of his recent IT degree. Grateful and hard-working.

We enjoyed our time and felt completely safe the entire visit, even in NYC, travelling alone. The Indian grandparents, telling their grandson tales of Grandad's time in the RAF; the Hindu mom who kept apologzing for having her son in the shower stall, because he was crying (I couldnt have cared less!). The generosity of spirit; when we were locked out of our hotel room but minutes from missing our train; the nice housekeeper that broke the rules by letting us in. The TSA agent that saw our lotion and cleanser was in a "too big" bottle but allowed it through and the bearded hipster that plugged my phone in from his set.

Most fellow travellers were exceptionally kind, the food was excellent everywhere. The diverse cultures were extraordinary.

The East Coast gals are no-nonsense! It is hard not to take it personally as a West Coaster, warm and fuzzy-craving. We gals greet each other with gushing “Oh my gosh, you look great! Where did you get that top? I’m so happy to see you. Thank you for coming, please sit down can I get you something?” We definitely are more sensitive and worry a lot about offending.

I think East Coast people are tougher and grittier, because of the weather? What say you? Something to be said for humble and grounded, salt of the earth, simple and solid.

Comparatively, I don’t consider myself a Californian, not having been born here and not especially a fan, the reality is that I have lived in California now for three and a half decades so whether I like it or not, it has rubbed off on me.

I wanted to share these thoughts while it was fresh in my mind and I’m in the experience. I really marvel at the similarities and differences. 

Upon landing back in San Diego, I immediately recognized effusive and super perky flight attendant's voice as a fellow West Coaster..."Thank you so o so so much for flying with us" in that whispery fracking Kardashian way...oooh, back in the motherland, soothing to my weary bones.

My hosts; Annette and Paul Doyle