Good Things Come To Those Who Ride

On a typical morning, I'd get up at my own pace. Unless I had something booked and paid for, I used to plod. I hate rushing in general but found that the further into my travels I got, the more laid back I became.

This particular morning I did have a sense of urgency. I was meeting Nathan to go out for a ride with him on his motorcycle. I still felt bad about messing him around when I first stayed at his place. I was incredibly ditzy and got lost on the bus system. I didn't want to make the same mistake again.

Speaking of ditzy, my first hurdle of getting ready proved a bit trickier than I anticipated. I wanted to have a shower before heading out. The toilet was in a separate room and the shower stood in a door-less cubicle in the kitchen. So I'm supposed to shower with everything on view whilst my hosts cook breakfast...my morning-brain could not fathom this. The logical thing to do was ask, but I didn't want to offend nor did I want to be laughed at.

Hoping that my brain would catch up, I gathered my things and made my way to the shower. I didn't have to announce this as I only had two directions to go in the flat - outside, or the kitchen. Tom glanced at my towel and clocked on to where I was heading. Thankfully he wasn't the kind of person to sit back and watch me struggle and explained that the door to the kitchen is also the door to the shower. I nodded, still confused.

This is like the three seashells in Demolition Man. Has everyone else used a kitchen shower but me? By fluke, I figured out the puzzle. I pulled the door towards me once I was in the shower and it snapped shut through a magnetic element in the side. I was still fully clothed so it wasn't a complete win. After a bit of hokey cokey, I had a successful shower.

With one victory under my belt before breakfast, I felt confident that I'd find my way to Nathan's place without inadvertently taking the scenic route. Don't worry, you're not the only one who must have scoffed at this thought as I ended up arriving slightly early and Nathan was still in the shower! Nobody has faith in me these days ey!?

Once Nathan was ready we headed out for breakfast. Yet another tasty bagel with the addition of an indulgent caramel latte. Fuelled and raring to go, it was time to tick off a bucket list experience. Riding on the back of a motorcycle was not something I'd ever imagined doing in my life. But staying with someone who happens own one, well I'd be an idiot not to ask for a ride!

Suited up and helmet in tow, I was ready for my next adventure. Getting onto the bike was a bit awkward and certainly wasn't graceful. I plonked my weight on a little too haphazardly and Nathan almost dropped the bike. I never have been very light on my feet!

Motorcycle passenger etiquette wasn't something I was well versed in. I had the choice of gripping the edges of the seat behind me, or linking my arms around Nathan's waist. My balance is terrible and I certainly wouldn't feel comfortable reaching behind me so I opted for the latter. In fact, it was more of a bear hug with the thought that if I'm falling off this thing, you're coming with me!

Unexpectedly, the ride was smooth and I had no butterflies nor did I feel like I was about to projectile vomit my breakfast from nerves/fear. I felt amazing! We zoomed through the hilly districts of San Fran up to and across the Golden Gate Bridge. I couldn't believe my luck. I'd walked and cycled over the bridge but meandering through traffic was a totally different and exhilarating experience.

Next up was Muir Woods, a towering redwood forest. It was great to escape from the city-chaos and take in this natural wonder. Nathan and I walked the main trail along with a moderate stream of tourists. This was probably the longest concentrated period of time that I'd spent with Nathan. We had a good chat about life, travel and relationships. It was nice to speak to someone who's had a lot of life experience.

Watching the sunlight peer through the trees was a beautiful sight

Me and a big-ass redwood tree

The trail wasn't too packed which made for a nice photo

From Muir Woods, we moved on to Muir Beach. Although it was a nice place to visit, we didn't hang around for too long. Firstly, we had our cycle gear on and nothing vaguely beach-related with us but mainly because we were hank marvin'! We turned up, took a couple of photos, walked along the beach for a bit and took off.

Food is always a priority in my eyes and I've seen dozens of beaches on my travels so it wasn't anything new to me.

Nathan discovered a sweet Irish pub that served proper pub-grub. I ordered a dish which was served with wedges. That must be something hot and potato based. It's silly I know but I keep forgetting that chips are crisps. I know of course that fries are chips and now I discovered that wedges in America are what I'd call homemade chips in England - thick chips with skin on. The food was delicious and was washed down with a crisp cider.

At this point I thought Nathan would be sick of me by now but he showed no signs of tiring. We got back on the bike and zipped about for a bit longer. We found a great spot for some posey photos.

All good things must come to an end. My legs were starting to cramp up so I couldn't hold out for much longer anyway. To end on a high note, Nathan stormed it by hitting over 100kph at certain points. I bloody loved it! All these adrenalin-inducing acts I've completed (sky dive etc) has got me hooked.

My legs had locked and I thought I'd need a winch to get me off the bike. I slumped on Nathan's sofa with no plans to move anytime soon. Soon after, Nathan invited me to a party him and his girlfriend were attending. I text my hosts but disappointingly I was locked out until after 11pm. I couldn't get to my things or have time to even find somewhere to buy something to wear. Sadly I had to pass. Couchsurfing can have its drawbacks and today was an example. Although I was gutted to miss the party, I still had a fantastic day.

I text Tom and met up with him instead. He was out with one of his friends called Dan. It didn't take long for the evening to turn sour. Dan was a complete dick. I'm sorry, I'm not going to sugar-coat it. He judged everything that I uttered and before long I just let them do the talking. Dan is a journalist who works in Thailand. He got his job through a friend or family member (I can't remember which) yet didn't hesitate in telling me what I should be doing and where I should be working. Oh and everything nice that a guy has done for me, including Nathan's help today, is only because I'm a girl. So a guy wouldn't do something nice for another guy?

That was enough cynicism for the evening. Tom and I headed back for my last night at Ryan & Maria's place. I decided to spend my last two nights back at Andy's where I planned to pack in as much as I could before departing for Chicago.

Meet & Greet...With Cake Too!

From Central San Fran, I travelled west towards Outer Sunset to meet my new hosts. After staying with two single guys, I decided to mix things up a bit and stay with a couple. Although I didn't specifically go out looking to stay with a couple, it was a luck of the draw if you will, after sending out a shed-load of requests. There's no shortage of hosts within San Fran, but with that comes plenty of requests. I had stiff competition. I was surprised I managed to find one host, never mind three!

It wasn't too long a journey, just a bus ride and an awkward light rail journey. It seems on the N Line in San Fran, you can hop off where ever you like. Well that's what it seemed like as people pressed the buzzer and got off in the middle of a street. There were no platforms in sight. How the hell am I supposed to know when to get off? When in doubt, copy the locals. Once I was close to where I needed to be, I pressed the buzzer. It worked! I jumped off with my case and nobody batted an eye-lid.

Counting down the houses, I came to a gradual stop at the address scrawled on my map. I wasn't sure if I had the right place as it looked more like an office front. I knocked on the thick glass door nervously although it barely made a sound. Soon enough there was movement and a new adventure began.

Ryan and Maria were very welcoming and offered me a cup of tea from their extensive collection. I sat at the table with my fruity tea and took in my surroundings. I was surprised how small their place was. I don't say this out of snobbery, but if I was to host someone I'd need a big place so there wouldn't be any encroachment in each other's space. It could make things awkward. That's probably more because I'm not such a fan of confined spaces.

There was an airbed set up which took up most of the living room. I wasn't the only surfer staying there. Tom, an American traveller, took ownership of the couch. This was a lot to take in but I was still happy. Nobody acted as though they wielded axes at strangers in their spare time and I felt safe. Ryan and Maria must be nice people if they took in a fellow American for free. A lot of hosts on CS only accept surfers from different countries/nationalities. It depends what people want from their surfers - if it's social and cultural or whether they're just happy to help a fellow traveller out with a free place to kip for the night.

Although I only moved from one side of San Fran to the other, I was beat. I drank my tea, chatted for a bit and completely passed out on the sofa. Written down, that does sound like I was drugged but genuinely, I was just tired...seriously guys, couchsurfing is awesome!

Sleeping dominated the day but I did feel exceptionally good afterwards. I felt refuelled, recharged, ready to take on anything...but it was late evening and Ryan was at work and Maria was heading out to play tennis.

Tom returned and I suggested we go out for some food. Tom knew of a nearby Indian restaurant and said there's a late night cake shop he wanted to check out...honestly, I didn't suggest cake (I checked my notes and everything!).

The Indian was nothing to shout about but the cake shop was wonderful. It was a little out of the way but it was definitely worth the journey. Tart To Tart is a dessert café that according to online reviews is bland and full of students. Maybe we went on a good day as it wasn't that busy and it certainly wasn't bland.

As we approached the counter, I stood agog at the array of sweet-things. There seemed to be every cake imaginable. Tom and I ordered a slice of cake each to share and a drink.

In hindsight, I should have divvied out the portions as Tom was like a machine. For me, cake eating is a marathon not a race. I like to take my time and enjoy it. All that ended there and then as I had to keep up or I'd get nothing! If anyone wonders why I don't share cake...hello!

Thankfully our conversation lasted longer than the cake as we were locked out until 11pm. I realised how lucky I'd been with my past hosts in being entrusted with a key.

Speaking of previous hosts, I received a text message from Nathan about going out for a ride on his motorbike. He said he had some free time the next day to take me out. I'm so glad I was cheeky enough to ask!

There's No Place Like Home

Having been back in England for six months (a sharp reminder of how far behind I am with my tales I know) I have fallen into routine life again. Not just that but I've picked up a lot of old habits and in some ways, have slotted myself back into society like I'd never left. It's only when I look at photos and remember that I do have a blog to update that it becomes real, that those moments actually happened.

A big part of my life before travel was how lonely I would feel. I worked hard and exhausted myself to the point where social interaction seemed like an unbearable option. Instead, I locked myself up in my room watching TV or or surfing online as it felt easier. I spent all day talking and fending off people that I just wanted a rest. I didn't want to talk to anyone. It sounds a bit sad and perhaps it was. You're forgetting that the last nine months before my trip, I worked two jobs. My brain was only just functioning.

It may surprise some of you, but travelling solo was far from lonely. I was always surrounded by new faces and exciting places. Every city runs at a different pace and you have to adapt and keep up. Thinking back, I'd have to try really hard to isolate myself. My times of loneliness came when I missed home and my closest friends. I did make new ones though and had a great support network in certain countries.

There is a way around everything with travel which is why it always seems so dream-like. When I constantly moved, problems that occurred were dealt with and then forgotten about. There's always so much to contend with that focusing all your energy on one particularly negative aspect of a day is wasteful. There's so much to see and do so what's the point in moping?

Now my life is static, I can't help but look back. Of course I only remember the best memories but life on the road was, in many ways, a lot easier. Dorothy said there's no place like home after landing in Oz but she only started moaning when things got tough. Not so long before, you could see Dorothy skipping up the yellow-brick-road with her new buddies. Being in an unfamiliar land with recently acquired friends provides a perfect distraction from reality. Problems fade, stress is a distant long-forgotten nightmare and all that matters is the here and now. It's exhilarating. Although Dorothy had exquisite taste in shoes, I was in no hurry to clack my heels and wish to be home.

*****

San Francisco does not run short in transport options. Light rail, bus, street car, cable car, metro...I even saw a guy peddling about on a unicycle. Granted, it's not for everyone, but this place has a mode of transport for everyone.

Although I didn't trust my unicycling skills, I did like the idea of adding another wheel to that equation and rent a bicycle. One of my favourite days in Kyoto, Japan was when I rented a bike.

My first priority was fuelling up so a hearty breakfast was needed. I fancied a fry-up. I think Andy's omelette the day before stirred my dormant morning taste buds that craved greasy fatty goodness. I found a couple of empty cafes and spotted an IHOP which is pretty much the American symbol for breakfast. It was rammed. I walked inside and families were huddled in a corner until their table was ready. I overheard someone say that the wait was 2 hours. Either IHOP is really good or everyone in San Fran had the same bacon-cravings as me. Dammit. Very rarely am I prepared to wait longer than half an hour for food. Unless it's being served by a naked Ryan Reynolds in a tiny strategically placed apron...ooof.

Instead, I settled for a pocket-friendly cooked breakfast from a nearby cafe. The hash brown took up half the plate! I shouldn't be so surprised, America do like to go big on everything. Who needs IHOP? Ha, not me.

Energised, I marched over to the bicycle rental place. A kind and rather dashing attendant assisted me in choosing my bike. I had the bog-standard, the mid-range with a comfy looking seat or an electric bicycle. I decided to go for the mid-range bike as I'd like a comfortable ride. I laughed at the idea of getting an electric bike and saw it as a waste of money. There's nothing wrong with my legs and it's not like I don't need the workout.

With that out of the way, I opened up the map I was given and asked for some tips on where to go after I'd tackled the bridge. I was told there's a beautiful view point not too far from the bridge. I circled the area and made a mental note to look out for any sign posts that mention Seal Rocks.

There was nothing else left but to follow the road round to the cycle path that leads to Golden Gate Bridge. I placed my belongings in the handy front-basket and fastened my bike helmet. I looked like a wally but I didn't fancy cracking my skull open.

Shakily, I began my journey to the bridge on the weird side of the road. You think it's strange driving a car on the wrong side of the road, try cycling! I felt like any moment a car would come along and clip me. I needn't have worried as the cycle lanes in America are very wide. I'm used to tucking in my elbows and taking a sharp intake of breath whenever I rounded a corner. If I had the balance, I could outstretch both of my arms and make an airplane noise...but then I really would be making full use of my bike helmet. I'd like to keep my clean record of no broken bones thank you very much.

There was no chance of getting lost as tourists meandered towards the bridge like competing daisy-chains. I stopped every now and then to take a few photos but it didn't take long until I was at the foot of the bridge.

My experience on the bridge itself was somewhat rushed. It was absolutely packed. Although there was a pedestrian lane and a cycle lane, there wasn't much room. I am glad I had my bike as I cycled half way along the bridge, paused, looked out and cycled to the end then back again. San Francisco's trademark rolling fog clung to the skyline whilst the arching sun punched through pockets of clearing. It was a beautiful view and no amount of tourists could ruin that.

At this point I must have taken at least 30 photos of the bridge. So I am as bad as the people on Lombard Street. I wanted to capture the bridge at varying angles to ensure I had a selection to look at later and choose my favourite shot. I took a few photos of the view and moved on. I couldn't wait to get off the bridge and away from the crowds.

There was still plenty of time left before I had to return my bike. I thought I'd be adventurous and deviate from the cycle path in search of Seal Rocks or whatever the guy at the shop said. I had a map, what could go wrong?

Oh dear. What was I thinking! Every film and TV show that's based in San Francisco shows panning shots of the Transamerica Pyramid building and then the mountainous streets. Two iconic symbols, a pointy building and hilly streets. It's not difficult to remember but after that day of cycling, I certainly won't forget it.

Now I know that people aren't pansies when they pay the extra few dollars for an electric bike. They are bloody smart-arses. I panted and I wheezed my way across to Lincoln Park and Eagles Point. I thought I came close to finding Seal Rocks but I failed in my mission. I took my bike down a dirt track but soon found out that bikes are not allowed. I noticed the signs about half an hour in after carrying it up and down several steps. I even got the odd puzzled look by a few clued-up locals.

One local power-walked past me with his bike resting on one shoulder and was completely caked in mud. He grinned at me as if to say - "Isn't this great? Wow I feel awesome." I tried to emanate the same sentiment rather than admitting failure.

It was reassuring to find that I wasn't the only one who made this error. A family decided to take their bikes down the same path just as I walked back up. They asked for my advice - as if my sweaty and dusty demeanor didn't already answer the question - and I recommended they go back and search for another way across. The mother agreed but the 'macho' dad and two peppy kids disagreed. I'm sure they found out the hard way like I did.

Despite the detour, I did have fun and still found some interesting view points. It was time to head back which seemed like a simple task looking at my map. As I got lost earlier (oh did I forget to say that...come on, this is me, of course I got lost!), I decided to cycle in and around the area until I hit a main street, cut across accordingly and head up to the piers. I didn't get lost but it was completely knackering. As well as the dipping streets, there were traffic lights after each block. I could only cycle fast enough to pass through one or at a stretch, two green lights. This gave me a couple of minutes to catch my breath before I had to power through again.

Determined but utterly beat, I finally arrived at the rental place. I made sure I caught my breath before dropping the bike off. I admitted that I couldn't find Seal Rocks but explained where I went instead and left with a smile on my face. Phew, right I need to get back and sort my stuff out as I was due to meet my new host.

A set time wasn't made so I didn't feel like I had to rush too much. I got back to Andy's, showered and packed. My phone was playing up and I wasn't getting full text messages. I was too nervous to call as I wasn't sure what impression that would leave.

Suddenly things changed and I needed to get over there right away as my host had somewhere important to be. Naturally, I flapped and got on the wrong bus...twice. I felt terrible. This guy was waiting for me to arrive so he could let me in. What is wrong with me? (Don't answer that). Normally I'm a lot more organised than this and usually leave even earlier if I have no idea where I'm going. This time I actually did know where I was going.

Pressing the buzzer, I wondered what awaited me. I hope he wasn't angry with me! Moments later a tall figure emerged and approached the door. I couldn't see very clearly and didn't want to smile and introduce myself to the wrong person. It was my new host, Nathan. He took me to his place. I chuckled as I entered.

Was Charlie Brooker known in America? I asked, he wasn't. Nathan had no idea what I was talking about. He bought the mat as he thought it was funny. It was a subtle rebellion against the generic 'welcome' mats. Fair enough.

Nathan pointed at things, showed me where I'd be sleeping and took off. I hope I didn't make him late. I didn't hang around for long as I went to meet Laura and Bree one last time before they left San Fran. Nathan left me a key so I didn't have to worry about not being able to get back in. I met Laura at Bigfoot Lodge which was a bar that was within short walking distance to where I was staying. We later met Bree and went to a nearby Mexican restaurant to stuff our faces. I feel like my waistline is slowly puffing out like the burritos I constantly scoff. Perhaps you are what you eat.

Once we had eaten so much that it hurt to move, we planned our next stop. Laura and Bree said there's a shisha bar nearby which sounded like a good plan to me. On our way we passed many 'happy' souls high on life or possibly something else err natural. A bouncer certainly expressed his joy at Bree - "Daaaamn, you got buns!" Me and Laura were in stitches. My buns went by unnoticed, hmph.

As time marched on, we didn't seem to be anywhere near a shisha bar. I'm sure Laura said it was only a few minutes away. When I asked, it turned out it was a few minutes away from the hostel where Laura and Bree were staying. I didn't fancy that long stretch back by myself so I decided to give the shisha bar a miss and headed back to Nathan's. I saw Nathan when I got back but we were so beat that neither of us could understand each other. It felt like we were having separate conversations as I thought he was talking about one thing and he thought I was talking about something else. Our heads hurt with confusion so we mumbled our goodnights.

Tonight marked my first night on an actual couch like the namesake. Plenty of pillows and covers made it a very snuggly sleep. I'm having the best sleep I've had in a long time and it's not costing me a penny. Why didn't I think of this before?

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.

Down In Mexico

An outsider may crinkle their brow in confusion as to why I crammed everything I wanted to do into one day. Even more so when they realise that I still had one full day left in San Diego.

From past experience I have learnt to try and get all the city-musts out of the way as soon as possible. Stating the bleedin’ obvious is probably what comes to mind for most of you reading this, but you will be surprised how easy it is to become lazy when travelling. After a travel day, I usually want to do the easiest thing or visit the nearest place to the hostel. Without thinking I waste my first couple of days dithering about and then my plans change and I either don’t have time or have to rush my last days in an effort to fit everything in.

For instance, I had one week in Kyoto, Japan. I thought that was ample time to see everything. I met up with a friend and visited a couple of temples nearby. I stretched that out over my first two or three days. Before I knew it, I was making preparations to leave so I ended up rushing about trying to see everything. I still had a good time but all my procrastinating and “finding my feet” bollocks meant that I didn’t even touch the outskirts of Gion, the famous Geisha district. Abundant with tradition and historic value, I missed out on a tea ceremony or taking a rare snap of a full-time Geisha in her native surroundings. Lonely Planet would weep at my omission.

Regrets are bypassed for me as I know that it is impossible to experience and see everything there is on offer in each country. Perhaps if I had a year in each, I might be able to ensconce myself within the societies and truly learn the culture and history but that’s not my journey this time.

After making loose plans to meet back up with Laura and John, I didn’t want to risk having to choose between seeing them and eating an epic burrito. My efforts were not wasted and I managed to make last-minute plans to visit Tijuana with my new Liverpudlian acquaintances.

Today seemed like Comic-Con’s prime day as Old Town was crawling with creatures from various planets. The bustle of the Comic-Con-goers was interrupted at certain points with an exasperated intercom message – “This is NOT a Comic-Con trolley. Repeat, this is NOT a Comic-Con trolley.” I had visions of someone pushing a shopping trolley full of masked heroes around San Diego. Trolley is not a word I would ever associate with public transport (it's a tram for those not in the know).

Fighting through the noise and crowds, I managed to pick out Laura in the masses and waited whilst John bought day tickets. It was great that the $5 unlimited bus passes also work on selected trolley services. It would cover our trip to and from the Mexican border.

Now more than ever, it became increasingly apparent that cash machines are like gold-dust in some parts of America. We never thought that San Diego would be one of them. John and Laura needed cash so we took a trolley to downtown and from there we would take the necessary tram to reach the border. As Laura and I stared out the windows to figure out when our stop would come, John made conversation with an American veteran. John later told me that veterans have some of the best stories to tell. He wasn’t wrong, this guy was teeming with tales littered with interesting titbits about his country.

Perhaps I was exaggerating slightly by comparing ATMs to gold-dust, but instead of saying “I need to go to a hole in the wall” (a common expression when there is a need to visit an ATM in England), I would say “I need to find a random shop that might have a stand-alone cash machine stashed somewhere.” But most of these were situated in pawn shops or other establishments that look equally dodgy.

It was slightly frustrating as a relatively simple act of withdrawing money becomes a treasure hunt. It didn’t help that we were all pretty hungry. Our fuses were short but became happily distracted with the pretty leaflet and freebie droppers. One particular girl hypnotised many tourists and locals alike with her swaying fishnet-clad hips. I still can’t remember what she was promoting but I remember exactly what she was wearing. Is that worrying?

As if we were under a spell, the three of us inadvertently followed the siren. We were soon brought back down to earth when two gleeful Americans shoved packets of Slim Jim jerky in our hands. This could solve our hunger problems temporarily at least.

Rounding the corner, a cash machine stood out like a bright beacon. We scurried across as the sooner we get the money the sooner we can make it across the border and stuff our faces. Slim Jim was not enough to satiate us completely.

Whilst John withdrew his money, Laura and I clocked the Slim Jim mothership. As well as holding a hoard of Slim Jim packets, there were carnival games that anyone could take part in. My competitive nature coupled with my desire to gain more free stuff meant that I practically stormed through the small group of bystanders.

Not surprisingly, we had to sign a disclaimer stating that we wouldn’t sue Slim Jim if we injure ourselves. Good ol’ America.

Our choices were an arm wrestling game, the classic high striker (hammer and bell) or a punch bag. The punch bag looked like the easiest one so we went for that. I had a lot of weight behind me at that point so I hoped I could use that to my advantage for once.

John and I limbered up like we were entering the Olympics. Laura simply took off her bag and went straight into it. I stood back and watched to gauge what techniques were needed to accomplish the perfect punch. There was a specific spot to hit and a certain way to push your weight forward to get the most points. It did seem like the fattest people were gaining the most points over the seemingly stronger-looking opponents. It’s better to be fat than fit at this point. Perfect!

John faired very well and Laura sourced some hidden anger and punched respectably. I wanted to win. I didn’t care what it was that I actually won, I just wanted victory.

My first punch slipped off the bag and my score was pathetic. I only had two chances left. I made the second shot count and my score rocketed but it still wasn’t enough to win a prize, ergo it wasn’t good enough. I thought back to what had riled me over the years and used that as a stimulant. It ruddy worked and I got a top score and won a belt. Random, but I didn’t care. The guy running the stand said I was one of the top punching girls of the day. Perhaps he was just trying to make me feel better, but I smothered my skepticism and smiled. Yes, I am the champion!

It would have been so easy to spend the afternoon playing games and winning tat but Tijuana awaited us. We caught the next trolley and walked across the border unquestioned. Our hassle free entry into Mexico had us laughing nervously. Surely it can’t be this easy? Pedestrians aren’t deemed as dangerous so it seems but if you have a car you have to have the patience of a saint as you’ll be waiting a while.

Sheesh!

Me and Laura have time to pose with a packet of Slim Jim overlooking queueing traffic

Even though this sounds like the oldest cliché ever created, it did feel like walking into another world. We left cloudy-grey San Diego for sunny Mexico. Tall modern buildings were replaced with grungy one-storey structures. Macy’s and Abercrombie and Fitch morphed into rows of tourists shops all selling the same crap. Each establishment was owned by a middle-aged man trying every trick in the book to get us to come in. They had no luck with us but we did enjoy the efforts many went to. It felt like they were all reading from the same book as every guy commented on how lucky John was to have two “senoritas”. John happily played along. Tijuana is very lively and busy if a little surreal.

Photo opportunity with a zebra-donkey?

Imaginative

Our stomachs growled in protest so we decided to look for somewhere to eat. Along the way we met an American guy called Brad. He was visiting with family but exploring Tijuana alone that day. Brad was searching for a market nearby and asked if we too were looking for the same market as he was a little lost. We got to talking and decided to hang out for a while.

All the restaurants looked the same so we struggled to differentiate between the places that are kosher or ones that would have us clinging to the toilet bowl for the next few days. Most of the places looked busy so we settled upon a place that had seating outside.

Other than tacos and enchiladas, I did not understand anything that was written on the menu. To begin with I was going to stick to the usual tacos, especially as they were cheap, but everything sounded so tasty.

Two lovely waitresses served us homemade chips, dips and took our orders. We awkwardly asked questions about the menu as we were all equally clueless.  I ordered quesadilla even though I still didn’t really know what that was. The picture looked nice though!

Education, politics, travel experiences and social differences were subjects of talk whilst we waited for our food. Brad shared stories about his time living in Turkey and I got to hear more about Laura and John’s adventures.

Our food arrived promptly and nobody hesitated in digging in. It was a feast.

It's not all for me!

Me, Laura and Brad with our lovely waitresses

Me, Laura, Brad and John moments before we tucked into our grub

Time slipped away as we realised that a good couple of hours had passed by. We bid farewell to the ladies and took to the streets in search of this elusive market.

It didn’t take us long to find what we were looking for. The market sure had a lot of character.

Those aren't sultanas, they're wasps. Yuck!

I'm not sure what the idea behind this was!

It was definitely popular with the locals. We bounced around and ricocheted off people like a ball-bearing firing through a pinball machine. I believe this is where we lost Brad. With no mobile phone to call, we shrugged and carried on walking around. Brad left our lives as seamlessly as he entered it.

In no direct correlation to what had just happened we entered a church. I’m not religious at all in that I have no strong beliefs either way. It was still interesting to watch others worship and pray. Some sat in silence, others clenched prayer beads and many knelt down in the aisle briefly as a sign of respect. Church etiquette is well above and beyond my knowledge so I was soon ready to go.

Somehow the day was coming to a close already. We walked back to cross the border. There was no avoiding one bar owner we met when we first entered. We made the fateful mistake of telling him that we’d come back and maybe have a drink. Of course he remembered us. One drink wasn’t going to do any harm and we couldn’t exactly argue over the pricing.

Mister bar owner fussed over us as we were pretty much his only customers at that point. Perhaps their avoidance tactics were better than ours - we have a lot to learn.

Sipping our dirt-cheap Coronas, we played a couple of games of pool. I sucked as always. As we started to play another game, a guy came over and asked if we fancied playing a game of doubles – Laura and John versus me and this guy. Why not? The woman he came in with was stood at the bar watching and later walked into one of the back rooms.

I had my game face on

This stranger was very odd looking. He looked a lot older than he probably was. His prematurely-aged skin creased together like a bulldog. With zero dress sense and tacky jewellery, this guy seemed harmless. Perhaps this was all himself or done purposely as he tried so hard to hustle us out of money. Now I can be a little too trusting but even I saw through his act. At first he played worse than me and then every now and again he’d pull out a pretty good shot. The game would end and he’d ask us to play for money – “Just for fun”. He’s barking up the wrong tree in asking a backpacker to cough up money for nothing!

A couple of games later we called it a day finished our beers and left. Laura and John laughed as we left but I didn’t get the joke at first. It turns out the guy was a pimp and the woman he came in with was taking care of business whilst he tried making a bit of extra cash himself. I was completely oblivious to the goings on. Typical.

It was a strange way to finish our time in Tijuana but equally as funny. It was the only bar we went to as we didn’t really have time to hang about. Crossing back into America proved a lengthier process than our breezy entrance. We firstly had to queue and then answer random questions about our travels to American officials.

Having gotten the trolley back to Old Town it was time to say goodbye to Laura and John. There was a possibility that we’d be in San Fran at the same time but it felt like this was going to be our last meet. It’d be nice to see them again in their hometown of Liverpool and I could show them the sights of York if they were ever in the area.

My bus wasn’t due for a while so I waited with them and waved goodbye as their bus pulled away. I walked across to where I thought my bus was. The correctly numbered bus was sat in the terminal with its lights off and a bulky driver was sat reading the newspaper. People were stood around curiously as to why the guy wasn’t boarding passengers. It was around five minutes until departure so I guess the guy thought he had time for a break.

This did not go down well with those waiting. I could hear faint murmurings of irritation. Now although there wasn’t a strict queue in place, it was pretty clear who was to board the bus first. This one guy strutted to the front, right outside the door of the bus. If this was England there would be hell to pay. I wasn’t exactly ready to pummel this guy or anything but I wasn’t best pleased. I detest queue jumpers and I am usually one of those people who either pipes up or pushes back.

It was interesting to see how this rolled out. Up to now, I’ve heard many an angry American and love it. They get so wound up and shout all sorts of expletives – “Asshole” and “douche bag” – are my favourites. Neither was uttered in this instance though. Instead, I could see a tall black guy shifting from side to side and I could see he wasn’t happy. The guy who pushed in turned to him and asked if there was a problem for which the guy replied, “Naaa, I aint trippin’.”

What!? I’ve seen many depictions of the plethora of racial stereotypes in America but I never actually thought that there were people who spoke like that. I thought it was a caricature! I just wanted to carry on listening to this guy speak!

This revelation was disrupted by the bulky driver exiting the bus. A mammoth of a guy slowly waddled across the street and replaced him. It took him a good few minutes to heave himself onto his seat and set everything up. By the time he sorted himself out and everyone boarded, the bus was around ten minutes late. Pointless! In the meantime, the guy who wasn’t trippin’ made sure that the two young Asian girls with suitcases bigger than their petite frame boarded the bus first. He bellowed – “Ladies first!” He shamed the stupid queue-jumping idiot as well as all the males. What a gentlemen. Normally it’s every man and woman for themselves when it comes to public transport but not today.

Back at the hostel I dumped my stuff and went straight to my laptop. I needed to check if I’d had an responses to my couchsurf requests for San Francisco. As there wasn’t a lot that I fancied doing in LA, I decided to stay in a hostel before embarking on my seven day tour to San Fran. I’ll be there just over a week so it was ambitious to think that one person would host me for that long. The average stay for most surfers is two nights. Ideally, I needed three hosts which is going to be incredibly difficult to pull off.

Couchsurfing originated in San Fran which I thought would work in my favour in that there are a shit-load of hosts there. What I didn’t anticipate was that my requests were amongst a gazillion others as every other backpacker is thinking the exact same thing as me. I needed to stand out. I had already sent out a handful of requests but it looked like I need to send out a heck of a lot more. It is surprisingly time-consuming going through people’s profiles and finding a good host, or perhaps I’m just picky!

My efforts failed at the first hurdle as my battery died. Shit! The hostel I was staying in is so rundown that there are no plug sockets in the room itself. There were two outlets in the bathroom but the front plastic shield hangs off the wall slightly. For fear of electrocuting myself, I avoided using it entirely. I didn’t have that long left to make arrangements so I diced with death and plugged in my laptop. The cable didn’t stretch to my bed which was on the opposite side of the room. Instead I sat on the toilet typing away. It did make for an unusual sight. I just hoped it was worth it and everything would find a way of working out in San Fran.

Which Backpacker Are you?

Travellers or backpackers are predictable enough to be categorised. You have your Guidebook Whores who do everything by the letter as according to their chosen bible (Lonely Planet, Rough Guide…etc). On the flipside you get the Hardcore Nutters who stubbornly do everything independently without any help, not even Google Maps! They also look down on the Guidebook Whores and class their travelling as not travelling at all. This falls closely into the Originals who will strive to “Go off the beaten track” with everything and anything. Mixing with the locals is their favourite pastime. There are also the Trust Fund Gappers who throw money at everything without care or consideration and have no shame in showing it. Again, on the flipside of that you have the Shoestring Savvies who know every which way to save cash. Noodles and tuna are their only dietary requirements and can reel off a list of free things to do in a heartbeat.

This is only the beginning. I could name so many more. There are thousands travelling around the world right now so categories are created all the time. I’m not quite sure which one I fit into yet. I hover between an Original (minus the smugness) and Shoestring Savvy. I don’t have the sense of direction to be a HN or the dosh to be a TFG.

As I started to get ready for my dinner out with Laura, I met two girls who had a very specific agenda in San Diego. They’d never been before and were only here for two days. Day one would be spent in Sea World and day two would be spent at the zoo.

Suddenly I transformed into a Hardcore Nutter as I felt like that was such a waste. There is a lot more to San Diego than the tourist attractions. I shouldn’t scoff but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t let out my true feelings and smiled and nodded. It’s something I do frequently when travelling as I meet many people I don’t understand. If they laugh then it must be something good so I just smile and nod. It works! A couple of times I’ve been caught out as the person is asking me a question and all they see is a grinning nodding idiot in front of them. It’s a working theory.

Although it may seem that some people’s journeys are wasted (especially those who sleep by day and party by night – you can do that at home for a fraction of the cost!), it is not my place to judge. As long as the person is happy then who gives a shit?  Everything that I am doing on my trip might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I’m having a fantastic time and am unbelievably happy. I don’t care what anyone thinks. People shouldn’t feel like there is a right or wrong way to experience a country.  

*****

Laura offered to take me in her car, a gesture which I gratefully accepted. I didn’t want to have to stress about directions and transport. Naturally, every car that passed by fitted the description Laura gave me. I kept thinking that maybe she’d left without me and I’d be stood there forever.

My imagination didn’t have time to fully unwind that paranoid notion as Laura peered out from her car and greeted me. We introduced ourselves and spoke for a little while about our travels and what brings us to San Diego. Our conversation was briefly interrupted as a woman in the vehicle in front wound down her window and started throwing plain tortilla wraps into the street. It was a surreal moment. I wasn’t sure if Laura saw what had just happened. It could be a San Diego pastime for all I knew.

Time passed and it happened again. Laura definitely saw it that time and I joked about whether that is normal or not. Laura assured me that it wasn’t and we both laughed at the randomness.

After seeking out a free car parking space, we entered the sushi restaurant. The waitress ushered us to a table where a guy was already sat. Laura explained in the car that we’d be meeting another couchsurfer along with two of her friends.

Phillip shook my hand (an introduction I’m still not used to as it feels so formal) and introduced himself. Our personalities danced off of each other instantly as we were all chatty and outgoing. Unfortunately Laura’s friends cancelled in the end as they were stuck in traffic. We didn’t hesitate for a second and ordered food and drinks straight away. We were all equally hungry as ever!

This was the first time I’d had sushi outside of Japan. It sounds strange as I do love sushi. The over-the-counter stuff just doesn’t look the same and I’ve never had the opportunity to eat out at a sushi restaurant as I’ve not met anyone who likes it all that much. We washed down our exceedingly tasty sushi with sake and beer.

Phillip astutely suggested we turn our drinks into sake-bombs. It’s the same concept as jagerbombs. I was running on empty as I’d not eaten since my breakfast feast and the freshly eaten sushi didn’t line my stomach quick enough. Phillip and Laura were both driving so passed on their unfinished drinks to me. I was merrier than Christmas.

My giggly-drunk persona went down well with Laura and Phillip. I was having such a wonderful time. We all swapped travel stories and I got some great tips from them both about couchsurfing. Phillip had some of the best stories and was incredibly funny.

Overloaded with sushi, we decided to move on to the venue where the couchsurfing meet was taking place. Phillip was hoping to find a host there so had his huge backpack with him. The thought of him wearing his backpack whilst riding his scooter, made me chuckle.

Although I found this funny, I didn’t like the fact that a guy outside the restaurant called my new couchsurfing friend a weirdo. Phillip brushed it off politely but I didn’t do the same. As Laura and I walked to our car I joked that the guy had no room to talk as he had white sports socks pulled high whilst wearing brightly coloured plimsolls. He was hardly a person worthy enough to be doling out fashion advice. Unfortunately the volume of my voice was louder than I thought and he heard me. Laura warned me that I can’t go around talking like that as I could get myself into trouble. The same goes for nights out in my hometown but the only thing I’d encounter back home is a few gobby girls, here I could get stabbed!

Our next venue was packed full of people and it was difficult to distinguish who was part of the couchsurf meet. It turned out that a whole side of the bar was full of couchsurfers of varying ages.

Phillip, who had no intention of buying a drink, and I went to the bar to try some beer. I didn’t realise that you could taste the beer before you bought it. I should try that in England. Although I doubt the bartender would really believe that I didn’t know what Carling tasted like. These beers were a bit more exotic and I opted for a zesty orange beer. It was delicious. It kept my merriment bubbling.

Despite the hordes of people, I only ended up talking to one girl who had a flurry of round-the-world themed questions. We swapped details but I didn’t think she’d be in touch*.

Satisfied with our night, Laura gestured to leave and kindly dropped me off back at the hostel. I had a lovely evening spent with complete strangers. It is what happens when travelling of course but it was all organised online. It goes against everything that was ingrained in me at a young age regarding online chatrooms and social networking. Laura wasn’t a 65-year-old pervert but a lovely fellow traveller. My introduction to couchsurfing was a success. I only hoped that this would carry on and I’d actually find hosts.

*Subsequently, the girl never added me as a contact on Couchsurfing.org as she promised