If you're going to San Francisco...

...Be sure to wear a scarf, gloves, hoodie and any other items of clothing which can help stave off the bloody cold!

So, I write to you from the US of A. My connection in Phoenix was delayed by two hours so I didn't arrive in San Francisco until midnight, by which time the BART (public transport) system was closed. Great. And it was raining. Great. I managed to get to my hostel, "The Green Tortoise" without too much trouble though. I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to stay at a hostel which bills itself as a party-central type place, but in the end I thought that it was better than going somewhere lifeless. The hostel is cool but one, slightly paradoxical, drawback of being really big and having loads of guests is that it is actually harder to meet and get to know fellow travellers, because it is quite impersonal and seems like everyone has formed little cliques.

I went to my room and was surprised to find that everyone was in bed at 1am. I thought this was a 'party' hostel? I try to be as quiet as possible sorting my stuff out, and get pointed to my bed by the only room member still awake. I reach up to the top bunk and chuck my bag onto the heap of bedding, only to find that this 'heap' then stirs and grunts with understandable surprise. Wrong bed. Whoops. So much for trying not to wake anybody up...

The next morning I head down for breakfast at 10:30, only to be told that breakfast stops at 10. Again, I'm a little bit bemused at how a hostel that is so focused on being an epicentre for crazy nights out and parties thinks it's logical to expect guests to rise before 10 in the morning...

As you can tell the American enthusiasm has really rubbed off on me. 

My plan for the day was to head to Fisherman's Wharf, which was really cool. Literally as well... I only had a jumper on and quickly realised the blue sky had lulled me into a false sense of security. I went to the Aquarium but in truth it was disappointing. The Golden Gate Bridge was at least five miles in the distance, but undeterred by the chilly weather, I decided to walk along the front so that I can get a little closer for some good pictures. "Getting a little closer" quickly turned into "getting much closer" and eventually, three hours later "well I may as well cross it now". So I did, and it was awesome. I was ok with looking down into the sea below, but I've realised that looking up really messes with my head. Taking some pictures proved a bit of a challenge for me. I got a bit lost on my way home, and was wandering around suburbia in the dark at 5:30pm with my legs severly aching (I left the hostel at 12 and had been walking non-stop). However, despite only being here for a day, I was already impressed with San Francisco, and felt it was definitely the kind of place I could live. There was some free beer in the hostel that evening so I made the most of it. Two small plastic cuploads and I was bloated and ready to hit the sack, feeling like a true man.

Golden Gate Bridge. And me.

 

This shot took a lot of perseverance and courage

Thursday was Thanksgiving. In Puerto Vallarta I met Teague, who lives in Oakland, and she invited me to a small dinner/party to celebrate. It was a fun evening, highlights included Jed's vegan chocolate chip cookies, finding out that Scott knew the AFI drummer when he was younger, reading a book on the 'Enneagram' and deciding after chapter 1 that I didn't need to read anymore (traits of 'a Perfectionist' include "enjoys making lists" and "is annoyed by poor spelling and grammar". Case closed.) And then there was Brian, a friend of a friend who ended up at the party despite not knowing anyone. In the car on the way to the house, Scott and Teague told me that Brian was into his American Football, so I was looking forward to having a good old chat with him. Unfortunately, Brian turned out to be an appropriate name for him, as it seemed he just fell short of having a brain. Even when it came to his favourite topic, Football, you couldn't really engage in any conversations with him. I would like to meet some American Footballers, but maybe Brian gave me an insight to what they would be like. In which case, maybe it's better that I don't. Here are a few examples, in addition to the fact that he spent 90% of the evening texting or talking on the phone, of the standard 'conversations' we were exposed to:

- "Dolphins gonna win the Super Bowl this year!"
- "Who can throw a football 70 yards? No-one? Well I could when I was at college."
- "My brother is an All-American. My brother is an All-American."
- "I hate the Jets!"
- "Oh god, the Jets score!"
- "I'm gonna call my mom."
- "Do you know how many girls I've slept with in San Francisco?! San Diego?! Las Vegas?!"

He got a little tiring, but then he was also oblivious to the constant mocking from the other guests (I didn't overdo it, but sometimes it was hard not to get involved, especially as he was directing that last quote at me...), so it was also quite entertaining.
 

Today (Saturday) I went to Japan Town (not sure if that's the official name, or if the girl at the reception just mutated the more familiar sounding 'Chinatown'). There wasn't a great deal of character in the area itself, but the Japan Centre was really cool, with traditional shops and loads of restaurants. I sat myself down at one and, unable to break the habit of a lifetime, had Chicken Katsu Curry. Well if it's good at Wasabi and Wagamama, I knew I wouldn't be disappointed in 'Japan Town'. Incidentally, my hostel is close to Chinatown and I have noticed that I haven't seen many 35-year old looking ones.

I was intending to go to the Golden Gate Park afterwards but it was getting late and I didn't really have time, so went back to Union Square for a bit of shopping. Macy's and Westfield were hectic and I didn't like them. The US has an awesome selection of chocolates and sweets (sorry, "candy") though, credit where credit's due. I was like a kid in a... well, in a sweet shop, stood in front of the shelves.

Before I left Mexico I finished another book, Nick Hornby's 'Juliet, Naked', and am nearing the end of 'Emperor: Gates of Rome' at the moment, so went to Borders to see if I could pick up volume two in the series. When I was browsing, I came across a new book in the '501' series, this one being '501 Must-See Cities'. I flicked to the England section to see which ones were recommended and was a bit surprised that Liverpool warranted a double spread. I mean, I know there are a few cool connections there, but generally... from there, I also thought that Manchester, Newcastle and Leeds were quite boring selections. I started to wonder if maybe Southampton, or heaven forbid, Portsmouth might even get a mention. I turned to the final page in the England section and was greeted with this:

Eat your heart out, San Francisco

Yes, I took a picture. It made my bloody day.

Hope that has been an interesting-enough read. When I was in Mexico I used to look forward to posting updates, but I haven't really had the same urge here. Not exactly sure why, perhaps because writing about a big city like this doesn't really seem that different to what many people have experienced quite a lot. San Francisco is a lovely city, but I miss Mexico. When I was there I never really wanted to move on to new places, whereas here, as much as I like San Francisco, I end up thinking about, and looking forward to being in England again. Perhaps because of the language, the weather and the culture, it all seems so similar to back home. Anyway, I'm still enjoying myself, so that's the main thing.

Twig