Rolling With The Tourists

There was a time when I used to get up early and head straight out to experience as much as I could. The only time I would rest was when I sat down on a bus or train. My surroundings fuelled me and I never seemed to tire. In America, I grew lazy and complacent. I'd already done so much, it felt like my body and mind was ready to give up. I floated along, pushed by passing friends and circumstance. Perhaps I didn't tick off all the boxes on a generic travel website's top 50 must-dos but I had a damn good time. The scales definitely tipped towards letting go and seeing what happened rather than a forced cultural experience. Anyone can get a bus to an ageing building and take a photo. It might look impressive on Facebook but is there really a story behind that?

Each country seems to have taught me something. Japan was definitely confidence and social awareness having pushed myself in the deep end. I entered a country where not too many people openly spoke English and the majority of backpackers there were couples or impenetrable packs. I really had to seek out the solo travellers. I made some great friends but it also helped me be comfortable in my own skin. That's something I've not felt in a very long time. The rest of SE Asia was more of the same as I was still at the early stages of my trip.

Australia was an eye-opening experience. Don't believe the bullshit that goes around. It's funny what people say and what actually happens. Australia was the Marmite of my RTW trip. It's a place you either love or hate. I've made peace with my time in Australia but I know to take people's travel opinions with a pinch of salt as one man's paradise is another man's hell. I did leave with two very strong friendships. Mel and Steff have made me a better person. It's rare to find people who tell it straight. I always know where to get my tough love from.

New Zealand reinforced my repulsion of forced socialisation but opened my eyes to true natural beauty. I learned how to break things down and process them with a laid back ease. It's hard to describe but I used to be the kind of person that stresses about truly insignificant details. These tiny 'problems' would build and build until my inevitable crumble. I'd put so much pressure on myself. Who knew all I had to do was hurl myself out of a plane, off a canyon or down a ski slope to overcome it all. Sometimes things aren't as bad as you think. All you need to do is step back, take a breath and leap. There are times when you succeed and times when you fail. If you're lucky, it's something you can control and understand but sometimes shit really does happen. Putting all your time and energy in focusing on all the seemingly bad stuff that's around you will generally make you feel crap. So flip it over and focus on the good. Sounds so simple when you say it like that but it's true.

A lot of positive things have happened to me and I truly believe it's because I've learnt to see the good things and forget about the bad. Nobody likes a Debbie Downer (good ol' SNL).

Fiji certainly amplified my relaxed approach to things. Everything runs on Fiji-time there so you have to have a heck of a lot of patience, or generally just to not be bothered what happens. "If I get there, I get there. If I don't, I don't. It's ok, don't worry. Beeee happpyyyy." I think that's their motto in life.

Now it's over to America...what do you have for me?

*****

Daylight quietly crept in through the blinds and gently stroked me awake. A peaceful night's sleep meant that I awoke with a relaxed sigh. No snorers, no smelly people, no angry dope-heads...just me and a collection of Andy's keepsakes neatly organised at various points in the room. A book case full of writing aids and classic favourites - I later learnt that Andy is part of a writing group who meet and trade hints and tips. A music stand and sheets stood to attention next to a cello. Did Andy play or was this an antique? I lay for a moment taking everything in.

One final stretch and it was time to move, I can't spend all day in bed...as tempting as that was. I quickly and quietly showered and changed. I wasn't sure if Andy was awake. Another thing I also learnt about my host is that he doesn't like being woken up early. He asked that if I were to get up early and leave in the morning, to take care not to make too much noise. I assured him that there was no chance of me getting up early. Unless Andy constitutes early as 9am. I still think I'm the only person who classes this as early, for most people that's a lie-in!

Andy had left out a few guide books and a couple of maps to peruse at my leisure which was sweet. I flicked through and picked out a few points of interest. I loosely plotted out my day, making sure that I didn't pile my plate too high. I have a lot of time to play with so there was no need to pack everything in. I was very much up for taking casual strolls rather than booking open top bus tours or day trips. On the other hand, I did have a mammoth task at hand, I was hoping to visit Alcatraz. I tried booking a ticket a few weeks beforehand but they had already sold out. I'd been told that tour companies buy up a bulk of tickets for their day packages. When these aren't sold, they release them back to the Alcatraz ticket office. This was my only shot. With this in mind I decided to head out to the piers.

Let's not jump too far ahead, I needed something to eat. Andy had kindly offered to cook me some breakfast. This was very much unexpected. I assumed I was fending for myself. I joined Andy for some eggs and toast. Somehow Andy had managed to construct the perfect omelette. I don't necessarily mean by taste, although it was yummy, but the omelette itself was a perfect circle. I remember the last time I tried to make an omelette but gave up part way through and pretended that I wanted to make scrambled egg all along. I'm sure to most people it's not that difficult to make but I did look at it in awe. Most of my breakfasts are eaten on the go or are whatever is offered at the hostel - usually fruit and toast. Very rarely do I get a proper cooked breakfast. It's funny the small things that I class as a luxury. An omelette is luxury I tell you!

After a reasonable amount of time had passed (I didn't want to seem rude and eat-and-dash), I left Andy to his day. I had the bus system to tackle. It does surprise me that each place I've visited in America has had a different way of doings things in regards to buses. I only used the bus once in LA, but it was a lengthy trip for less than a dollar. San Diego was an easy $5 for unlimited journeys for one day. In San Fran it's a bit more pricey. It's $2 per trip no matter the length. If you keep your ticket, it is valid for the next couple of hours if you need to transfer. If you time it well and it's only a quick journey, you could get a return out of it. No such luck for me today.

One thing is for sure, you have to have the correct change. Don't EVER board a bus in America and stick a note higher than a dollar in their machine as you won't see the change. I only saw one poor guy do it but he only put in $5. It could have been a lot worse. The bus drivers aren't very sympathetic. That seems very familiar. Bus drivers in England seem to have a chip on their shoulder. With us, they're not that strict on what cash you hand over but I would tread very carefully if you hand over a note. I hated the days I had to go on the bus with a ten pound note. Handing that over is the equivalent of taking a well placed shit in their hands. Seriously. You'll either get a death stare or attitude. Not to pigeon-hole all bus drivers in England, I've met plenty of nice ones, but the cash issue is a definite bug-bear. I bet they'd love to roll out America's policy of only accepting exact change. Knowing us Brits, there'd be a definite backlash. That's too big a change for us to handle.

The perks of being a backpacker...a poor lowly backpacker, is that I had plenty of one dollar notes. I didn't even have any issues in navigating myself on the bus route. I have my trusty map to thank for that. It's still going strong from yesterday when meeting Ulas. As well as street names, it has the different coloured and numbered bus routes on. Wonderful.

As there was no reason for rushing, I paused every now and then as I walked to the bus stop. I took in my surroundings and admired the architecture of the passing houses that stared down at me. I would never do such a thing in my hometown. There are plenty of old buildings in York, but houses are pretty much the same where I live. The houses in San Fran are a bit more interesting to look at.

With so much to do in San Fran, I really was spoilt for choice. I decided to do some of the obvious tourist things first. Pier 39 is a shining beacon for tourists so that seemed like as good a place as any to begin. I stood and stared at the sea lions for a bit but actually found more entertainment in watching people gawp at them, taking several photos. Hoards of people were bunched together collectively staring at a marine creature lolling on a rock. Dolphin and whale watching I can understand as they peep above the surface of the sea and you may see a glimpse of a stray fin or blowhole. If you're lucky, you'll see jumps and flips.

Sea lions just kind of lie there. I grew up watching Andre the sea lion but he's a one off. None of them blew raspberries or waved at me. Man, I love that film. It's pretty much like Fly Away Home but with a sea lion instead of a flock of geese. It's a classic.

Anyway, so I'd walked along a few of the piers, admired the views and saw sea lions. I didn't hang around for long. It was too crowded for my liking. I managed to find a clearing near the aquarium. A stand was pitched up outside and a couple of employees were holding a competition. It was free to enter and there was a chance to get a free ticket to the aquarium, a free t-shirt or a ticket to see a 3D show.

It was my turn. I was asked a sea-related question. I just about managed to answer it unassisted. Phew, dignity intact. I spun the wheel to decide my prize. A ticket to the 3D show, ah well, it's something. It was still early on in the day so I decided to check it out. I'm not one to pass up a freebie.

A woman handed me my 3D glasses and I walked into the auditorium. I was the first one in. A few minutes later I was surrounded by kids. Ah crap. I was hoping for some Jaws 3D crazy-scary-shit but I think I was getting Finding Nemo. The show started and I was almost asleep by the end. Luckily it was only a short showing. I made a speedy exit before the lights turned back on. This is what happens when you get to the point in life where you can't refuse free things. I am a true bodger as my friend Mel would put it.

Moving on from that embarrassment, I found the ticket stand for Alcatraz. I spoke to the desk attendant who informed me that there were no tickets left for the day. I thought as much, so enquired about how early I need to arrive in order to get a day ticket...
Sorry I just picked my jaw up off the floor. Although the ticket kiosk opens at 7 or 7:30am, people (I use that term loosely) start queueing from 5am or even earlier. I guess this is America's version of the Next clearance sale in England. Deck chairs and thermal flasks at the ready...I think not. No offence Alcatraz, but I don't have the impetus for that kind of effort. Another time perhaps and I'll be sure to book ridiculously early. Never underestimate the insane organisation skills of a tourist, lesson learned.

Right tourists, where next? I walked along absent-mindedly looking for inspiration when I saw a hustler. A real live American hustler. Tourists were lapping it up. He had three cups, you needed to find the ball. Easy right? One woman lost $200...so that's a no. I couldn't help but laugh. Who needs a job in America when you can earn a day's wage in a few minutes by duping mental tourists. I swiftly moved on.

Meet the gullible crowd and the 'magician'

From one insane observation to another - Lombard Street. Some of you may be nodding in recognition, others will be puzzled. Lombard Street is a wiggly road that kinda looks funny in photos. I had to see for myself.

There's not too much to see from the base of the street but as you move closer, what first appeared to be rows of hedges in fact break-away to reveal a road.

Wiggle wiggle

Photos do not give this road justice in how steep it is. I ventured up the steps and needed a break half-way up. Young kids bypassed me skipping and jumping...pfft. There was a time when I used to skip and jump, now I just waddle breathlessly like a penguin on 20-a-day.

Reaching the top of the giant hill-of-a-road, I was greeted by swarms of camera-equipped street enthusiasts. Forget trainspotters, I guess in San Fran you have Streetspotters. They're a lot more exciting than trainspotters. Trainspotters are predominantly male and can be found muttering into a teeny tiny notepad and the most technological these guys get is donning a dictaphone (tied around the neck for easy access). They tend to congregate on a specific platform and rarely move. Shuffling back and forth, perhaps leaning in for a closer inspection of a carriage to note down a series of relevant numbers, is as much movement as you'll get from these folk.

Streetspotters on the other hand are insane. They have no qualms in standing in the middle of roads, disregarding moving traffic and contorting themselves into necessary positions to capture the right angle. Some choose to set up tripods but many adventurous types love exploring different sides of the road to make sure that nothing gets in the way of taking that perfect photo. Don't be surprised if queues are formed around the most popular spots to take photos.

A general passer-by would probably assume Britney Spears was on that street, but no. It's a wiggly street and you don't get those nowadays. We just have those regular straight ones or some with a slight curve in, nothing too extreme.

This kind of behaviour probably didn't happen 15 or 20 years ago when most people carried around disposable cameras. Remember those? You had to put all your faith in that tiny plastic box as all you had was a viewfinder and a flash. Oh and less than 30 exposures. I bet most people took one or two photos and were happy. Today, you have limitless photography and a handy delete button. You can preview the photos you've taken and decide whether you have the perfect photograph. I mainly remember the days when I put in a camera for development and picking up the photos only to find that most of them were terrible. Blurry, odd angles and even the dreaded finger-over-lens corrupted my photo collection. I wasn't going to win any awards let's put it that way. Instead, I currently have a good few thousand photos sitting on my laptop waiting to be tweaked and uploaded at some point. I'm probably no better off really given that I have no idea when I'll get around to doing that!

Climbing up the wiggly street was all rather challenging. I needed something pretty hefty to make up for such an exertion. I gorged on a massive sandwich and made one stop before I headed back to Andy's.

Telegraph Hill was a great viewpoint. I took a few snaps and rested to reflect on my day. I'd managed to cover quite a few tourist stops at the piers and a couple of points-of-interest. I mainly walked everywhere so I'd be interested in trying one of the many modes of transport in San Fran.

The rest of the evening was spent chatting to Andy, eating the best pizza ever (Little Star - try it, you won't be disappointed), watching Traffic (the film) and eating cheesecake. That last one was a mighty effort. The pizza was incredible but it was also deep dish and man it was deeeeep. Phew. I hoped it was a taste of what was to come in Chicago. I can never refuse cake though. I still enjoyed it but could barely move afterwards. Luckily Andy has a spacious apartment so rolling from room to room wasn't a problem. By the end of the night though it transcended into weak crawls until I admitted defeat and splayed myself atop my inflatable bed. Very rock-n-roll OD'ing on pizza and cake, what a night!

Land Of The Free, Home Of The Brave

Have you ever had that sweeping feeling of pure contentment? It could occur during the mightiest or diminutive of tasks. Kissing someone you truly love, hugging your child, realising who your real friends are, conquering that long jogging route you usually dodge, heck even eating a damn fine burger can awash your senses with pure joy. I guess it depends how you see the world as it can be so easy to get bogged down with the big stuff. Concentrating on what you don't have, what everyone else around you has and thinking "What the heck am I doing!?" I used to feel like that every day. I still do get the occasional day where I feel lost and overwhelmed with all the life choices that dangle in front of me. Then I think about what I was doing last year and I can't help but smile.

"Wow, I really did that," is my main thought. I still can't believe it! Me! The young girl who used to follow people around and mould myself into something I thought I should be. Over the years I've come out of my shell, for want of a better turn of phrase. My confidence has grown and I've enjoyed my independence. Travel has propelled me even further into this journey of self-assurance. I strangely feel like I can do anything now if I work hard enough.

There has been an element of skill, organisation and level-headedness to travelling successfully. By that I mean seeing great things, meeting awesome people and seeing the real face of a country, not just the tourist trail. All this and, ya know, not dying. It sounds crazy but there is a very serious element of vulnerability that comes with travel and I did it on my lonesome. I didn't update my mother every day of my whereabouts so anything could have happened and nobody would know...anyway, let's not dwell on that!

Off the top of my head, I've had three close calls which isn't so bad in 16 months really. But I will say this, I have been one lucky so-and-so. Dodging the creepy caped dude for one, but all the opportunities I've had and the lovely people I've met along the way has astonished me. I was pretty lucky in Japan where I somehow managed to spend less than half my budget, a fluke I don't think I'll ever be able to replicate unfortunately. But I think America even tops that but that will all become clear over time.

My first stroke of luck came with the fact that I managed to organise not one, but three hosts in one of the busiest hotspots for couchsurfing. San Francisco is the birthplace of couchsurfing after all so naturally everyone thinks they'll find a place. The problem is, potential hosts are bombarded with requests and who has the time to sit through profile after profile trying to figure out if a surfer is a weirdo. I made sure my message stood out but I sent that many I forget what I wrote. Some desperate ramblings I'm sure but I did always mention something that featured on their profile, that usually goes down well. Thankfully I didn't make any grandiose promises like cooking a feast or buying booze. I can't cook and I'm a poor backpacker, it aint gonna happen! Somehow, I got by on my charming personality...ahem...

*****

My alarm jolted me awake unforgivably. I rolled over and almost smothered myself in the mountain of dry but over-washed clothes I haphazardly piled on top of my suitcase the night before. Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Ah crap, I need to pack. 

Although it wasn't exactly the crack of dawn, everyone else was still asleep. Lucky gits. Our room was facing another building so there was no natural light, I needed to work in the dark. Arse. My piddly head torch could not cut it. For getting to the bathroom and back or grabbing belongings, yes, but packing a full case, hell no! 

Laura stirred and asked what time it was. Oh joy, she was an early riser. My logic was, Laura was up, the guy above stumbled in and shook my bed in the early hours. By that, I mean he jumped onto the top bunk and fidgeted. He didn't stand over me physically shaking the bed frame nor was that a euphemism for the all to real antics that unfold in shared dorms. He must be worn out from all that activity and the other guy is some weird stealth backpacker who miraculously stays in bed all day. To put it bluntly, I didn't give a shit. Half of the room was up so the light was going on. You need to learn when to be assertive in dorms. I used to be so timid to my own detriment at times. In the end, people need to understand that everyone is working at different paces. It means that people come in late and others wake up early, you just have to deal with it so never feel like you're entitled to peace and quiet all the time. If you're that bothered, you should pay extra for a private room. Of course, I'm not saying have parties, scream in the early hours or have a loud Skype conversation at 5am. I get frustrated when people snore too even though it's not their fault...well it is...It's all fun and games really!

My tough act soon petered out after fidget-bod above me did NOT like the light being turned on. I got a monosyllabic tirade of expletives, oh how pleasant. I chuckled to myself as I started packing, someone needs to man up. My smile was firmly wiped off my face when this guy catapulted himself out of bed and landed right by my side. The sound alone gave me a fright. This was the same cheery gentleman who helped me snap my padlock the previous night. A familiar waft cascaded down and met my nostrils with a firm salute. Uh-oh, this is the weed guy. 

My ears received another verbal battering but that's as far as it went. Luckily I didn't have to break out some heavy martial arts moves. I've watched Karate Kid - wax on and wax off - piece of cake. He could have got seriously hurt, stupid man. I regaled the whole story to Laura and we both laughed uneasily. I refrained from telling Laura my skills of karate, the fewer people know the better. I recommended Laura change rooms as soon as possible though as nobody should have to feel like that.

It didn't take me long to pack my bag and I checked out. I left my luggage at the hostel for most of the day as I'd arranged to see an old friend. The last time I met this person was many months ago in the first country I visited, Japan. Out of sheer madness, we agreed to meet at the busiest train station in Japan (and the world for that matter!). The poor guy thought I was exaggerating when I explained how I have no sense of direction and am pretty useless. Most people do as who would be mental enough to travel the world solo when they can barely navigate themselves around their local town, never mind a foreign land. That would be me! I'm full of tricks like that.

It seemed we were a perfect match, me with my maddening lack of direction and him with his limitless patience. Hours after our initial meeting time, we finally saw each other. Most people would have given up after ten minutes but not Ulas. I'm very glad for it as I made a good friend who I am still in contact with. It's what constantly baffles me to this day. The amount of people that you meet whilst travelling that you may only talk to for a seemingly minute time can wind up becoming life-long friends. From a young age you're encouraged NOT to speak to strangers and take any form of kindness and flattery from someone unfamiliar with stark scepticism. It's weird but you kind of get sucked into a world where agreeing to meet a stranger for coffee is commonplace and any act of kindness is cherished when you're in a place you can just about pick out on a map unassisted.

This time I knew where I was going. I picked up a clear map with street names and everything (a rarity whilst on the road, trust me) from the hostel. I got off the bus on the correct street...I was just on the opposite end of where I needed to be. Arse.

Ok, yes, a lot of the built-up areas in America run on a grid system which everyone hails as a lifesaver for those who easily get lost. It does help that they have worded street names juxtaposed to numbered street names. Although I do prefer the slight ignorance of not knowing how far away I am to my final destination - knowing I'm on 2nd Avenue when I need to be on 18th Avenue is just torturous, Before, I used to wander around aimlessly and stumble upon where I was supposed to be. The sheer delight and relief of finding the place erased the hardship of the journey that had befallen. No such luck in America, ha!

Anyhow, I wasn't that far away and I only ended up being 30 minutes late. That's good for me! Ulas was prepared for this and asked me to text him when I was there and he'd come down. It saves him standing around looking out for someone that might not ever show up! Oh yes, and having a phone was a luxury I never had in Japan. Things are so much easier now I can actually confirm with people how late I'll be rather than them hanging around. Back home, I used to always be early or turn up right on time so even if people turned up a few minutes later, it'd look like I'd been waiting longer than I had. I even marked it against my name when I imagined what I'd say in a job interview - "Honest, reliable and punctual." Well, I'm still one of those things now! Oh dear, how things have changed.

After texting Ulas, I quickly readjusted my hair and tried in vain to wipe the sweat off of my face (lovely right?). I'm still not used to the heat and I had walked a fair distance, my fitness levels are still shockingly poor. But it felt like some of the thick beads clinging to my brow were from nerves. I have no idea why. I have nothing to be afraid of!

Ulas and a few of his friends from work greeted me and we searched for a nearby eatery. The main thing that I can remember was my Cypriot friend saying how my appearance was surprising...he thought I'd be fatter. Well...thanks. From my blogs and him witnessing me stuffing my face, he naturally assumed that I'd be the size of a dump truck. I shall take that as a compliment, thank you!

For old time's sake, we had sushi. I had no idea what to pick as everything sounded delicious so I repeated what someone else was having. Everyone chose a set menu so I didn't look like a copycat. I had a mild panic at the realisation that my chopstick skills are back down to basic as I'd mainly been eating foods I can pick up with my hands. Not to worry though  as one of Ulas' colleagues absent-mindedly picked up his iPhone with a pair of chopsticks. There was no strict etiquette here apparently.

Conversation flowed freely and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. The food was exceptionally good. We didn't stay for dessert although I could have polished off a sizable wedge of cake. Speaking of cakes, one of Ulas' friends was celebrating her birthday today. Something I happened to bring up as we passed a cake shop. I joked to Ulas that he should buy his friend Jacky a birthday cake as people normally get in a cake for someone's birthday in the office. As if hypnotised, Ulas stopped, turned around and walked into the cake shop. Wait...wait...ok, I think you should give me a thousand dollars...damn, I had to say cake first.

Ulas didn't just buy any cake, he bought a massive chocolate cake that looked like it descended from heaven. It glowed and sparkled like an orb of pure happiness. Today is a good day. Any day is a good day when cake is involved of course.

We went back to where Ulas works. His office had a laid back atmosphere to it and I wasn't cast out as an intruder despite my hobo appearance. It could also be down to the fact that we had cake, something I couldn't keep my mind off of. As Ulas showed me around and explained a bit about what he does, all I could think about was that cake. I did get slightly sidetracked by the snack shelves and fridges. An office with free food and drink, where do I sign up?

Time ticked on by and still no cake. There is seriously something wrong with me. This is not my cake, I didn't buy it and it's not my birthday. But it's chocolate cake, heavenly, moist, quadruple layered, fluffy, perfect...GIMME CAAAAAKE! I went to the restroom to pull myself together. It's just a cake, I can do this. I said this internally, I haven't got to the point in my life where I talk to myself in the mirror. Plus, there was someone in the room. I'm not Jim Carrey!

My pep talk was pointless as I felt the words coming out before I could stop them...I mentioned the cake. Ulas, just kick me out now. But instead, Ulas stood to attention and marched off on a mission to find a knife. To cut the cake, not murder someone. I only use my powers for good.

Word spread throughout the office and people started to gather around the cake. Nobody seemed to know what was going on, but they saw cake and that's all that mattered. Aha, it's not just me who is guided by cake. I think this is a general office rule.

Despite the sparkling candles failing, Jacky was very happy with her cake. Who can blame her? I made sure I didn't get the first piece so I didn't look like a complete cake hound. I lingered with my first bite and just stared at this perfect creation. I sighed, knowing full well that in a few moments there will be no cake. Wow, it tasted just as good as it looked.

As soon as the cake had gone, the crowd dispersed and we went back to our lives. I followed Ulas and his colleagues to a small office. They had a brief meeting where I understood nothing. It was a jumble of buzzwords decorated with conjunctions that filtered through as if I was listening to broken English. Debates and challenges were made and problems were possibly solved or side-tracked, I had no clue. At some point things calmed down and attention was drawn to me. Somehow we got to talking about San Fran, the tourist hotspots and the dodgy areas to avoid. I was scared slightly at the serious tone in everyone's voice. I'm not the kind of person who would walk down a shady alleyway but these guys were pointing out streets amongst ones that I'd already walked down. Surely I would have noticed those dangerous areas. The fact that I didn't worried me, what if they look like ordinary streets and then suddenly a knife-wielding maniac walks out of a house and starts chasing me. This is America, anything can happen here. I've survived this long, I'll be fine...*gulp*

It was time to go. I left with loose plans to meet Ulas again before I left. We were both very busy so who knew. Now I had a phone, I felt confident that we'd see each other once more before I left. The time had come to meet my first host.

Although the house I was staying at was a fair distance away from the hostel, I decided to walk there as I didn't fancy lugging all my crap onto the bus. I cut across a couple of districts, one being Tenderloin. This happened to be a place I was told to avoid. It was daylight and there was plenty of innocuous people milling about so I felt safe. There was a guy in a suit pulling a businessman's luggage case***. He didn't look murderous. Yes, everything's fine. I did see why this place was deemed avoidable. It looked run down and there were a few dodgy faces but I just looked straight ahead and kept walking.

Stopping at a crossing, I waited for the lights to change. A guy greeted me and started to talk to me. He could tell I was a visitor what with all my luggage. It doesn't take Sherlock to figure that out! He was polite and asked me what I thought of San Francisco so far. The conversation went back and forth a couple of times when the lights changed. At this point I thought I heard the guy say he really liked the look of me, the eyebrow arch and slight leer aligned with my assumption. Then he said he wanted to spank me and power-walked off. I guess he didn't want to hang around to find out my answer. It could have been his lucky day...it wouldn't have been of course, but one day he might be pleasantly surprised. There might be a girl out there who would love nothing more than a stranger to offer his heavy-handed services. What with all that 50-Shades hype going around, it would not surprise me. Some people offer to buy a drink, some gently nudge forward their phone number and others cut to the chase and reveal their desires.

A few more blocks later - ha, get me speaking the lingo. Not streets, it's blocks now I'll have you know - and I arrived at Andy's house. I timed it perfectly as Andy had just pulled up on his motorcycle. He figured out who I was straight away and I recognised him from his profile photo. It's good to know he is who he says he is. That's a good sign.

Andy helped me carry my things to his apartment. Lucky for the both of us that he lives on the first floor so we only had to tackle one flight of stairs. I was given a brief tour of his place (I say tour, there was only around 3 rooms) and then we had a a good chat. Andy understood this was my first time couchsurfing through the website so he explained a bit about how it works for him. He was very trusting in that he gave me a spare key so I could come and go as I pleased. He said that he tends to go out during the day and work late at night as he works from home. He was friendly but at the same time very clear with how things worked within his home which is completely understandable. I'd much prefer to know how things worked so I don't offend him. I've been to plenty of houses where the occupants don't mind if people walk in and around the house in their shoes and I've been given stern warnings from others who think it's rude not to leave shoes by the door. I instinctively do it now as I learned my lesson! I understood that I was entering somebody else's space and I needed to respect that.

There was a point when I didn't think anyone would want to host me. I sent out so many messages to people without a response. Andy actually sent me an invite. After I sent my first message out, I also posted an ad to the website so other hosts could message me if they had room for me. Andy said he received an email with a few profiles and picked me out as he saw a few similarities in my perspective on life and felt that I was starting a journey that he was all too familiar with. I was a bit reluctant at first as there is a bit of an age gap between us but he had great references and we had a few travelled countries in common.

Once I'd organised my belongings and settled in, it was time to eat. I'd arrived at Andy's quite late in the day. I wasn't hungry at all, in fact I felt a little unwell. Andy offered me a variety of food options and I felt so awkward as the thought of eating anything just turned my stomach more. I am very odd in that there are times when I can eat an enormous amounts of food and feel like a big fatty and then there are other times when the thought of eating a biscuit repulses me. This probably stems from my fussy eating as a child. My mum broke me down eventually.

Feeling lethargic, I didn't feel like doing much. Andy made a herbal tea to settle my stomach and served a series of snacks as we watched Speed. Classic. As well as our love for travel, we also have an equal affection for films. In this case, it was a movie. Yes, in America blockbusters and fluffy chick flicks are called movies and your 'serious stuff' like The King's Speech are called films. See, I'm learning new things every day.

Speed made me feel a lot better...the movie of course. The night had escaped us and it was time to set up my bed. An electric pump brought a cushion of plastic to life. I had a huge air-bed to stretch out on and plenty of blankets. Even though I was sleeping in someone's living room, it felt like I had privacy - something I'd been missing for a long time. All this, and it didn't cost a penny.

*** Disclaimer: This is by no means an assumption that all businessmen are not capable of murder or violent crimes. People who kill come in all shapes and sizes and disguises.