Ten Minutes Or Less

Moving from country to country is inevitably disorientating. Guidebooks warned me of culture shock like it was an incurable disease. Somehow I’ve managed to get by without too many hassles or worries in that department. This is a skill I have unearthed which is fulfilling yet disillusioning as it’s not exactly something that’s easily transferable in “the real world”.

Nonetheless, I was happy with how far I had come. Landing in America, the last country on my round-the-world adventure, felt like the bubbling euphoria that builds when you catch the first glimpse of the finishing line after running a gruelling race. I’d come so far and am showing no signs of giving up and going home.

One of my favourite moments when entering a new country is airport arrivals. No I’m not going to descend into a Hugh Grant monologue and announce that love actually is all around. It’s specifically the point before I enter the arrivals lounge that makes me chuckle to myself.

Leaving a country, you don’t tend to notice anything out of the ordinary. You've practically embedded yourself within that culture for however many weeks so greetings and announcements have gone from surprising and interesting to commonplace. For instance, flying from Australia felt pretty normal but arriving in Fiji to the brightly coloured and musical welcome was lovely yet I couldn’t help but laugh at the contrast.

This feeling certainly came to the fore as I entered the Air Pacific plane in Fiji to soft Bula welcomes and left the flight with the screechings of Little-Miss-Perky when arriving in Los Angeles. Her voice was already high pitched to begin with but the announcement was quite long winded. I’m surprised her voice box didn’t explode as the woman rounded off each sentence an octave higher.

It was one of many over-the-top elements to America, some expected and some surprising. America does get a bad rap but this was my last country and no matter what happened, I wanted to round off my trip off in the best way possible.

LAX was a pain in the ass. If I had the money, I’d go down the Up in the Air route with the loyalty cards and first class seats. I used to laugh at the OCD composure of George Clooney’s character in that film but now I envy the quick-fire system that money can buy.

This was my first taste of American security and it was bitter. My first instinct was to not look like a bomber but I had been travelling for over 15 hours so my brain was a bit scrambled. 

When asked what was in my carrier bag my mind went blank as I just had a mixture of crap in there to relieve my bursting backpack. The security guard looked me up and down and told me to move to a ridiculously long line at the other side of the room.

It was only when I entered the queue that I realised I was queueing for the same check. Oooo, if you couldn’t keep me from coming into the country I would be doing some serious angry pointing and scary stare-down eye glances right now.

Security mark II didn’t ask me what I was carrying and pointed out the exit which was right where I started. I passed the stupid security man and shone the best smile I could muster. Showing my resilience, I air ticked victory in my favour.

It wasn’t entirely over as I still had to be interrogated about why I was entering the country, how long I was staying, who I was staying with etc etc. Thoroughness is America’s game which is understandable given their history.

Finally I exited with my luggage in search for a bus to Union Station. I wasn’t hanging about as I had a train to catch. I knew in myself that if I stayed in LA for the night, I’d do absolutely nothing as I was beat. Rather than resting, I decided to head straight to San Diego.

For some reason LA had a dozen different bus services with no clear signs for how to pay or even when a bus would be arriving. I knew that I needed to catch a Flyaway Bus but that was it. I saw the words pasted to a concrete over-pass and decided to dump my stuff and just sit and wait. Hopefully someone around here knows what’s happening so I’ll just wait and see.

Most people were stood aimlessly so I grabbed the last seat on the solitary bench. Upon doing so I noticed a western-looking couple next to me. With backpacks by their feet, I was adamant they knew what they were doing and decided, if all else fails, to see what they do and follow suit.

In the broadest of Scouse accents, the boyfriend of the couple turned to me and asked if I knew which bus to catch to get to Union Station. Maybe they were thinking the same thing as me and felt that I probably knew more than they did. I would have loved nothing more than to turn around and wisely navigate us all to the station but instead I just said I didn’t know.

Our mutual disorientation turned out to be a great ice breaker. Laura and John were on the same flight as me and were also heading to San Diego. They hadn’t booked their train ticket yet so I at least had some slither of information to impart as I pre-booked my Amtrak rail journey.

A nameless coach pulled up and people began to stir. Everyone simultaneously bombarded the driver with the same questions. It seems we weren’t the only ones who were clueless.

Laura, John and I boarded the bus and spoke for a while until an American girl sat next to me. I ended up chatting to her for a bit about my plans for America and my previous travels. It was an empty conversation that passed time.

Union Station was not that far away from the airport. I departed the bus with the hopeful intentions of joining Laura and John on the journey to San Diego.

In order to get our luggage from the driver, we had to walk around the corner and purchase a ticket from a bus terminal kiosk. They only accepted cash. Thankfully I had some but John had to dash off to an ATM as they only had a cashcard.

A cheery woman served me and hollered when she heard my accent. The friendly attendant kept me there right up until John had purchased tickets for himself and Laura. By this point the attendant knew my travel history. Astonished, the woman told me that I was very brave and asked that I be careful but added that she loves Brits and wished me all the best. What a lovely woman. Her upbeat nature was infectious.

After exchanging the paper tickets with our luggage, I made my way across to the station with Laura and John. We split up as they queued for tickets and I fed my reservation details into a machine. I asked a nearby staff member if my ticket was flexible or whether I had to board the train with the same departure time as marked on my ticket. I was told I could board any train so I looked for Laura and John to tell them the news.

Unfortunately I couldn’t see them at the ticket desk. Perhaps I’d been ditched. It wouldn’t surprise me. Not that I think I’m a person to be avoided but some people travel with the intentions of not making friends. This is by no means directed at couples alone. I’ve met people all over the world who have the same mindset. I have nothing against that but I’m the exact opposite. It used to infuriate me at first as I’d waste time speaking to people, swapping details and making arrangements with those who had no intentions of following through with their promises. I feel like I’m pretty good at gauging people now and I don’t invest as much in people until we’ve had at least a few conversations or one that’s lasted more than 10 (or so) minutes. It’s a working theory and isn’t perfect. I’d only spoken to Laura and John for less than 10 minutes on the bus so I wouldn’t be hurt or annoyed if they decided to make their own way to San Diego.

There wasn’t much time until the next train was about to depart. I tried to check-in my luggage but it was too late. It was here that I saw Laura and John. Without even thinking I went over and started speaking to them. Oh well, they’re stuck with me now! Whether they wanted me there or not, they didn’t show it. The three hour train ride flew by. We swapped Fiji stories and found out something incredibly random that we had in common. We all love The IT Crowd, a British comedy. Once this revelation surfaced, we spent the duration of the journey quoting all the best bits (which is pretty much the whole show!).

Food on the train was averagely priced which shocked us all. We all laughed at the menu as not only were the calories listed for each item, but all ingredients too. One sandwich had at least 20 items listed underneath it from seasonings to colourings. Sheesh! It brought back memories of my time in Sydney when customers would ask questions about everything that was in a dish.

Having decided what we wanted, John and I set out to find the café area. This was easier said than done. John led the way but we ended up walking around in one giant circle. One couple joked – “Haven’t I seen you before?” Let’s just say we took the scenic route…ahem.

It was worth the trek as the sandwiches looked delicious. They had free cheese and crackers too which John and I took advantage of. Another person who doesn’t show any form of decorum when it comes to freebies, I like it.

Despite the three hour duration of the journey, it felt like things had been cut short. I got off at Old Town whilst Laura and John stayed on a further stop as they were meeting a friend they made whist travelling. I’ve met so many people who end up staying with those they’ve met in other countries. I wish I had that luxury!

None of my phones were working, so I used the payphone to call the hostel. Their website said that they organise free transfers to the hostel. The receptionist told me to get a taxi and they’ll reimburse me upon check-in. I was so happy that I didn’t have to lug my crap on and off multiple buses. In all the excitement, I forgot to tip the taxi driver. Shit. I need to get better at remembering to tip.

For what I paid, the hostel wasn’t the best but it was tolerable. I happened to be put in the room right next to the patio area. The receptionist warned me that it does get loud at night when people start drinking and partying but the area closes at 11pm. I wasn’t fussed as the noise seemed to die down after midnight. Sometimes, if I’m tired enough, I can sleep through a lot.

My room was in fact gross. Having walked across the laminate floor for a few minutes, the soles of my feet were black. The lockers in the room were anorexic. I couldn’t fit my day pack in there they were that slim. I had to empty my bag and put my valuables in. It was a pain in the arse at times as I couldn’t just get up, grab my bag and leave.  Everything had to be loaded and unloaded. With restricted space, it wasn’t the easiest of tasks. Again, it’s a pain but nothing I couldn’t handle. I was in a female only dorm with no snorers or smelly bastards so I was happy.

With next to no internet for two weeks in Fiji, I had a lot to catch up on and organise for my future travels in America. For now, I decided to have a relaxed evening and sort things out the next day. After a 5 hour boat ride, 10 hour flight and 3 hour train ride, I think I deserved a rest.