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.

Eating Like A Boss

In a sub-conscious protest to my day of being chained to my laptop, I planned on doing as much as possible the next day.

Energy came in the form of scrambled eggs and plain pancakes. The M&M pancakes were a one-off treat. If I’d known, I would have packed more down. I didn’t hang about, grabbed my things and headed straight out.

The hostel was brilliantly located next to a bus link. Transport, like so many other things, is incredibly cheap in San Diego. I paid $5 for a day pass as I knew I’d be stopping and starting a lot.

Firstly, I thought I’d get the boring stuff out of the way. I needed a mobile phone. My international SIM card was useless as my phone did not pick up any signal. A girl in the dorm recommended getting an AT&T prepaid mobile as the signal is really good.* I found directions to the nearest outlet and added it to the collection. I was taking no risks and wrote down step-by-step directions to each place I wanted to visit. I did not want to cut my day short because I didn’t have a clue where I was. As a back-up, I took my notebook with me. It is quite heavy to carry but I had a lot of ground to cover and knew that with a Starbucks on every corner, I could pick up free wifi and get directions instantly if need be.

With all my preparations you’d think I’d be fine right? Ha, when are things ever that easy? I could not for the life of me find this stupid AT&T outlet. I found three other shops that sold mobiles but none of them had prepaid mobiles.

After walking around aimlessly for around half an hour (it felt like 2 hours in the searing heat) and asking directions from a few dodgy passers-by, I gave up. 

What a weird name to call a street

I remembered seeing a Target store further back. I annoyingly turned back on myself and trekked across to the store. It was right by the stop I got off at but hindsight is a wonderful thing.

A perky store-assistant pounced on me straight away. Normally I shake them off instantly as I always prefer finding things on my own without someone hovering over me. This time it made things easier. I had a couple of other things that I needed and she took me to each item. Within minutes I had what I wanted and was eager to get back on a bus to my next stop. I headed across to Old Town to visit the historic park.

As you have probably guessed, Old Town is an old town. To be precise, it’s a replica of how San Diego was in the 1800s (specifically 1821 to 1872 as written in the leaflet I picked up) with a strong Mexican theme running throughout. Within it is an abundance of shops and displays. I was already hungry so headed straight to the restaurant area.

Tight git that I am, I opted for homemade chips and salsa for $2 but there is plenty of delicious Mexican eats to be had here. I couldn’t finish my chips and saved them for later. The hostel has a no food policy in the rooms but I didn’t think my tortilla chips would offend anyone and they certainly wouldn’t last long enough to entice the local cockroaches.

Once my appetite was satiated I explored.

There's something different about this mannequin but I can't quite put my finger on it...

Mexican gardening

Performances take place here at night

Dodgy decor

Donkey!

Jackpot!

There was a lot to see and I enjoyed my gentle stroll within the grounds of Old Town. I saw a sign pointing to a blacksmith and thought that could be interesting. School kids crowded the area so I stood back and watched as a young guy gave a short speech about what a blacksmith does.

Well hello there…

Perhaps I lingered here a little longer than necessary. After a brief Q&A, the young blacksmith went. An older bearded guy replaced him and it just wasn’t the same. I left shortly after as he greeted the next school group.

Old Town was rammed with families and school groups and no wonder, the weather was glorious. People may prefer to spend quite a while here but I was satisfied with an hour (or so).

My next bus journey took me south to downtown. I mingled with aliens and robots…it was Comic-Con. Even if people weren’t dressed up, you could spot a ticketholder a mile off with their giant tote bags and posters. Although I’m not a giant comic book fan, I do love films so part of me was curious about what was going on.

Some locals might not agree as a few moaned at the truck that parted traffic and caused a jam. A camera crew followed as a woman swung a sword and skipped along. I had no idea who the character was or what the purpose of the video was. It did seem a little strange.

Deviating from the crux of the melee, I ended up meandering through a series of shops. Sparks of my old shopaholic tendencies crept to the surface. I entered the Abercrombie & Fitch store with trepidation. I knew it would be full of stunning staff stroke models. I expected to be thrown out as my face offended them. Instead I was greeted warmly and left to my own devices. I had a quick look around and within 10 seconds, I clocked at least five things that I wanted to try on/buy. This is not good. I compromised with myself that I’d wait until New York and splurge. After a year of budgeting, whatever money I had left in New York would be spent frivolously on great food and pretty things. I left the shop empty handed.

Macy's was next door and I had a quick peek in there. Unfortunately, as much as I try to convince myself otherwise, I do not window shop. If I go out shopping, I have to buy something. Coming back empty-handed is classed as defeat. It’s a wasted journey. Everyone else is laden with bags and I’m not. They have lovely things and I do not. The fact that I had to upgrade from the Beast to a suitcase in Australia shows how I could not suppress my shopping urges. I just need to wait.

Seeking out the nearest escape route, I jumped on another bus to Balboa Park. I’d heard good things about this place and it also holds San Diego Zoo. I don’t really know what I expected to do when I got there. I had no blanket or picnic. I’d already walked for most of the day so the thought of another aimless stroll didn’t seem attractive. I attempted to see wonder but grew bored within 10 minutes. I needed sugar.

As I’ve focused on couchsurfing so much I failed to mention my secondary mission in America.

Of course making friends and sleeping on their couches is fulfilling and can be deemed as an achievement, I also sought a different kind of glory. I wanted to eat. I wanted to eat BIG.

The Mission

1. I want to seek out foods as big as my face.
2. I want to eat so much food that I’m forced to waddle out of the restaurant.
3. I want sugar, juicy meats, and bread - everything that is always classed as “bad” foods.

Nutritionists and avid-gym-goers be warned, my American blog posts will be full of food stories that will tease your taste buds. I have no idea how I didn’t end up buying an extra seat on the plane ride home.

To aid my campaign I looked to Man Vs. Food and Kid in a Candy Store. Bring. It. On

*****

My first stop on the foodie voyage was Eclipse Chocolat. This was featured on Kid in a Candy Store. I knew this was the place for me when I saw a clip on one of their specialities – rococos. Yes, that’s right, 1/2 a pound of chocolate. I think that’s plenty of sugar.

This café was a pain in the arse to get to. It’s in such a random location – next to a car valet service centre and a pizza place. It took me quite a while to get to as a couple of streets weren’t signposted clearly.

My spirits lifted when I clocked the café.

To say that the place was featured on a show, it was pretty quiet. Undeterred, I went up to the counter. I couldn’t really see the rococo so asked the waitress. It had been motherflipping discontinued. Are you fricking kidding me?! I’d schlepped all this way to get my 1/2 pound of chocolate and you guys don’t even have it. I was not impressed.

Emphasis seemed to side more with the coffee than the chocolate. Hmph. I didn’t want to leave the shop empty handed. I browsed the chocolate bars which were teeny-tiny for the price tag. Nothing really stood out for me. I got a spicy pecan caramel rocky road and left in disgust.

Determined not to let this failure outshine my mission, I knew that Man Vs. Food would not let me down. My next location was actually within walking distance. It’s a sign.

Lucha Libre Taco Shop is a sight to behold.

It looks pretty standard outside but wait...

...look at that!!

Having seen the Man Vs. Food episode, I knew exactly what I wanted but for those that aren’t sure, the Surfin' California was marked on the menu as being featured in the show.

Unlike the last place, Lucha Libre was packed. Everyone looked happy including the staff. Even though the tables were full and the queue long, it did not feel like an eternity until I got served. So much so, that I didn’t have time to take in my surroundings. Wrestling masks hang from various angles of the room and newspaper cuttings litter the walls alongside photos. The bright and funky décor represents the vibrant personality of the place.

What surprised me the most about his place were the humble prices. For those on a budget, you can grab one of their famous hotdogs for $2. I came for one thing, a burrito, Surfin' Caliornia burrito to be exact. It sounds awesome and I was ready for it.

As I paid for my food, an unnerving option appeared on the computer screen. Tips. The cashier explained the a tip isn’t compulsory but I needed to make my selection – 12%, 15% or 18% I think were the options, as well as zero of course. I’d not eaten anything from Lucha Libre yet and it’s counter service which is pretty standard. As my order barely scraped $10 I opted for 15%.

Whilst I waited for my beasty burrito, I received a healthy portion of homemade chips. I filled up my empty paper cup with lemonade and grabbed a few miniature cups of salsa. I miraculously found a seat right in the corner of the restaurant.

Although I should have saved room for my burrito, I couldn’t help but nibble on the chips. It was at this point when I noticed that a couple came in and sat down at the Champion’s Table. They received table service. It may sound like an odd place to bring a date but I’d love it if a guy brought me here.

My name was shouted and I collected my godly burrito. I couldn’t remember if there was a timed challenge on the show or not but all I wanted to do was eat the whole thing without puking. Challenge accepted.

Grilled steak, shrimp, french fries, avocado, pico de gallo, cheese and super secret chipotle sauce

Half way through and I'm still smiling

Surprisingly I ate the first three quarters in around five minutes (this is no lie, I timed myself just in case there was a challenge in the show). It was probably because I was incredibly hungry but it was damn tasty too. I decided to have a little break and refilled my cup.

The last few bites were the hardest but it was a hella-good burrito. If I ever grace San Diego’s streets again I will definitely drop by at Lucha Libre.

Full to the brim but satisfied, I made my way across to the bus stop. There was one final stop that I wanted to make, La Jolla (la-hoy-yah). I’m pretty glad that somebody recommended this place to me as I would never have been able to pronounce this place correctly otherwise!

Even though I managed to make it for sunset it was too cloudy for any beauty shots. I still had enjoyed taking in the scenery. I found a lookout area where nobody was sitting. Down below was a small cove where a couple sat hugging. Another couple sat on the rocks straight ahead of me and were taking photos. At this point you’d think I’d start pining for something I don’t have but I actually smiled. Both couples looked exceedingly happy and it made me smile in acknowledgement rather than jealousy. I’ve done everything that I’ve wanted to do on my trip off of my own back. It’s a fantastic feeling. Being completely independent in that sense makes me happy. One day, (I hope) being with someone will make me just as happy but it’s reassuring knowing that it’s not something I necessarily need to fulfil me or make my life better than it already is.

Quiet, calm and peaceful. It was a lovely view to round off my hectic day

Nice little spot for couples

By the time I got back to the hostel it was dark. There was no clear way of knowing when the bus arrived at my stop. Inevitably, I got off a few stops too soon and had to walk 10 blocks. Arse.

Instead of having a wasted journey I stopped off at a newsagent and picked up a drink. It was here where I was noticed by a couple of dodgy guys. The cashier rolled his eyes as one guy strained to make conversation with me. It’s surprising how many people will start talking to me about skydiving when I wear my Taupo skydive t-shirt. It makes me laugh thinking about someone going up to a guy wearing a 7-Eleven t-shirt (synonymous with Thailand) and speaking to them about the food stores.

My pace quickened as I tried to find “home” without being hassled further. I made it unscathed and headed straight to my room. I collapsed in bed where I remained for the rest of the night. I was too tired to be social. I do make a rubbish backpacker.

*Complete and utter bollocks. Don’t go with AT&T as the signal is dire. I’d go with Verizon or T-Mobile instead.

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

Something For Nothing

There is a reason why I don’t mention money that much in my blog as I don’t have much of the stuff. I don’t live out of Mummy and Daddy’s pocket nor did I have some high-flying job that I quit back in the UK. I’ve gotten this far through grafting away at home prior to my trip, my tight purse strings and dumb luck.

My friend quite rightly told me that I could fill a separate blog with my “bodging”. Somehow I manage to make the pennies stretch to the unfathomable. Being a tight arse with money has come in handy finally. I knew I’d get the last laugh one day after the endless ribbing.

However, all good things must come to an end. My skills have gotten me this far but Australia took far too much of my money. My predictions in leaving the country with heavy dollar-filled pockets crashed and burned months ago.

Never one to dwell on what could have been, I had a trick up my sleeve. Couchsurfing is something that I dabbled in during my time in Japan and my first days in Australia. It’s a concept I am fairly familiar with having written about it for an article at university. Luckily, those stays were arranged through people that I met on my travels. In America, I’d ran out of contacts. I knew a couple of people but nobody who could host me.

Despite heavy warnings from travellers and Americans (ha!) telling me that there are too many weirdos out there, I decided to look for hosts via the official CouchSurfing website. I’d created a skeleton profile months before in the hope of meeting people in Australia but it turned out to be one of many things I never got around to doing there.

For those not in the know, couchsurfing describes the process of one person, couple or family hosting another traveller. This is the bare bones of it. There is of course a lot more to it than that but you’ll get to understand it a lot better as you read my future travels in America.

People’s reactions and opinions to couchsurfing intrigues me. Instinctively, the majority of people recoil at the thought of staying in a stranger’s home. “They could rape you in your sleep,” or “You could end up having all your stuff stolen,” are just some of the many humourous thoughts that have been expressed about couchsurfing. All by those who haven’t actually couchsurfed I hasten to add!

If you pause to think about it for a moment you’ll realise that couchsurfing isn’t all that bad. As a prospective surfer, you enter a person’s own private space. You must have a possession that you are protective over. At the moment, for me, it’s my laptop. If someone manhandles it or takes advantage of it in anyway then I flip out. It takes a lot for me to let someone use my laptop. For others it could be electronic or something more sentimental such as photos or ornaments. I’m just carrying one possession that I hold dearest to me, imagine how many things a person has in a whole apartment/house. I think that’s pretty admirable and respectable that they feel trusting enough to let someone into their space.

With any social network, you get your weirdos. Heck, have you seen how many I have encountered in the hostels I’ve stayed in!? Like with anything in this world, you have to have your wits about you. A level of common sense weeds out those you suspect that you wouldn’t get on with. Everyone has a profile and there is a reference system.

There is the risk that I’d end up staying with a complete idiot but I’m not paying to stay with this person so if I have any problems I can up and leave. I felt confident that this was the right path for me. Not only would I get a place to stay free of charge, I’d hopefully meet lovely people who know their hometowns. I might get to see things I’d never know about staying in a dorm room full of newbies like me. I wanted to try out something completely new and experience a country in a new light. I set my goal at couchsurfing through my entire stay in America.

Unfortunately I fell at the first hurdle. I tried to find a host in San Diego but posting an ad as well as sending out a handful of requests had failed. I started to have my doubts about couchsurfing. I thought it was easy to find a host, there are so many on the website. Instead, I settled for a hostel by the beach. As I mentioned in my previous post, it’s not the best nor the cleanest but the location was good for bus links as well as eateries and shops.

My first mission of the day was to find a plug adaptor but food came first. One plus point to the hefty hostel price tag, was the free breakfast. I’m used to what hostels class as free breakfast. I’ve had bread and a toaster to a full continental spread so I had no idea what awaited me. I entered the tiny kitchen and dining area and my eyes bulged at what stood before me. Two bright and cheery girls were cooking pancakes. As well as this sweet treat, there was toast and scrambled eggs piled up. Now is the time to fill my boots. I’ve already resigned to the fact that I will get fat in America. I plan on stuffing my face within one of the fattest nations in the world. Mwhaha..ahm nom nom!

Happily tucking into fluffy scrambled eggs and buttery toast, I tried to leave room for a pancake. It was difficult but I managed to force feed myself a peanut M&M pancake. What an awesome combination. It tasted as good as it sounds. By the end, I resembled Dawn French in the  British comedy Christmas episode - Vicar Of Dibley (Click here if you've not seen this episode before or click here to see the specific moment I was thinking of). I was sat on a bench so I didn't have any issues with my chair. The sweet-pancakey-goodness came as a better comfort to me than brussels sprouts ever would!

My sugar boost set me up for the day. I had plenty to do. No I didn’t go to the zoo or do something equally as exciting. Instead, I spent most of the day glued to my laptop sorting out my travels. It may sound like a wasted day but I really needed it. Being away from the internet for two weeks in Fiji has meant that I was seriously behind in my bookings. As I had a tour booked from LA and a festival ticket bought for Chicago, my dates were pretty rigid. I needed to ensure that I was on the right plane/train/bus on a specific day or I’d be screwed.

Before I could start planning, I needed an adaptor. The hostel receptionist gave me directions to a nearby pharmacy-come-supermarket. It was a funny sight as I don’t know any pharmacy in the UK that sells alcohol. I managed to come out with everything I wanted – a plug adaptor, a couple of drinks, Twizzlers (classic American confectionery  and hair straighteners. The latter wasn’t a planned purchase but a very much needed one. The Fijian waters had made my already frizzy hair regress to a frazzled mess. I looked like a yeti. I felt even better about my purchase as it was a flipping bargain! I love America already as everything is so much cheaper.

As I set up my laptop in the dining area, a guy set down across from me, breakfast in tow. Eye contact was made which then led to a semi-lengthy conversation about our travels and what brings us to San Diego. Amongst the friendly chatter, Michael (American) tried to coax me into taking a surfing lesson with him. At the time I was too distracted by his current predicament as he’d lost his car key and needed to move his car from the front of the hostel to prevent receiving a fine or even worse, having his car towed. He was asking me for advice on how to get into his car - somehow I look like a person who can break into a car. I asked if he had a coat hanger handy. Thankfully he didn’t as I’d have no idea what to actually do with it, I just saw somebody break into a car with one once...or maybe it was the front for of a house...

Moving the focus to Michael’s car troubles deviated from his sales pitch. Part of me was tempted as he was charging very little but I’d already done the “surf thing” in Australia and I am useless in the water. I couldn’t really justify the expense and even though he was a nice guy, I just didn’t really want to go in the sea.

As the conversation moved forward, a worker came over and started chatting to Michael. He donned the synonymous hoover pack that almost all hostel housekeepers use. Michael joked with him saying he looked like a superhero. I joined in and asked if his job title is Hoover Man. Unfortunately my sarcasm was lost on this guy who was also American. Is it just me, can I not pull off sarcasm? I know Americans are known for not understanding British humour but he’s not the only one who takes me deadly serious when I’m trying my hardest not to be, dammit!

Hoover Man turned to me with a mixed look of pity and disgust and said that his job title is Housekeeper. This was a clear facepalm moment but I just turned to my laptop, plugged in my music and tuned everyone out. Michael had other new guests to snare so he left me to it.

After scouring the internet for bargains, I managed to have an itinerary that made sense. I’m all up for the go-with-the-flow approach to travel and did it whilst in Japan, Malaysia and Australia but I didn’t have a lot of time or money left. I wanted to make sure that I got everything I could out of my final weeks. To do this, I intended to cram as many places as I could into six weeks.

The Plan

San Diego (3 days)
LA (2 days)
Bus tour begins – Joshua Tree National Park, Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, Death Valley, Yosemite National Park (7 days)
San Francisco (8 days)
Chicago (8 days)
Washington DC (4 days)
Toronto (3 days)
Montreal (3 days)
New York (9 days)

There are travel days in between each trip which I accounted for. It’s very easy to split your days and forget about the journey from one place to another. Travel days are my most unproductive days as I’m always so drained. I make it easier on myself by marking a whole day off for travel so I can rest and get my bearings.

You may notice that I have included two cities in Canada. That was a slightly spontaneous decision. I’d been thinking about visiting Canada for a while but on a separate trip. It was in Fiji when I noticed I had a gap in my itinerary between DC and New York.  Spending over two weeks in New York sounds great but expensive. I used this as an excuse to expand my list of countries. It was this day that I made it official and started booking transport and made provisional reservations at hostels just in case couchsurfing didn’t work out. I did this in every other place in America that I planned to visit.

Whilst I went on a booking spree, I noticed I received a message from someone who I sent a couchsurf request to in San Diego. Laura apologised for not being able to host me as she was out of the city. I messaged back to let her know that I managed to sort things out and asked for any tips. Laura messaged back pretty quickly with a list of places to visit and an invite out for dinner. That evening happened to be a weekly couchsurf meeting. These take place all over the world and are a great way to meet people in the area as well as prospective hosts. I’d already paid for the rest of my stay in San Diego.

It seems like my day wouldn’t be so much of a waste after all. I messaged Laura back accepting her invite. If I’d spent the day sightseeing I would have missed this message so sometimes good things can come from nothing…or doing nothing rather!