Tree hugging and strange magicians in Klamath

Sorry I haven't blogged for a few days but my hostel was officially in the middle of nowhere. By officially I mean that the only means of communication with the outside world (short of heading to the nearest town) was a payphone. Somehow I coped for 3 days with no Internet and no cellphone. Admittedly I have no one to contact via my cellphone, but that is irrelevant.

Anyway I'm back in civilization now (San Francisco) for one night before I go back to Santa Barbara for a few days.

When I got on my bus and headed up north to a place called Arcata (pronounced Arcade-a) I hadn't actually booked anywhere to stay despite the fact that my bus was supposed to get in at 9.50pm in the evening (in actual fact it was closer to 11.15) because there are only motels in Arcata and the cheapest was $60 per night. The accommodation for my hostel up north for 3 nights cost that much! I had deliberately put off booking in the hope of finding somewhere cheaper. Luck was on my side and when I asked a girl from Arcata where the cheapest place to spend the night was she offered me a bed (or more accurately floor and sleeping bag) for the night. It was so sweet of her, this is the king of thing that just wouldn't happen in England, you don't open your house to strangers, but this 17 year old University student did. So instead of spending $60 I spent $0, bargain!

The only downside (and considering I got free accommodation I can't really complain) was that I had to leave when she did - 7.30am (classes start far too early over here). My bus didn't leave till 10.10am so I had 2 and a half hours to fill. Thankfully on the way to the bus station I found a Safeway and was able to occupy myself for a while. The actual shopping part was dull but trying to communicate with the shop assistant certainly wasn't. I realised I had no cash and so tried to get money out of an ATM but it didn't like my British card. This got me understandably scared, this was the first time I'd tried to use my card and it hadn't worked, I could well be without cash till my American bank card came through. I asked the cashier if there was another ATM near by and she told me to try the "bake", it honestly sounded like "bake" and I was wandering whether Bake sales in America had advanced so far as to give cash back. The lack of understanding on my part continued for quiet a while until I suddenly understood her, she meant "bank". She looked at her co-worker and said, "She's from England," as if it explained everything, which unfortunately it did.

After finding a "bake" and successfully retrieving money I then made my way to the bus station and sat and waited for two uneventful hours.

Finally my bus arrived and I discovered that I was the only passenger. My bus driver acted like my personal tour guide, pointing out 3 lagoons, an Elk and a section of a trunk of a tree that was felled to make way for the highway when it was 1000 years old. Eventually more passengers jumped on and it got so full that my backpack had to be placed on my lap and someone had to sit on someone else's lap. I was quite grateful when my bus dropped me off outside my hostel.

When I got inside the quaint looking hostel I was informed that I was a whole 4 hours early and would have to leave. I was allowed to leave my bags, make myself lunch and was given directions of a short hike. After crossing a dried up creek and walking half a mile north I found nothing to see so walked south down the highway to the front of the hostel where I crossed over and found possibly the most beautiful coastline I have ever seen, just in front of the hostel. The sand was grey and the surf battered the coast line and some of the rocks that were arrayed close to the shore. It was breathtakingly beautiful. I looked at the map and saw that I had to follow the coastal trail and was grateful to be able to continue looking at the sea. I had to scramble over at least a mile of rocks because I was so transfixed by the sea that I missed the trail that I was supposed to be walking on. I almost sprained my ankle too many times to count, thank God I'm young and limber because I did not see a soul for my entire rock scramble, a good hour and a half (I sat down and took in the surroundings a lot).

I eventually reached my destination - hidden beach a lovely beach hidden from any view but the sea. I watched cormorants and what I thought were seagulls (in fact Willets) for quite a while. When I tried to find the path that I should have been on I couldn't see it at all - there seemed to be no let up in the foliage that surrounds the beach. Eventually I saw what could be construed as a path and clambered over a couple of metres of driftwood (seriously, there was an awful lot of driftwood, or to be precise - drift-trees). The trail that I should have originally followed hid most of the views of the sea, which was very sad but I eventually found a bench where I could see the sea and sat down and read to use up the rest of the time before I was allowed to get into the hostel.

The evening was fairly uneventful, the hostel seemed to be mostly full of middle aged women who went to bed really early and got up really early. There were a few people to talk to - a Self-published author called Jai and a night owl called Elliot. I went to bed at what I consider to be a fairly early hour (11.30am), but the other two talked to the early hours.

The next day after being the last to wake up (9.30am - my longest lie-in in the US yet!) Jai and I headed in her car to the Redwood national park to try and see some REALLY BIG trees. Seriously, the redwood firs are huge, the tallest is about 380ft and they have been known to live 3700 years. We didn't see any that big, but they were still crane-your-neck-and-you still-can't-see-the-top-of-them big. I was disturbed to see that the visitors centre offered a nature drive - why yes you can spend a leisurely Sunday morning driving behind the rangers. Why would you want to go around in a car? You can't touch them, you can't see the top of them, you can't pose for silly photos next to them. Strange Americans.

Earlier in the day I had felt "the call of nature" in the middle of the forest, no restrooms nearby, so what can a girl do except squat? S I did this and after all was said and done realised I'd managed to pee down my leg, despite best efforts otherwise. Thankfully it dried quickly and humans couldn't smell it. Notice the word humans - dogs could, in the statutory gift shop I had a dog follow me around, wonder if the same works for men? Pee on yourself and adoring men will follow you everywhere. Don't think I'll be trying it anytime soon.

When we got back to the hostel we met a an Aussie who spent the early evening entertaining us disbelievers with magic tricks. We did not believe that his cards were unmarked (we were correct) and so found him a pack of cards from the games cabinet. Unfortunately he was still able to do the trick. He was very good at patter and was most amusing. By far his most impressive trick however was his ability to play dead, for some unknown reason he had taught himself to remain perfectly still and could hold a pose for apparently up to one and a half hours at a time, before suddenly unfreezing and shouting "Bwahh!" at us.

There were some little (but as we later discovered quite terrifying) kids staying at the hostel and he took it upon himself to amuse them (and us) with magic trick such as multiplying balls, balls moving hands, etc. He also decided to play dead and for over an hour they abused him, they pulled him off the chair, stood on his bottom and most terrifyingly pulled his legs up to 90 degrees (he was on his back) and rode them. It looked most dodgy but none of us adults could think of a way to easily stop them and anyway, we were too busy laughing. Eventually the kids went to bed and we ignored the magician, he got bored of the fact that he was no longer the centre of attention and soon reanimated. Soon after this I went to bed, and yet again lots of middle aged ladies were snoring at an early hour.

Yesterday was my last full day and I decided to go for a long (10 mile) hike by myself. I left before 9am and a thick fog was covering the ground, this is a regular occurence in California and I assumed it would clear quickly enough, unfortunately it didn't and after hiking the steep 4 miles to Klamath overlook (the view over the estuary of the second biggest river in California) I could hardly see a bloody thing. I could just make out some boats that I think may have been Native American (I was in serious Native American territory, most people I talked to informed me they were a Yurok Indian), but I couldn't tell. So I ended up walking back. I did however see lots of little snakes disappearing into grass at my approach and I heard some Sea Lions, but no, didn't see them either.

On my way back I made a detour to a roadside attraction called "Trees of Mystery" outside there was a big fibreglass lumberjack that talked and a big blue bull (that was disappointingly silent). For a mere $13.50 I could go and see their private redwoods and take a cable car ride above them, or for free I could go to their museum and gift shop, guess what I chose to do! The museum had loads of Native American artifacts but didn't explain much about them, if I was lucky they told me what they were, but not what they did. Most disappointing. The gift shop was even worse, loads of horrible ornaments and boxes made of redwood but no Religious Artifacts or something I might actually want. I walked back to the hostel most disappointed, a day with no view or tacky momento.

Throughout my time at the Redwood hostel I saw a scary number of RVs (or motor home to us English) and they are huge, all your creature comforts come along with you, no need to rough it without a hairdryer or dishwasher. Some even tow big pickup trucks (and boats!) behind them. They frequently pull over to pretty spots such as the beach in front of my hostel and sit inside the RV and take in the view, lots don't even get out unless its for a roadside attraction (there are plenty outside Trees of Mystery). Or take the necessary photo and then leave, they rarely seem to bother actually looking around properly. Its very sad, not the way to see the country at all.

This morning I left very early (7.40am), but almost did not. Magician guy and I phoned the bus company as they requested to tell them to request a pick up and then stood by the side of the highway awaiting the bus. Despite knowing that all we really needed to do was stand there I hailed it, just in case it didn't realise we wanted it. Unfortunately it didn't break and wasn't until I waved my arms madly and jumped up and down that it slammed the breaks on and came to a halt 10 meters from where we were. If we'd have missed that bus we'd have missed the greyhound, which is the only one everyday. Thankfully we were soon seated and went off, elk spotting along the way. The rest of the journey to San Francisco was uneventful, but long. I made the mistake of wearing my new shoes on the journey in an attempt to wear them in and for my troubles managed to earn two big rubs on the back of my feet, which if there was any skin left would turn into lovely big blisters. Flip flops for the next few days for me then.

Mission and drunks

Yesterday I decided to go to an area of San Francisco that is known for its Roman Catholic roots and being a bit dodgy, but I decided that the RCism made it worth it and so went anyway. Lots of Californian cities were founded by RC missionaries, anywhere that is named after a Saint has a fairly good chance of being founded this way. The one in SF has a beautiful Basilica, far nicer than any of the other Cathedrals or Churches I'd come across, it was quite unusual in style, being Mexican influenced. I walked in on a mass and got to witness a very small group of good Catholics going to their daily mass. The priest seemed to know them all well and was laughing and joking with them afterwards which was really nice to see.

Naturally there was a gift shop and I was pleased to discover a range of nun figurines in different poses such as "laughing nun", similar to those hideous teddy bear things you get in England (the ones that come with S and M teddy!). Who buys this crap? Would you actually want a laughing nun in your living room? I sure as hell (or heaven!) wouldn't, I did however take a photo.

After living the actual Mission itself I made my way down to the centre of the area, to Mission St, unfortunately I came in at the dodgy end and had to walk several blocks before old men stopped making catcalls at me, I've found that happen a lot around here and I wish it wouldn't, particularly when I think they're being sarcastic. I'm looking crap at the moment, I left all my best clothes at my apartment and took what I assumed backpackers would wear, old T-shirts, scruffy trousers and trainers. Boy was I wrong, they're all walking around in designer clothes looking trendy. Anyway, I think its easier to take catcalls when you believe they are being serious and not just doing it because your shorts have ridden up and turned into hot pants.

I eventually passed the dodgy end unscathed and was disappointed to see very few shops selling the religious crap that my guidebook had promised. The one or two I did see were shut because it was Labor day (basically a bank holiday for no apparent reason). I then went onto find an alley mentioned in my guidebook that had murals painted on its walls. It was a back street in SF and there were loads, religious, political and just beautiful. There were murals everywhere, on the street, in the cafe where I had my ridiculously cheap lunch (when you're backpacking somewhere like here its often cheaper to eat out), in random places. It really brightens up the neighbourhood, we should do it in Britain, although they'd probably be graffitied by the time the paints dry.

After this I decided to go to Golden Gate bridge (well it had to be done) and so found a convenient bus route and walked to it. Just as I was getting close I saw the bus come and had to run to try and get, naturally I didn't make it, but some weird guy decided to come and lecture me about how you never run for buses, for about 5 minutes. Seriously. This guy came and told me to take life at it comes, that its my life and I can do as I please (so then why can't I run for the bus? I am British after all!). He then proceeded to show me a long scar running down his face and told me that that should teach me a lesson, he failed however to tell me how it related to running for buses. I wasn't given an opportunity to explain myself, to point out that I had no idea when the next bus would come and that I didn't want to be stuck in this neighbourhood for longer than absolutely necessary. Eventually he went away and I breathed a sigh of relief.

On the bus I had to sit next to another weirdo who talked to himself and wore a hard hat backwards. A woman actually moved to get away from him. I thought I'd had my fair share of weird old men for that day, but fate didn't seem to think so. After getting off at the end of the line and deciding that the Golden Gate bridge was too far away and it was too windy I decided to sit down by the marina and watch the boats for a bit. Unfortunately on the next bench along from me was a rather talkative tramp who told me that he hated racial labels, that he wasn't African American but Russian and then the conversation somehow moved on to spying and Gone with the Wind. I excused myself as soon as I could and walked towards the centre of the city.

I next decided to go to Lombard Street billed as the "worlds crookedest street!". After walking up some exceptionally steep hills I finally came to it, from the wrong direction (come from the east so you look up it, not down it). There were tourists everywhere and city workers had to direct the traffic. Heading down it struck me as not very impressive and I couldn't see why that when it was no steeper than other roads in the city they didn't just make it into a normal road, it was wide enough. Its probably because its a tourist trap, and they want to extract every cent from the tourist that they can, bastards.

After a long days walking a headed back to the hostel for an early night. I'm knackered at the moment, it doesn't seem like I can get enough sleep, although I sleep at least 8 hours a night and feel refreshed in the morning I have big bags under my eyes. I think it maybe that getting used to surroundings can be very difficult, like a baby needs to sleep 18 hours a day to take in all this new information perhaps I do to. I'm glad to be leaving SF today, its been fun but I need a more relaxing few days. Hopefully being in the middle of a national park will help do that, there is nothing to do but hike, sleep, hike and read. I can't wait.

Summer of Love 40 years on

Yesterday a massive free concert/festival was put in San Francisco and ex-hippies flocked to it. In the center you could tell fairly easily who was going to the festival, there were plenty of ex-hippies wearing flowers in their hair who had dug out old frayed jeans and shorts that had patches on them, not forgetting the tie-dyed t-shirts. Some of the costumes were most impressive, one guy was dressed as Jimmy Hendrix and there was another in John Lennon glasses, black top hat and and tails, long hair and a stoned expression on his face. There were plenty of famous bands who had supposedly reformed for this event, but I knew none of them (Canned Heat anyone?). The music was good, but it was more the music to sit and get stoned to, not to dance to. Unfortunately a lot of people were dancing, very badly. I think that drugs had a lot to do with it, the scent of weed filled the air, it (and acid) was being sold openly. The attempt to recreate the summer of love was being carried through as far as possible (all be it with the grandkids in tow).

The only real difference was that they were handing out free condoms, the pill will no longer do. I decided to stay well clear of the bushes.

It was a great atmosphere, but I only stayed an hour or so, it was packed and not really my sort of thing. I'm glad I went though.

On the way there on a very crowded bus I witnessed my first Jerry Springer moment. It was caused by the bus driver asking everyone to move back down the bus and was initially a disagreement between passengers about whether there was enough space to do this. The loud argument between a young black girl and a white man got out of control when the black girls mother decided that he was disrespecting her daughter and all hell broke loose. She was the stereotypical angry black woman, repeating phrases loudly, "Who said that? Who said that? I'm coming up! I'm coming up!" They just couldn't let it drop and the white guy refused to apologise the whole bus witnessed their argument and some other people got involved as well. The guy who shouted "shut up!" at her was unfortunately stood by me, so I experienced her rage first hand, however the irritating girl who decided that it was helpful to shout "Jerry! Jerry!" was ignored, I could of bloody strangled her, talk about escalations. I felt so sorry for a tiny Chinese woman who came up my end of the bus to get away from the scary black woman only for the scary black woman to move up to the same end of the bus. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when it was their stop and the exited the bus.

People in America are a lot more confrontational, in England we don't air our grievances in public, just slag them off behind their back. For example at the festival there was very little space to sit down and some hula hoopers were taking up a lot of space, an (American) woman asked (politely) that one of the hula hoopers to move his bag so her family could sit down, however this guy was clearly off his face and rambled on about saving some space for his son. This wasn't a good enough excuse for this woman, "I've got three kids! We just need to sit down, can you please move your bags!" and she tried to forceably move the bag, at which point almost flung himself on it. I was with two other people and sat right next to this whole scene and we offered them our space and vacated it, not only did they not thank us (we were giving them more space than they would've had) they did not use it. I mean for goodness sake! You help someone out and they ignore it, but when it comes to a confrontational argument they leap at the chance. Give me England with our politeness and our not wanting to get in someones way. Actually the Scientologists asked me whether I talked behind people's back, to which I replied, "Of course, it makes life easier", he seemed dead against this idea, clearly it is not the American way.

I'm going to the Mission today, which is a Roman Catholic area of San Francisco, I'm hoping to see lots of weird religious stuff.

Religious Studies geek

I have to admit that whenever I do anywhere at the moment I'm centering it around religion and loving it, my being alone has allowed my true geek to emerge and I get to explore my interests with fear of boring anyone. I saw some amazing stuff on a walking tour I took yesterday.

My tour started in Union Square where there was a Christian band playing, preaching to the crowds. Every other song was secular and there were mini sermons in between. I can't imagine seeing that in the UK, let alone them being met with polite applause, people would either ignore them or hurl abuse, very few would pay any attention.

I then walked through Chinatown trying to buy birthday presents for some people as I went. The weight issue is really annoying, I keep finding things they'd love but that are really heavy. Anyway I was in one such store when I cam across a Magic 8-ball (the things you ask a question to, shake it up and they answer you) in the shape of both Buddha and Jesus! It probably wasn't serious, but i loved it anyway. Unfortunately they were slightly to expensive and really heavy, otherwise I'd have brought the Buddha one for Rhiannon immediately (on the understanding that I could benefit from his wisdom occasionally). Next to Buddha and Jesus was a toy action figure of Jesus that came complete with glow in the dark hands, 5 loaves and 2 fish (although, alas no 5000 to feed) and a jug of water/wine. That was very tempting to buy, he is so light, although I'm not sure he's worth the $10. This decision may well be reversed. I took photos of them, expect them to be added soon (provided I can work out how...).

Next I came to a square where instead of the old men gambling that my guidebook had told me to expect I came across a well organised protest against the Communist party. Apparently the Party are torturing people who practice Falun Gong, a secular practice that involves Tai chi style exercises, compassion, truthfulness and generally being nice. They remove their organs to sell whilst they are still alive and then cremate their bodies. Its horrific and I hadn't heard a single thing about it, despite being relatively good with current affairs. There were speeches in what I assume to be Chinese Mandarin going on and I was pretty much the only white person there. Then a protester came up to me and explained everything a bit better, I was being very supportive of their cause and he asked me if I could be interviewed on Chinese TV, I was a bit taken a back but agreed. They asked me how I'd come across it, what my feelings about it were and whether I thougth the West should get involved (only if the Falun Gong practitioners want our help, we shouldn't go sticking our nose in where it's not wanted, let the people try and sort themselves out first, we don't want a repeat of Iraq). Looks like my chances of getting a Chinese visa just decreased significantly...

I then found myself back near the Scientologists, so brought back my personality test for them to have a look at. According to them I am relatively irresponsible, emotionally withdrawn, aggressive and critical (read bitch), although I'm also fairly happy, active and some other nice traits to. They told me that they can help me fix these nasty traits, all I needed to do was buy their books and follow their teachings. It strikes me that they are a glorified self-help bookstore, they think everyone wants to be fixed and want to make a lot of money out of them whilst they do it. The place was obviously rolling in money, it was so posh and they represented a beautiful, polished veneer - become a Scientologist and you too can be this successful/rich/happy/beautiful/perfect (delete as appropriate). In my mind its everyone's faults and foibles that make them unique and whilst I accept that they were fairly accurate about me I won't accept that it makes them necessarily bad qualities. We're taught to be critically minded at University, to take nothing for granted. I would not call myself irresponsible at all, in fact I'm one of the most responsible people of my age group. Aggressive, yes, but that comes with standing up for your rights and opinions, as long as you're open to other people's views it needn't be a problem. The interview with the guy who did my test was exceptionally personal, "if you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?". "Have you ever done anything you know is wrong?" etc. But I found myself opening up to him (so perhaps I'm not emotionally withdrawn after all). Safe to say that I like myself the way I am and won't be joining the Scientoloists in the foreseeable future.

I stopped off in a few churches and Cathedrals along my walk and was most unimpressed at them, the Americans really need to take a few lessons on Cathedral building from the Europeans. Old Mary's was dark and small, not the glorious large open spaces and beautiful stain glass and artwork that I have come to expect. Although the gift shops were better.

My walk finished at Coit Tower, which is something like 500 ft above sea level and is supposed to afford great views over the city. I was most disappointed, there are only small windows allowing you to see out and there is glass covering them that is dirty, preventing the true colours from coming through. St Mary's tower in Oxford is so much nicer, relaxing with views unimpeded by glass.

Today San Francisco is celebrating the 40th anniversary of the summer of love with a big festival in a park, I'm going along and hope to see some really interesting New Religious Movements (cults) and hippy culture. We'll see.

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.