shashasha

In the 1970s and early 1980s, trips to Asia always began in California. Sailing by freighter from San Francisco, or on multi-stopover air tickets to Tokyo or Bangkok, departing from SFO or LAX. I stayed in cheap hotels, or half-slept in all-night cinemas, walked the streets photographing by day and by night. Lingering for days or weeks, traveling by Greyhound to other cities, and then at some point eventually boarding a plane or ship to cross the Pacific.

The US west coast has always been a magnet for young searchers, and it was for me as well. Though in my case it was also a vast departure lounge, a long drawn out stopover, perhaps more than a final destination.

In a way these pictures mark the beginning of a trip I never returned from. A time of heightened anticipation: the new everyday around me, and the one to come when finally arriving in one of Asia's great cities (and, as it turned out, not leaving for decades).