San Francisco and Scientology

I've become a tourist for a week, I'm currently in San Francisco before heading up north to see some giant redwood trees. I set off this morning at 4.30am in style - the taxi I had order turned out to be a limo! However my journey did not continue this way... The greyhound bus was about three quarters of an hour late and I had to wait in front of the bus station, even Santa Barbara is slightly chilly at that time in the morning. Eventually the packed bus set out just as the sun was beginning to rise and I was lucky enough to see it rise over the mountains. The journey was fairly uneventful, although very long (ten hours), thankfully I slept for a lot of it. We travelled up Highway 101, past many mountains, through valleys and past loads of Mexican immigrants working on farms (the Californian economy depends on Mexicans, they are a large minority and most signs are translated into Spanish).

Eventually I got to San Francisco and after finding my hostel I set about finding my first real meal of the day (at 4pm - prior to that I'd had 2 apples, 2 oranges and a packet of crisps, nothing like a well rounded diet). I walked into Chinatown and found a cheap and cheerful restaurant, I asked the waitress for the most authentic meal they have and ended up with a "Chow fun with Beef and Greens", it consisted of bean sprouts, beef, spring onions and something that I'm concerned may have been thin strips of fat. Whatever it was it was a delicious bargain - only $5! There is an Afghani restaurant near the hostel that does a lunch buffet, I have to try it. I also did a bit of shopping, buying a travel journal, a tiny statue of a Boddhisatva for my friend Rhiannon and a Christmas present for my sister.

After dinner at the hostel an Australian girl I've met and myself decided to go to a comedy club for the night, once we had go there we discovered it cost $19 and decided our money was better spent elsewhere, but we took a slightly different route on the way back and ended up walking past the Church of Scientology, that happened to be offering tours, so we decided to go in. It was fascinating - it was set out exhibition style and the first five or so boards were dedicated to the life of L.Ron Hubbard, much less time was dedicated to actually explaining what Scientology is. They had videos of various speeches all of which had massive flaws in their arguments - the assumptions just stood out. The rules Scientologists have to follow mean that they cannot discuss any problems they may be experiencing with their faith and they have to promise allegiance and devotion to any group they are involved in (which presumably includes Scientology). There is so much brainwashing, all of the exhibits showed pictures of beautiful people enjoying themselves and prospering. It was very commercial and very judgmental. They laid claim to a lot of things other people have done (such as administrative systems, drug rehabilitation, etc). It was very interesting, but at the same time very concerning. I've filled in their personality test (200 questions!), what will they make of me? They also have seminars in the day, I may pop along and pose some exceptionally awkward questions. I'm very glad I walked that way home, it has made my day much more entertaining.

As you may be able to tell I'm feeling a lot more positive today, life is easier as a tourist and I've had an enjoyable day. I've also learnt that a dime is worth ten cents, for some reason the American mint assumes everyone automatically knows what a dime is and so doesn't feel the need to put its monetary value on the coin... Hopefully these little discoveries will come easier as a tourist and I won't feel nearly so awkward as I have done recently. I think that I'll have to learn to be very patient with myself and then I'll be fine. I'll take plenty of things for granted soon enough and life will become easier.

America at last!

I have finally made it to the land of the free! After travelling for about 24 hours I finally arrived in Goleta, CA and found my apartment which from the outside looks like a motel. I managed to mess up my wi-fi access on the first night and have been without it for a few days, so I'm writing this on my third day here.

According to some of the bumpf I've been given I'm meant to be in phase one of cultural adjustment: Euphoria, "You are excited about the newness of your environment and initial discoveries of your host country." With me that lasted only a few hours before heading straight towards phase 2: "Culture shock - You begin to realize all of the cultural differences between home and your host country and you may not be happy with these differences. This is a common homesickness period." Whilst I'm not homesick I'm already fed up of not knowing what the hell is going on, I cannot trust myself at all. Most previous assumptions that I've used my whole life I now have to rethink, its all the tiny things that get me, like not hailing buses - in America if there is someone waiting at a bus stop then the bus stops, even if they don't want it. I have made a fool of myself about this and many other things. I'm only now realising what I've let myself in for.

Just before I left my next door neighbour told me that America isn't really that different from England, that I wouldn't encounter too many problems. Maybe that's true for tourists, but living here is entirely different. I have to ask help for everything. When I first went to Uni in England it took me a little while to adjust and I had to ask questions, but that was more a matter of geography, not basic things such as what something is called, or whether it is possible to buy jam. I know that soon enough I will know these things, they will seem automatic, but at the moment I feel that I'm on a steep learning curve and I'm going to have to work much harder than the average student just to keep up.

I actually really like the place I'm living in, its a suburb of Goleta called Isla Vista (or just IV) that is populated almost entirely by students, it is really relaxed and is full of underage drinking and illegal drug taking. It is so different from my home Uni. Its a short walk (or cycle - there are loads of bikes everywhere) from both the beach and campus and everyone is really nice. I got invited to a party that was being held in the flat below me and one of the guys just knocked on the door and invited me down. I went and had a few beers and met some new people, they weren't the kind of people i would usually hang out with but it was a good experience non the less. There is an English girl living next door to me and she's been really helpful, she brought me some tea bags earlier and we've had nice long chats (it was her boyfriend who fixed my wi-fi). I like the place, but I don't feel like I belong here yet, I can't relax properly, but when I do I know I'll love it.

This blog was meant to be light hearted, but at the moment I'm suffering from jet lag (my body wakes me up at about 6am) and fatigue brought on by thinking about everything. Hopefully when I reach phase 3 (surface adjustment) I'll be able to tell you about all the silly things I see, such as gas stations called Jiffy Lube and an English pub in Santa Barbara that has "No Wankers" written on the door, but at the moment I'm too tired and have to pack for going to San Fransisco tomorrow. I'm looking forward to just being a tourist and not having to try and buy things such as duvets (which I discovered are called comforters)or blue tac (tac), I think it will be much easier and more fun. I am now definitely able to see why foreign students often hang around together, its just easier. Hopefully I'll fight this urge and will come as close as possible to assimilation.

Ready, set, go!

It is the eve of my departure and I am still finding it hard to get my head around the fact that I'm going and that this time tomorrow I am going to be flying across America, I'm sure it'll hit me that there is no going back whilst I'm flying and I'll start having a panic attack and have to be restrained by the cabin crew, although obviously I'll do my best to avoid this scenario...

I'm sitting here in my nasty old clothes that I should have thrown out years ago, in the time honoured tradition of travellers. This should convince me that I'm going and yet it hasn't, neither has my farewell stroll of the suburb I live in, but going to my local for what will probably be my last legal drink for a year may help.

But I'm all packed up and ready to go on my 20hrs+ journey tomorrow. Quite how I'm going to look when I turn up at my apartment tomorrow and am greeted by the girl I'm subleasing from I dread to think, she'll probably take one look at me and think she's unknowingly unleashed a psycho on her friend who I'm sharing the room with. And that's if I'm awake enough to be lucid...

I've been sorting out my travel plans as well, I'm only in Santa Barbara for 2 days before going to San Fransisco for a few days and then up further north to see some giant redwood trees. All by myself. I'm a big girl now, I should be able to look after myself and make friends in the hostels I'm staying at.

I'm hoping that from now on this blog will become a lot more interesting, my sister keeps going on about how boring it is, but this should change when I actually get there and can fill this with lots of witty observations about Americans (and my own) behaviour. From now on you're actually allowed to read this blog.

Visa fun

I think that the US make Visa's deliberately hard just to spite those who want to come, the amount of paperwork is ridiculous. I had to provide them with all my families details (name, address, phone number) as well as the details of two people who I'm not related to who can verify it all for me (I don't think anyone I'm not related to knows all that information), my previous employers and bank statements confirming that I can afford to go. It got me very stressed and fed up, however it gave me a great excuse to go to London and stay with a friend of mine and it should all be over now.

When you arrive at the embassy you report to someone who directs you into one of four very slow moving queues and told to remove your belt (what do they think we're going to do, hang ourselves out of frustration at the long wait or depression if our visa doesn't get approved?). I think I queued for well over half an hour before I got to the front where a fat security guard checked my papers again and looked at my passport (security guards mandatory passport photo joke: "Ohh... close enough", he chuckled to himself after this and he said it to every passport he saw) then directed me into another queue (smaller this time) to await being security checked. You're bag gets x-rayed and you have to go through a metal detector, no electronic devices are allowed beyond that point. I thought you couldn't bring phones at all but people did (which is very frustrating when I left mine at home and ended up getting stressed over where my friend was when she was half an hour late to meet and couldn't contact me) I thought I hadn't got a single electronic device on me, but forgot about my electric tooth brush, which I was forced to leave in the guard hut. Is it really possible to set off a bomb with a tooth brush? Even if it is wouldn't people look at you a bit weirdly if you were turning on an electric toothbrush in the middle of the embassy?!

Once I had made it through security there was a bit of a walk around the building until you can finally enter it, a bored guy sitting behind a desk checks your papers again and you then get given a ticket and ushered into the waiting area. It felt like being in Argos, waiting for your number to be called, there were 4 big screens that flashed the number of the person being served on it and your position in the queue. It didn't take more than half an hour to be called up to a little booth where an administrator sat behind a glass window and took your forms and fingerprints. I was then handed a blue form and told to fill it in whilst I waited for my interview. This time it took considerably longer to be called and when I did I was called to a different booth with a different administrator (presumably higher up) who relieved me of my passport (I now can't leave the country for a few days) and told me I'd been approved.

There was only one more hurdle between me and freedom - the courier company. After paying $200 in visa related fees (as well as the cost of coming to London) I was understandably annoyed to discover that I had to pay a further £13.50 for the delivery of my visa. Is it not possible to receive it then and there? And why does it cost quite so much? Ah well, there was nowt I could do about it and the sun was out for once (makes a change from the torrential rain that is fast becoming the norm) so I made and made a bid for freedom.

When I was allowed to put my belt and watch back on I was astonished to discover that it was only 11.30 and my train didn't leave till 4 so I sat in Grovesnor park for a bit and assessed my map. I was pleased to discover that I wasn't that far from Oxford Street so I spent the rest of the afternoon shopping and some how managed to resist buying a lot of things on the basis that I wouldn't need them in California or they were too heavy.

It still seems that I have loads of preparations to do before I leave (less than a month to go!) although I am making progress, I have sorted out a cheque in dollars for my first rent cheque (or check to the Americans) and got myself new contact lenses that can be sent over cheaper, I have also looked into cell phones. Actually, writing it down makes it look like nothing. I really will have to knuckle down, and stop being so lazy.

The last few weeks have been really busy for me, filled with revision and exams (which are now finally over), short holidays, farewells, packing, visas and unpacking.

I'm now home from Uni for the holidays, I packed up and said my goodbyes to all my friends. It was weird, particularly as I probably won't see some of them for many years to come due to them studying abroad when I come back for my final year. I've been really lucky with the people on my corridor this year, I've lived with people whom I never previously thought I would get on with and on the whole we got on fairly well. I can only hope that I'll be as lucky next year.

Just before I left I received my certificate of eligibility for my visa and discovered that I had made a false assumption when buying my plane tickets for the second time. To me it seems logical that the certificate would put the date that I had to be in the country as the start of term, but oh no, not UCSB, instead it dates it from the start of classes, 5 days later. The result is that I have to change my plane tickets to 5 days later and am now unable to see my friend Juliana at all. Bastards.

On top of this applying for the visa has been an expensive nuisance, not only do they want to know information about me, but also about who I am staying with. Along with whether I have ever been a prostitute, a Nazi and/or had mental health problems. I'm surprised they didn't ask me whether I was a Muslim. It took me about 5 times to get all the information right and cost me $200 in visa fees, plus £1.20 a minute whilst I was making a (fairly long) phone call to get an appointment for a visa, where I will be finger printed. Studying abroad better be damn well worth it.

Farewells

Leaving is finally becoming real to me, today I said goodbye to Stu, a friend who lives on my corridor, for the next 15 months. I can't really comprehend not seeing these people that I have grown to love for anywhere near that long. The prospect of not seeing my closest friends and family and friends for over a year is scary. Reality has actually kicked in. I might actually cry when I say my big goodbyes.

I hate farewells, something always happens to delay the leaving and so you're left hanging around for ages wanting them to just go away. This was the case today, Stu had planned to leave at 2 but didn't infact leave till quarter to three, I'm a busy woman and can't hang around all day. The prospect of leaving is usually worse than actually leaving and prolonged farewells are just hideous, sitting in the car driving to the airport, it is hard to have a normal conversation that doesn't get down to "I'll miss you". Its not necessarily so bad if you're the one leaving because it is your choice to leave, but when you don't want the person to go, and yet know they have to, it is the worst. Perhaps we should only announce our depatures 5 minutes before leaving, so I should have not told my parents that I'm studying abroad, but wake them up at 5am on the 23rd of August and tell them I'm off to California for a year and the taxi is about to arrive to take me to the bus station. Of course, if you did that you would miss out on the goodbye parties...

Travel Plans

Instead of doing the sensible thing of flying straight to California I'm visiting a really good friend of mine, Juliana, in Cincinnati, OH first. This will be great fun, she'll help me acclimatise to the US (by showing me a gun shop!), I might get to see a bit of America and I can't wait. The only downside is that I have an environmental issue with flying (thanks mum and dad) and I will always avoid flying wherever possible, so instead of flying across the continent I have decided to go by Greyhound bus instead. I'm trying desperately to remind myself of the good points of this, the reasons that I am doing this - the environment, its cheaper, it will give me a sense of the scale of the country (which mum feels I seriously lack), I'll take in some amazing landscapes that I've never seen before, and Greyhounds are iconic, etc.

All was fine, I had successfully deluded myself that the two days and a half days journey would be fine and then, this evening, I made the mistake of looking at the details of my planned trip. It takes in a grand total of 8 states and goes through Las Vegas, Indianopolis, Kansas City, Denver, LA (not in that order) and many other little towns (there is actually somewhere called Junction City, imagine the English building a town around the Spaghetti Junction - oh, wait we did, it's called Birmingham) as well as mountains and desert. Somehow this hadn't really managed to scare me until I saw the total mileage of my journey: 2504 MILES I don't think I have ever travelled that far in my life, and that doesn't even count crossing the Atlantic. Suddenly I have a fairly accurate picture of just how far I will be from my family and friends and just how big the US really is, my mind can't quite comprehend this. I must be mad absolutely mad.

And yet whilst I am pretty scared I am also exhilerated, the idea of going on an adventure, being independent, seeing all these new landscapes, meeting new people, seeing new places. It's just thrilling. Sure, by the time I get to Santa Barbara I will be officially knackered, and yet have to find my way to my new home, introduce myself to my new housemates and move in, but its all part of the adventure, and I really feel in need of an adventure.