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HomeTravelListener Stories of Leaving Home: From San Francisco to Japan

Listener Stories of Leaving Home: From San Francisco to Japan


Dylan Thuras: Hey, Dylan here. You have reached the Atlas Obscura podcast line. I’m not home right now, but leave me a message about the first time you left home to live away on your own, to live away from your parents, to experience what it was like to be an adult for the first time. Maybe you were leaving a small town. Maybe you were moving from one big city to a different one. Tell me about your adventures. After the beep.

This is an edited transcript of the Atlas Obscura Podcast: a celebration of the world’s strange, incredible, and wondrous places. Find the show on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and all major podcast apps.

The Golden Gate Bridge as seen from the Marin Headlands at sunrise. Frank Schulenburg / Creative Commons BY-SA 3.0

Jane Zimmerman: Hello, my name is Jane Zimmerman. The first time I left home was when I graduated college early in December of 1983. And I went to college in Minnesota, and the first big blizzard and subzero chill was coming down from the Arctic, just as a friend of mine who had graduated in spring said, Hey, I need a roommate in San Francisco, California. So I flew from the Twin Cities all the way to San Francisco, California. I was enchanted. And I loved San Francisco from the very beginning. I count it as my first time away from home because I did find temp work, but I also was covering all my own rent, my health insurance. I was a fully fledged adult. I was off my mom’s payroll, my single mom who really didn’t have a whole lot to keep us going. I woke up to strange smells I couldn’t identify. It turned out to be roasting coffee from all the little Italian coffee roasteries that were on Telegraph Hill in North Beach at that time. I would walk down the hill to the financial district, where I had a bunch of temp jobs until I finally did land a permanent job that came with health insurance and benefits. And on my way down the hill, I would stop at a little Italian bakery. When I was feeling sad about not being able to find a job, the owner, Maria said, as I was buying a donut from her, “Why you look so sad? You are young, you are beautiful. You are just like me at your age.” There was just always something wonderful to wake up to every morning. And at night, the sound of the foghorns you could hear from the bay.

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