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Summer Hols: California Part II

Here we have it – the conclusion of Californian adventure!

I left off last time having just left Santa Monica and was about to begin the drive north with the ultimate goal being to land in San Francisco by the Thursday or Friday, ready for my flight on Saturday afternoon back to Indianapolis.

The next stop on my drive was Malibu. Malibu is a beautiful stretch of the coastline with warm, sandy beaches and, naturally, plenty of palm trees. It’s also home to many celebrities of the LA area, although I didn’t see any around. I spent a few hours at Surfrider Beach here, and had fresh fish from a restaurant whilst sitting on the pier over looking the ocean. The view from the pier and the beach was postcard-esque and, just across the other side of the Pacific Coast Highway was the biggest KFC bucket I’ve ever seen!!

Moving up from Malibu I later arrived in Santa Barbara during the early evening. The sun was just going down but it was still incredibly warm, and the coast areas were full of young people just, well, hanging around. It was like a High School Musical version of some chavs hanging around a bus stop in the UK! I walked around the harbour for a bit, looking at some boats, before I started to wonder what the hell I was actually doing and headed into town. In the centre of the town area there was a market going on, I don’t know if it was a weekly or a nightly thing, but the main street through was closed off to traffic. This was great for people watching, as there was some strange, strange characters that walked past. I was making these observations from my seat inside a FISH AND CHIP SHOP! It claimed to be authentic and to be fair it was pretty close. The bigger surprise was the amount of British people in there! I only spent the one afternoon and night in Santa Barbara, and it also happened to be the one night where I had a really cool room at a pretty good price. It was at a Super8 motel – Google Maps you did me proud again!

The rest of the trip now gets a little bit hazy until I actually get to San Francisco. I don’t mean that in a ‘Hangover’ kind of way after I’d been roofied up by someone, just that I was stopping at so many places that I can’t really remember what order I did them in … although the photo album does kind of help the memory. Basically, the next few paragraphs are gonna be a bit choppy is what I’m trying to say.

On the drive up north I visited a vineyard. That was pretty much it; I turned up, walked around their small visitors centre (that extended to a some yards outside), and that was it. I even walked through the wine tasting area and was completely ignored by everyone – I would understand but I didn’t even have the ‘tache then. Still, around this area was probably some of the hottest weather I experienced out in California; it was absolutely baking – but in a nice way. There was hardly any humidity.

I then stopped at one place on the coast that looked very much like the set to the Disney film ‘Pete’s Dragon’. It was a very busy fishing harbour with lots of small boats and a real fishy smell in the air – you wouldn’t have though it really would you!? Echoing in the background was the barks from some seals/sea lions, so after a short stroll down the pier I was making my little sister jealous back home by emailing her camera phone pictures of the seals playing in the water.

Next up was the area of Monterey and Carmel. This is where I really started to notice that change in the scenery, landscape, and vegetation. The palm trees that had been everywhere in the south had now started to disperse and were replaced by ‘normal’ looking trees (David Attenborough eat your heart out). The coast now was also raising straight out of the ocean, compared to the gentle, flat sandy beaches that I had become used to. Some of the driving and the roads were absolutely breath-taking with very sharp drops into the ocean should you not be paying enough attention to the road. This scenery continued for pretty much the whole stretch of what is known as the Big Sur, and truthfully the views looked more and more European the further I travelled north. Especially when the mist coming off of the Pacific ocean meant that visibility was reduced to a medium fog, and of course the temperature dropped a lot – not great when you’re still wearing shorts. Walking around Carmel (the town where Clint Eastwood was once Mayor) this again had a very European feel; there were coffee shops and even a British tea and sweet shop – I think it was based on a Jane Austen theme. The view when I walked down to the beach was amazing – there were people sunbathing everywhere but there was NO SUN. Obviously it was there, as each time I took my sunglasses off to see properly I was then blinded by the glare. Oddly it was still really warm, it was just the amount of mist that was coming off the ocean.

Once I had set off driving again, I went to find the Bixby Creek Bridge. This is the big bridge that is featured in the Visit California video on my last post, and it’s a beautiful construction. I won’t turn this into a nerd-a-thon, so no facts I’m afraid (although it was very important in the linking of north and south California!). The photographs that I took aren’t great I’m afraid, as the mist was rolling in thick and I was worried about falling over the very steep edges. I also did the 17 Mile Drive which is renowned for it’s scenery around the Pebble Beach area, but I couldn’t really see much as the light was fading and, surprise surprise, there was fog and mist galore. It was a strange feeling though, and highlighted even more clearly the varying climates and environments in California – this area could have been Scotland. There was also a great salty aroma and taste to the air, which reminded me of home and Old Hunstanton beach during the winter (that’s a good thing, by the way).

Next up was a stop in Santa Cruz. This was a nice town, I didn’t see much of it other that the pier and the board walk as I only stayed overnight and then moved on by late morning. I also liked it because the palm trees were back again (although only temporarily). The main thing I remember from Santa Cruz was a sign on one of the food stands offering Deep Fried Cheesecake … I mean, I love cheesecake, but DEEP FRIED?!

This now begin my final drive up to San Francisco. Now, I’m going to put it out there straight away, but I wasn’t a big fan of the place. Most people I’ve told that to are generally a little shocked by it (ok, shocked may be a over exaggeration) but for me it just felt a little too much like the UK/Europe for it be American (I guess that’s actually a huge compliment to San Francisco, heh). I don’t mean that I hated it, far from it, it just will not be somewhere that I’ll rush back to. I did most of the touristy bits: walked across the Golden Gate Bridge, Chinatown, Pier 39, and also drive down the windy Lombard street so many times that I lost count. The hotel that I stayed in here for one night was also on the dodgy side. For starters they offered valet parking. I HATE valet parking – I think it stems from the fact that I don’t like other people driving my car. Even though this wasn’t my car, I still didn’t want to let the Mustang go, but I did. The hotel room just made things even worse. The door didn’t shut properly and, of the two beds, one of them looked like the last occupant was probably murdered on top of the sheets. Or maybe just really messy with the wine, I don’t know. The most important thing was that it was right in the middle of the city though, so was a great base for exploring.

I was amazed at the inclines of the roads, the angles of which made me want to drive everywhere. Even then it’s a very strange feeling as the bonnet/hood of the car stops you getting a good view of traffic at an intersection as it’s just pointing directly up into air. I felt like I was in a movie most of the time, driving up and down the roads – I just wish I could have made a few jumps. I left San Francisco one afternoon and headed over to Walnut Creek to the San Francisco Creamery http://www.sanfranciscocreameryco.com/. This place was featured on Man Vs. Food for their giant ice cream – it’s called the Kitchen Sink and I attempted it. Well, I failed miserably at it. It was some awesome ice cream though, however it did some bad stuff to my body. On reflection, and with the benefit of hindsight, I probably should have went to the bathroom before leaving this place. Maybe it was the brain freeze or the insane sugar rush, but I didn’t go and just headed back to the car. This was bad, because as soon as I got onto the freeway I needed to pee very badly. Still, the feeling was manageable. That is until I reached what I think was the Bay Bridge. The traffic here was terrible, bumper to bumper, and my bladder felt like it was expanding to a size that could possibly cure world drought in one sweep. I readied a water bottle as a last resort, but in a country where everyone drives a Pick Up or some other giant vehicle, you have to be wary of people watching in. The pain was then getting pretty bad, as 4lbs of ice cream is digesting inside of me and thankfully the traffic started moving. I finally got my movie sequence as I rushed through the traffic and off the bridge, now just looking for a fast food restaurant or gas station. By now my jeans are undone to relieve some of the pressure around my waist, when I finally spotted a gas station! I pulled in, parked up, and did quite possibly one of the most ridiculous walks/runs of my laugh into the kiosk all the time sweating like Dr Conrad Murray at MJ’s funeral. I found the bathroom, but it was locked. I then become all un-British-like and went straight to the front of the queue to get the key … and that was the end of that: relief!

That was also pretty much the end of my trip too, as the next day I flew back to Indianapolis with plenty of photographs, souvenirs and memories. As a bonus I was also able to drop the Mustang off without having to explain an odd urine coloured stain on the leather. Phew.

I’ll be uploading the photos to my Flickr tomorrow evening, writing this just took so much longer than I thought …

Summer Hols: California Part I

A few weeks ago I posted a blog that rambled on and on about my trip to Utah on my summer hols. Well, the next leg of my trip was taking me to California. Cali. CA. The state where they elected The Terminator as their Governor. My whole stay in California was scheduled for 7 days; I had booked the flight into Los Angeles and a flight departing San Francisco a week later, but other than that I had nothing planned. Well, I had the rental car sorted, but I’ll come onto that in a moment. I think I might end up splitting this blog into a couple of entries: one for SoCal and one for NorCal, as otherwise it could be pretty lengthy.

So, having avoided the Mormon fundamentalists and a life of multiple wives successfully (wait, hang on …) I boarded my plane at Salt Lake City and headed off to L.A.

On landing in LA I headed to the car rental office. When I say “headed to the car rental office” what I actually mean is that I jumped on a bus at the airport and 20 minutes later we were at the Biggest Car Park In The World. LAX is a massive airport. After renting the Camaro in Utah, I had decided to rent a cheap little car for the week here. I’d like to say that the woman at the rental desk was an excellent salesperson, capable of selling ice to an eskimo,  but that would be lying … because I buckled at even the slightest prompt of upgrading to a Mustang. I did get a very good rate, in my defence, and when asked what colour I wanted I did go for a plain-ish one. If a little bling.

With some help from friends in the US that either live or have lived in California, I came up with the rough list of destinations. I managed to visit all of them in the week with the basic plan being to drive North from LA using the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH1) up to San Francisco.

• Los Angeles
• Laguna Beach
• Newport Beach
• Huntington Beach
• Venice (Muscle) Beach
• Santa Monica
• Malibu
• Santa Barbara
• Pismo Beach
• Monterey
• Carmel
• Santa Cruz
• San Francisco

On leaving the airport (complete with MASSIVE grin from the Mustang), I drove around pretty aimlessly trying to get my bearings. Realising I was driving in and out of some “interesting” looking neighbourhoods (and not knowing which gang colours I was wearing), I punched “ the Hollywood Sign” into Google Maps on my phone and off I went. Driving around and through LA is pretty crazy; the driving is nothing like here in Indiana. The freeways were some of the busiest, largest roads I’ve ever driven on. In some places I’m pretty sure there were at least 6 lanes of traffic and everyone bumper to bumper. Again in contrast to Indiana the roads were in pretty good condition – even had cats eyes which were very helpful at night! Driving around was very cool; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, there were palm trees everywhere, and the car was awesome.

The drive towards the Hollywood sign took you through some cool looking neighbourhoods as you headed up into the hills. I parked up at a place that, strangely, also offered horse riding at their “ranch”. Pretty bizarre. There’s a long walk up a continuous, winding slope to get anywhere near the sign which, during midday LA heat, was tough going. The view across the city (or part of it) was incredible although a little off putting when you can see the pollution hovering above it like a cloud. The view of the sign was pretty good too.

Before leaving for LA I had also bought a ticket online to go and watch the LA Galaxy at the Home Depot Center. It was a good game (with all the usual American sports event theatrics thrown in) although I refused to celebrate when Robbie Keane scored for LA (being ex Tottenham and all that plus the fact I was wearing an Arsenal shirt). Despite multiple requests from my sisters (and one of their boyfriends) there was no kidnap of David Beckham. Leaving the game that night I headed further south of LA and to Laguna Beach. I wanted to go down to San Diego, but with my relatively short time I didn’t know if I’d be able to squeeze it in; I guess I’ll have to put it on my ‘list’.

LA and Orange County were incredible for car spotting; it just got boring in the end. Ferraris, Aston Martins, Lamborghinis … it was like being at a real world Goodwood Festival of Speed that I attend in the UK. Although some examples did prove that money doesn’t equal taste or class, as this Rolls Royce that I saw proves … It wasn’t all that bad though, as I saw plenty of beautifully cared for old American classics driven by old men with very young looking girlfriends. Speaking of old men with young girlfriends, I tried to find the Playboy mansion whilst I was out there but other than driving to some huge gates where Google said it was, that’s all I saw.

The weather here was amazing, every day being warm sunshine. Which was lucky as the beaches were huge and packed with people surfing, playing volleyball, or posing. Mostly two of those at the same time; the show offs doing all three. When you’re glowing in a UV ray induced bronze and have spent hours in the gym, that’s fine. But I wasn’t and I didn’t. I don’t possess that truly English capability of going bright red in the sun, but I had only been there a day so had some catching up to do. I spent a few days at the beach areas, each one with it’s own character. Newport Beach was really cool; I liked the boardwalk and the pier. I hired a beach cruiser bike for the afternoon and cycled up to Huntingdon Beach and at times I felt like I was in one of the visit California TV adverts as random strangers were high-five-ing me as they rollerbladed, skateboarded, or cycled past in the other direction. All I needed was some random celebrities thrown into the mix.

It’s mostly all true …

Huntingdon Beach is obviously the place to be if you’re an out of work Dr or looking for some evening work, as every small shop on the beach front had a Dr on site that could ‘help’ you with your cannabis prescription; for medicinal use of course. It was a pretty crazy area: I even saw someone dressed in a Santa outfit, just passed out laying on a bench but I wasn’t able to get a photo.

Santa Monica was very nice too, quite expensive, but I loved the pier (which was used in Forest Gump). At night-time, it looked so cool with the fairground all lit up. I also met up with a friend and her family there for the evening, so I saw a familiar face (and got beat by little kids at fairground games!). The beach was massive and a the time I visited it not very busy at all. Moving on from here I went onto Malibu where the sand was seriously white and the ocean ridiculously clear. Compared to any water I’ve ever swam in before, the Pacific Ocean has to be the choppiest, most wavy that I’ve known.

Before hitting Santa Monica, I had gone back into Los Angeles to do the touristy parts of Hollwood and Sunset Boulevard, Rodeo Drive (no I did not feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman), and then Downtown Disney (yes I did feel weird). Rodeo Drive and Beverley Hills matched all the stereotypes that are portrayed in the media; in the couple of hours that I spent walking around the streets laden with designer boutiques, I think I saw at least two women carrying sorry excuses for dogs in their handbags.

To be honest the strangest part of my Disney visit was, strangely, not being a single grown man at a family amusement park but instead my accommodation that night. Now, as I had done in Utah, I had no lodgings booked for my travelling – I was just going to find somewhere each night to sleep. Around Newport, Huntingdon, and Santa Monica I had been really lucky finding great hotels on beach fronts at pretty good rates. However, when I went searching in Anaheim (where Disneyland is) my luck ran out. When the guy at the front desk, standing in his office with bars separating the two of us, tells me that it will cost “$60 for the night, $200 if you want to see the morning” that should really have set my alarm bells ringing. But it didn’t. So I parked the car up, paid my monies, and took my solitary case up to my room where the whole place looked like a crime scene. Adventures are best, right?! This place was so hardcore it didn’t have covers round power outlets (probably ok with wussy American 110v power) and I had a microwave in the bedroom where a TV would normally be.

I think that will do for this post as I’ve written more than I wanted to, so I’ll write the rest of the trip in another entry another time. Even though I was only in the Southern California area for a few days, it’s one of my favourite places I’ve visited in America. Perhaps even the world. It’s definitely up there. And not just because of Katy Perry and her California Gurls …

I’ve got a huge amount of photos of Hollywood and all the beach areas that I went to that I need to upload to my Flickr, so I’ll get on that in the next couple of days too. Bye for now.

Happy Birthday To Me!

This weekend, and like every 29th October, I celebrated a birthday. This year it was my 26th one, so I’m getting pretty good at them now. It was also the 2nd one that I’ve spent here in America! Although it sucks not to be at home with the family, I had a great weekend with all the Americans.

The weekend got off to a great start when my desk/office space was decorated at work and I was brought in a breakfast and several desserts that people had baked for me; this coupled with the donuts will require several trips to the gym this coming week. Perrrrrhaps. Friday night we a small gathering of us went to watch Indiana Ice (my first Ice Hockey game!); I was naively surprised at how cold it was. I mean I understand that it has to be cold for the ice etc etc, but surely a little warming in the stands wouldn’t go a miss? For a country that LITERALLY burns petrol for fun (I have accounts from people that used to when they were younger. True story), I think they could justify heating something up that needs to be cool.

The previous week a big group of friends from work went downtown for a meal to celebrate Tim’s birthday (boyfriend of the American Kim in England), and we kinda tagged my birthday onto it. It was a great meal, the restaurant we went to is famous for it’s shrimp cocktail sauce. It. Was. Mind. Blowing. For me, I don’t even mean that in a good way; my eyes were streaming, nose running and I don’t even want to think about what could have been going on under the table. It turns out the main ingredient of the sauce is horseradish, so that explains a lot. This Saturday, my birthday, I woke up about halfway through the first half of the Chelsea vs Arsenal game … pretty much just in time to see Van Persie’s equaliser. At the final whistle, and having won 3-5, I sent a text message to my Dad to say “I don’t care what’s in this parcel, this day can’t get any better!!”. By the “parcel” I mean the huge delivery that had been made to work earlier during the week. Sent from home, it was like being a little kid again trying to resist the urge to even have a little peek …

The next hour and half was a Skype session with the family back home where I unwrapped food, clothes, tea bags, and other gifts. My favourite being this awesome Arsenal shirt from Mr and Mrs Jay.

After the Skyping, I was due to go out paintballing with some friends from work. I won the first game, which made some stranger playing with us assume I was some kind of awesome as he fist bumped AND high fived me; one or the other, pal. (Un)fortunately my showing in the other games meant we no longer shared any congratulations and he soon tagged on to someone else. Saturday night I had a great meal with friends and then a little outing afterwards.

        

Sunday was the day of rest, and I even had my little birthday cake that was sent over in my parcel …trying to work out how to actually light the candle was an event in itself as my apartment doesn’t have gas and neither did I have a lighter or matches!

Thanks once again to everyone for their birthday messages, cards, and gifts. Also thank you to the Castetter family for including me on their family birthday celebrations a couple of weekends before!

It’s scary to think that I’m now 4 years off 30 …

Summer: Gone

It finally had to happen, but it seems that the warmest, sunniest summer that I have ever experienced is finally over. After gradually building up a steady, healthy glow (not just a semi-burnt “tan” from a 2 week summer holiday in Europe) my skin is already fading back into it’s more traditional pasty appearance. By the time winter gets here I’ll be blending in with the snow again! The summer sun seemed to run from around May (pretty much when I got burnt at the Indy 500) and was in all of it’s shining glory until around September and since then the weather has been, well, rather British. The pool at the apartment neighbourhood has now closed for the season and I’m going to miss coming home from work in the evenings, dumping my stuff at the apartment and then heading over to meet friends there for the evening (the temperature hovering around 30-34 C to late, late in the night).

We’ve had days of sun and warmth that fool you into thinking that maybe, just maybe, it’s not quite over yet but then the rest of the week has been a washout with non-stop rain. I even heard on the TV weather update that there is a possibility of some snow flakes falling in Indianapolis this week; that would be weird!

That said it sounds like the UK has been having an Indian summer; it wasn’t supposed to be this way … give me the sunshine back!

The leaves on most trees have now started turning from their deep, vibrant green into varying shades of browns, yellows, and oranges. The wind has also started to pick up recently, meaning that most of the ground is covered in a sheet of crunchy foliage.

The main problem I see with having all of these leaves on the floor, and especially in autumnal colours, is that it becomes virtually impossible to walk past a “leafed up” area without sh*tting your pants (figuratively) as a giant squirrel jumps out of a pile of them and seems to be heading for your nuts. Especially around here where they are tame and seem to have no fear of humans. I meant the squirrels there, not nuts. Like pretty much everything else in America, squirrels seem to be bigger than their equivalent in the UK; yesterday I saw one out of the corner of my eye and thought it was a stray dog.

Spiders and other creepy crawlies seem to be bigger here too. I’m hoping the colder weather will put an end to one huge spider that seems to enjoy spinning a web across the front door of my apartment, but I wouldn’t count on it. That thing is huge, and at least once a week you’ll see me either pulling cobwebs from my face or pulling some moves a contortionist would be proud of to work my way through the web. I’m hoping that’s the end of the bugs, as it can’t say much for my manliness when you you avoid certain parts of the apartment because you’ve recently trapped a centipede over there or something.

I remember when my sisters and I were younger and dad would always be called to get rid of the bugs for us, but I think these ones would make anyone think twice. If not then it’s something I need to work on. Worryingly I think I’m turning into my dad a few too many years ahead of schedule: I keep finding grey hairs more frequently after every haircut, I’ve been putting a jumper on if I’m cold instead of turning the heating up and, most impressively of all, I’ve started doing DIY around the apartment using a knife as a screwdriver. Actually I think that last point was always mum’s forte, which would normally result in dad having to fix the additional problem with a proper screwdriver.

Although I seemed to have mourned the passing of summer in this post, autumn and winter are actually some of my favourite times of the year. I love the cold, the wrapping up, and being inside and warm when you can hear the weather outside. I just hope the winter this year isn’t as bad as it was last year as I don’t want my flights home for Christmas to be disrupted!

Incidentally, some lucky person will be unwrapping some Boy Scout popcorn this December 25th. Why? The Boy Scouts got me again. Same as this time last year. Except this time they were smarter, coming in pairs (this little chap brought his little sister along) and choosing a day when it was raining and miserable outside just to create the ambience. I’m pretty sure he was even pretending to shake through coldness as he gave me his pen. “I’ll take a bag of the $10 stuff, please”. What else could I say?!

James Jay: Licence to Drive

Last week I took the written test and today it was the turn of the driving part. I didn’t want to get overly confident about passing the test; I know plenty of bad habits that I’ve picked up in the 8 or 9 years that I’ve been driving!! On the other hand, I’ve had a year to witness the standard of driving out here …

I made one huge, major, enormous mistake before I even left the test centre. I was almost in tears, it was terrible, how could I have done something so stupid?! It happened during the eye test and you have to read a string of letters similar to what you’d find at an optician … “GEE, O, PEE, EN, AR, ESS, EM, CEE, ZEE, CUE, DOUBLE-U …” I said, open mouthed – shocked.

ZEE!!

Should be ZED! I feel like I lost some major British points with that.

Once out of the test centre I made my way across to the Impala with the examiner. Firstly she wanted me to demonstrate the function of the indicators/turn signals and the brake lights. I was going to pretend to get into the car on the wrong side, but given my overreaction to the whole ZEE/ZED thing a few minutes earlier I didn’t want her to think she was about to go out in car with an absolute fruitcake. Before we set off, we ran through what was going to happen on the test – luckily it went nothing like the driving test in the Inbetweeners …

Avoided

Apparently the test was going to last around 10 minutes and would take me through neighbourhoods with school zone speed limits and Stop sign, I would also have to demonstrate parallel parking. That’s right – the driving test was going to last TEN minutes. On my first driving test in the UK I think I spent longer than that at one junction waiting to get out of a side road! I was also surprised there would be no route involving a Drive Thru, which is as much a part of driving in the US as being allowed to turn right at a junction on a red light. “Okay then James, I need you to take the next left and then I want you to order a large Big Mac meal with a Coke” … quite lucky really as I’d no doubt fail on the basis that I couldn’t correctly request some tomato ketchup.

The test went without any excitement, and sure enough just over 10 minutes later I rolled back into the test centre car park, “Exceptional driving James, best I’ve ever been a passenger to; you passed!” the examiner confirmed. So we went back inside and I had to hand over all my documentation: Visa, Passport, UK Licence, proof of residency etc. Also had to have my mugshot taken, so no doubt I will now have another piece of ID with a stupid photograph of me on it. It’s interesting that when my height and weight were entered into the database, they were entered on numbers that I told the operator. There was no official tape measure or scales … it’s all done on trust. All I’m saying is I’m going to be the tallest 4’0”, 300lb midget that anyone has ever seen. I even had a mini argument about the colour of my eyes; I always thought they were green but she wanted to put hazel!

That’s pretty much it, I should have the proper licence within the next 10 days or so but in the meantime you’re provided with a printed paper version.

Utahhhhhh

The first stop of my 2011 vacation holiday was to Utah. Now Utah may sound a strange place to want to visit given the other touristy/visitor places to go to in the US, but it was a place that I had kind of hoped to visit at some point in my stay. That or at least one of the other National Park-y type states. Pretty much everybody who I told that I was going to Utah, even only for 2 and a bit days, would kind of look at me with a puzzled expression, “Why?”.

The plan was to fly into Salt Lake City and then head off on my adventures: firstly to the Bonneville and the Salt Flats, and then head down to Moab and the Arches National Park. Now to some people that is going to sound pretty cool, to others I can also imagine that 4 walls of newly applied paint and a few hours to spare sounds far more appealing.

Before I left Indianapolis a group of my friends from work, headed by the newly titled “Crazy Cat Lady”, had given me a list of guidelines to ensure that I wasn’t mugged, raped, murdered or had my lunch money stolen. Some of these were common sense and easy to avoid, whilst other possible scenarios and methods of defence that were apparently possible made me question the mental stability of those that thought them up.

Now, as you can see from the maps below (click on them and it will take you to Google Maps), I was going to be doing a whole lot of moving about. So naturally I needed a car.

With my choice of car, I pretty much went against most of the ‘rules’ that had been given to me and had hired myself a bright yellow Chevrolet Camaro convertible. Nice and inconspicuous. I’ve never been a huge fan of convertibles: partly because I’m a bit of a car geek and think that a removable roof (metal or canvas) spoils the look of the car, and also because the weather in the UK just generally goes against the whole  philosophy of removing the roof from a vehicle. I also hadn’t driven a yellow car since I had the pleasure of owning a Vauxhall Astra Sport which was painted in the imaginatively named ‘Pineapple Yellow’.

After landing in Salt Lake my first stop was to get to my hotel that I’d booked at the airport for the first night. It wasn’t a bad hotel, kind of cheap, but most importantly it had a free shuttle to get me back to the airport in the morning to pick up the rental car. Oh, and it had something resembling a free breakfast.

Collecting the car from the airport went smoothly, although I had to wait 40 minutes as they were trying to ‘find’ the car; how do you lose a bright yellow convertible? After about an hour of driving towards the Salt Flats I pulled over at a rest area and, without the cooling of the wind (had the roof down of course), realised just how hot it was outside. It felt like I was driving towards the centre of the sun! It also felt like my neck had been branded with a hot iron so for the rest of the drive (and until I managed to by sun screen) I kept the roof up and avoided any further sun burn on my first day.

The day that I had at the Salt Flats was incredible. That particular week was actually the World Speed Week (or a similar title), so there would have been plenty of action going on. I got there on the Thursday and, despite there still being two days of the event to go, a lot of the cars had left if they’d been unsuccessful in their class. I still managed to see some racing and cars, but probably not as many as I could have done had I perhaps turned up on the Monday. The whole speed week set up is just spread across the huge expanse of the flats. It’s a pretty weird feeling when you’re standing in the middle of a huge mass of salt with mountains to one side of you and the curvature of the earth to the other, especially when the only sound you can hear is that of rumbling engines.

Now as I’ve already mentioned, a lot of the competitors had already left at this point of the week. This meant that there was no clear designation of which areas were for spectators, competitors, or racing wannabes as everything and everyone was so scattered. I probably drove along the salt for around 2 miles wondering where I should stop, whilst also conscious of the fact that I looked like some special edition Ken (of Barbie fame) in my bright yellow convertible. It just didn’t seem to fit in with all the retro racers that were around the place.

If you click the photo below, it will take you to some of my photographs from that day (and also some from Arches National Park). There were some really cool looking old characters around, ones you could tell that have been going there since the beginning of time. On the other hand, some looked as though they’d tell you all about the experiments the aliens performed on them should you make eye contact with them … I always attract the crazies.

The salt was also great fun for ‘accidently’ burying your foot to the floor and drifting along, rear wheels spinning. So that afternoon I performed by first ever donut (makes a change from eating them). Blame Top Gear; I’m young and impressionable.

Late that afternoon I left the Salt Flats and started the drive down to Moab, stopping to put the roof up or down depending on how much the wind noise was pissing me off. The problem with having the roof up however is that by eliminating the buffeting from the wind, you can hear all the little squeaks that convertibles make. Luckily the car had an iPod input, so I was able to listen to some music I like instead of the country and Jesus fest I had to endure on the trip to Washington.

The drive down to Moab was awesome. As the sunshine was melting into a sunset, the landscape began it’s metamorphosis from the barren, flat land of the Salt Lake area and turned into ‘mountains’ and rocks. I say ‘mountains’, they’re probably not; but when you’ve been living in Indiana for a year and your other major exposure to life has been Norfolk in the UK, even the incline of a wheelchair ramp looks intimidating. The sunlight held out long enough for me to get a good way into the journey, but the darkness soon fell and all I could see were the silhouettes of my ‘mountains’ as a huge lightning storm played itself out across the horizon. This was proper lightning, the sort that David Attenborough should have been narrating on Planet Earth.

I entered Moab at around 9pm at night and was absolutely starving. In my quest of not becoming dehydrated I had bought a 24 pack of water from a grocery store that day but, other than a packet of pizza flavour Pringles and a jumbo US sized KitKat, I hadn’t got any food. Pizza Pringles, by the way, are lethal. Once you pop etc indeed. So anyway, I stopped for some petrol and asked the man and woman behind the counter where would be the best place to get some food. In their attempt at being helpful both to me, and probably the local businesses, they weren’t really very helpful at all. “Pretty much any place on this strip you’re gonna find good food” said the rather portly lady, which I didn’t know how to take as she hardly seemed like she would be the most picky of eaters. I thanked them anyhow and jumped back into the car (roof up) and headed down the main strip through Moab.

I ended up stopping at a relatively legit looking diner, clearly used to serving foreigners as they didn’t bat an eyelid at the accent (!!). They were surprised and showed interest that I was travelling on my own, which I initially found a little unnerving as I began to think this was going to lead to some kind of Saw/II/III/IV/V style torture and massacre. Thankfully my steak and baked potato was served without anymore questioning! I found a little Motel to spend the night, the place was cheap although this was probably due to the fact that they weren’t having to pay for maid service …

I woke up early the next morning and had a surprise when I stepped out of my motel room. The scenery! Moab seemed to be surrounded by the ‘mountains’ that I’d seen many hours earlier, only I could see them clearly now that they weren’t lit up by lightning. As I headed off to Arches National Park, I did what every good (pretend) American does and headed to McDonalds for breakfast, already the sun beating down at such an early time in the morning.

The entrance fee to Arches was very reasonable, around $15 if I remember correctly and it includes maps to help make sure you don’t get lost. The set up of the park is pretty cool; you drive to set points and then you have some trail options to walk to get to the best viewpoints etc. The hike to the Delicate Arch for example, was a real tough one physically. The walk up to it involved navigating a huge incline, the closest thing I can compare it to without being silly being the Travelator from Gladiators. Tough cookie. I thought I was going to collapse at the end of the trek, or at the very least have Kriss Akabusi shouting in my ear.

I was also pretty impressed that I did all the walking and hiking in my flip flops, something I probably wouldn’t do again as some of the trails were challenging with drops that would definitely make you a little bit dead if the worst was to happen. I haven’t told my mum that bit yet, so I’ve probably just earned myself a clip around the ear when I’m next home. Or even worse an “Ohh, tut tut, James” in a way that only Mama Jay can deliver. The views however were worth however many sausages I’m going to be denied at breakfast, as they were simply breathtaking. Here’s a panorama for you …

Arches was an incredibly peaceful place. There was very little noise, and what noise you could hear was provided by either the wind, the birds, other explorers that you’d bump into and have strange conversations with, or, well that was pretty much it. I trekked to one arch and sat alone for around 30 minutes before I saw anybody else, it was amazing. I realise that last line makes me sound like a weirdo, but it was a strange experience. The whole place felt very, very old; it’s no wonder this is one of the major places in the world for finding dinosaur fossils.

By the time the sun began to set I had visited most of the arches within the park and walked an unholy amount of miles. My flip flops had by now became the single most comfortable piece of footwear in the history of the world, but my legs felt like amputation was imminent. It was a welcome relief from both the sun and the exertion to be able to get back into the car and begin the drive back north to Salt Lake and the airport.

That night the drive again was fantastic; the sky was clear, there was no traffic and being a warm night I had the roof down for a little bit. The sky above was pitch black but scattered with some of the clearest stars, and in those few hours of driving I saw 2 or 3 shooting stars. I got back into Salt Lake around 2am and managed to find somewhere on the outskirts of the airport that I could stay the night. The place was cheap and I was amazed they had any rooms left to be honest. The nice old guy behind the counter even gave me all these imaginary discounts for having the US equivalent of RAC cover!

About 8 hours later I was back at the airport and heading onto the next destination for my summer holidays … Goodbye Utah. Thanks for having me.

Random Thoughts On A Year Out Here

31536000 seconds, 525600 minutes, 8760 hours, 365 days, 52 weeks, 12 months, 1 year. Whatever way you look at it I’ve been out here (kind of) a long time.

To put that into perspective, all this happened in that time frame: some miners in Chile were trapped underground for 69 days, Ireland realized that they’d been spending far too much on St Patrick’s day celebrations and had to be bailed out by the EU, there was the terrible earthquake and Tsunami that hit Japan, uprising across the Arab world, everyone in the UK got a day off for some wedding, and Osama Bin Laden’s run for World Hide and Seek Champion was cut short by the A Team (USA, USA, USA!!). Arsenal also decided that they were going to give it a good go at being shittier than Spurs.

Ok in the grand scheme of things it’s not REALLY such a long time and, in general, the time has absolutely flown by. On the other hand I can remember back to when I first landed here, waking up the first morning (back when the apartment was tidy and free from the clutter that I seem to have collected) and feeling totally lost and just wishing I was back home. Even if it was just for the afternoon and to have one final Sunday lunch with my family and to hear my little sister complain of ‘meat sweats’.

Things quickly began to feel more familiar however and soon I was caught up with all my new surroundings and that to everyone I was this new, shiny toy. I guess there aren’t many visitors in Indiana. I’ve since made loads of new friends here and joined a local ‘soccer’ team.

My plan was to always see as much of the country as possible whilst I was here. Looking back at all the major places I have been over the past year, I’ve done pretty well … trips to New York, Chicago, Washington DC, California (Los Angeles and San Francisco, Pacific Coast Highway 1), and Utah (Arches National Park and the Salt Flats). All fantastic trips either travelling by myself or with friends. On top of that you have the celebrations around the US holidays like Thanksgiving and 4^th July (I know, but when in Rome …), where the families of friends I have made here invited me over. Great times.

There are still things that I find hilarious: the American love of cheese and the put-it-on-anything attitude, the complaints about the price of ‘gas’ when it gets to anywhere near $4 a gallon (in the UK it’s roughly $8.50 at the moment). There are things that I love though: the way the flag is flown almost everywhere and the pride that people have in their country (something that perhaps is slowly being eroded in the UK as Political Correctness rules), and most of all I love how open and friendly everybody is. Both locally (and on my travels) I’ve met normal people, relatively normal people, and then people that look like they are waiting for a revival of Bullseye for some 80’s nostalgia; but all have been open, engaging and easy to get along with. Well, I don’t actually include everyone in that statement. Any airport/border security officials are excluded as most look at my Visa as though it was approved by Gary Glitter.

The most amusing thing for me has been that, whenever I go out, most Americans I speak to fail to realize they too have an accent …

Me: “Hi, I’m James”

Person: “Ohh you have an accent!!”

“Ha-ha … yes I do”

“I LOVE it”

“You know, you have an accent too …”

“Do I?!” – you have to see it to appreciate the look of initial amazement.

You can’t make some of it up. I’m still trying to perfect my American accent but I just sound like a pissed off Terminator or Johnny 5. On the other hand most Americans sound like Dick Van Dyke a la Mary Poppins when they whip out the old British accent, so I’d say we’re just about square.

Then you also have the differences between the languages. Well not the languages, really, as they’re supposed to be the same one. Somehow we’ve managed to execute them in two completely different fashions. The whole tomato/tomato thing is widely quoted, but it’s true. The other day at lunch I was at a Chick-fil-a drive through, then came the usual line of “do you want any condiments with your order, sir?” so I asked for some “tomato sauce and some salt, please”. The couple of minutes that followed this simple request were pretty bizarre. The girl that originally asked, well she just walked away, never to return. A boy took over and asked the same question to which I offered the same response. “Sorry? We don’t have that” the young guy said; clearly he’s thinking ‘what the f*** are you on about?!’. So I repeated my request again. A confused look crept across his face … “Ohh you want two mustards and salt!”. At this point I’m looking around for the US equivalent of Jeremy Beadle or whoever to jump out, microphone in hand. But no, he was being serious, “Errr, nope. Tomato sauce; y’know – ketchup?”. And that was when the penny dropped and I finally got my order. I could tell you story after story of similar happenings throughout the year, but it would only bore you. Or me. One of us would get bored either way.

I’ve kind of forgotten where I was heading with this entry, so I think that will do for now.

I’m looking forward to the upcoming year and all the fun that lies ahead, but I can’t wait to see all friends and family back in the UK at Christmas.

American Sports Part IV: Baseball

After watching the US versions of proper football, their version of football, and then basketball I finally got a chance to watch some baseball during the summer months.

The closest thing we have to the baseball in the UK is probably watching paint dry rounders or, if you really squint, cricket. Like American Football the games go on FOREVER, and I was also surprised at how many games there are in a season … the teams seemed to be playing every couple of days. Although I don’t enjoy the game as much as basketball (my favourite US sport so far), actually being at the ballpark is a good day/evening out.

I’ve been to two so far: the Indianapolis Indians at Victory Field and the Chicago Cubs at Wrigley Field. The former representing a newer ballpark; the latter an older, more historic one.

The first Indians game that I went to started off a beautiful early summer evening; it was stupidly hot and humid, we were sat out in the outfield/grass banking, and naturally I was eating a huge portion of fries and a hot dog.

Of course I bought a huge foam hand too. As the game wore on some huge storm clouds came right over, and some flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder added excitement to a game that wasn’t going in any particular direction. Then the rain started to fall and I was amazed that the players were still continuing the game. It looked dangerous with how slippery the grass must have been let alone the lightning that was streaking above our heads. By this time most of the crowd had either left the stadium (textbook fair weather fans!!) or, like us, had ran for cover beneath the main grandstand. After about 20 minutes of persistent rain the players were called off from the pitch and, in scenes identical to rain at Wimbledon, the covers were dragged onto the playing area. Thankfully Cliff Richard didn’t pop us to serenade us.

There is, however, a bit of a sing song that traditionally happens at baseball games … it’s during what is known as “the Seventh Innings Stretch” and the song is “Take Me Out To The Ball Game” – complete with organ! I found the following video on YouTube; unfortunately for you there are no known recordings of my dulcet tones fumbling the lyrics …

Not me …

My trip to Wrigley Field coincided with a weekend trip to Chicago (great city). The ballpark is a beautiful looking sporting arena, something I was able to appreciate even though it was just too hot that day. It was during a spell of intense heat that seemed never ending for a couple of weeks, so I got some nice tan/burn lines.

I liked the fan involvement with the game, the fact that if a ball comes into the stand then you can keep it. It also encourages you to keep watching the game and not to doze off … because that ball would hurt if it hit you. Something that a woman sitting near us can confirm as she was smacked in the face by a ball that was tossed to her son. The boy completely missed the ball that was thrown to him and (I don’t know what the mum was doing) it caught her. I’m ok laughing about it; she was fine. Although I now fully expect baseball karma to smack me with a home run next summer … It also reminded me of the time my youngest sister threw a stone at my dad, from point blank range, whilst at the beach when we were younger. She still claims it was an accident … : )

Indiana State Fair

Each August, the Indiana State Fairgrounds are host to the Indiana State Fair.

The Fair itself runs for over 2 weeks, within that time there are displays of produce, livestock, endless amounts of food to buy and try (surprise), rides and attractions, and also live bands/performances. For a link to some photographs that I snapped on the evening I visited the fair, click the image below!

One of the main reasons for our visit to the Fair was for the food … everyone had told me that this was one of the main reasons to go. Most if it was amazing (pork, steak, and chicken sandwiches), whilst some of it was just weird: donut burgers, deep fried butter, deep fried Oreos, deep fried cookie dough. Apparently they’ve even had deep fried Pepsi before … I still don’t understand how that’s possible. The deep fried cookie dough and Oreos were ok; however the deep fried butter was close to making me throw up. It was terrible!! There is a video that was filmed of me riding a on a mechanical bull in a challenge … but I can’t seem to find it anywhere so you’ll have to use your imagination. Below is the obligatory picture of me eating … a funnel cake this time.

It was an enjoyable evening there, the place full of people and everyone having a great time. Even a freak downpour of rain where it was almost as though somebody had switched on a shower head failed to dampen the enjoyment. The rain came down just as I was in a queue for all the deep fried food!

However, just under a week later there was a freak storm that did ruin the enjoyment of the Fair for almost everybody. On Saturday August 13th, high winds whipped through the main concert stage area at the Fair ultimately bringing about the collapse of the stage. The structure fell onto the crowd that were still gathered at the front of the stage and had not yet moved for shelter from the storm. So far 7 people have died from the incident and there were many more injured. Below are some links to news stories about the incident:

CNN

TheIndyChannel (videos)

I’m glad that I wasn’t at the Fair that night, but watching the coverage on the news it was clear to see how everybody there (the public, emergency services etc) pulled together to try to deal with the situation.

Wow …

Had no idea it had been so long since my last post …

Summer is almost over and I have plenty to update you on; I’ll get onto it this weekend…

I PROMISE.

Before then, I’d like to point you in the direction of my friend Kim. Kim works for the same Company as I do, and will be moving to the UK for 6 months on the same scheme that has sent me over to the colonies … just obviously the other way round. She’s going to be keeping a blog (I’ll take the credit for it…) so make sure you have a read of that too. I’m sure it will be a great read as she discovers the cost of “gas” and, well, pretty much everything in the UK. Not to mention how much smaller things are. Kim, and her boyfriend Tim, are also Gooners (Arsenal fans); so, you know, she’s ok. Good luck, Kim!

http://agirldisplaced.blogspot.com

Happy Birthday America …

Another American holiday: Independence Day! Or 4th July as it seems to be referred to by everybody.

I was lucky enough to use some holiday/vacation time and went to Washington, DC to watch the celebrations. With Washington being the Capital of the US, I figured it would be as good a place as any to go.

Although the flights were cheap enough at about $240 return, I thought it would be a good idea to make a mini road trip of the 1200 miles or so round journey. With the price of petrol as it is over here it probably cost half the price of the flights (if that) to get us there and back. If, however, I factor in the cost of the speeding ticket I picked up in Ohio then it would have been cheaper to fly…

The drive was easy enough the whole way there, the hardest part was trying to keep yourself interested when you’re on the same road for 300 or so miles with barely so much as a bend to make you think. Well, that was the case through Indiana and Ohio. As we passed through West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania there were amazing changes in the landscape. Ohio and Indiana, much like the whole of Norfolk back in the UK, is pretty much flat. Through the proceeding States, the landscape reminded more of scenery that I had seen in Thailand. The weather too was very jungle like; lots of mist and very humid as we drove to higher and higher altitudes.

The whole weekend was great with so many things to see and do. I think I ticked off most of the touristy things; The White House, Capitol Hill, Washington Monument, Jefferson Memorial etc. I was really disappointed to see the famous Reflecting Pool, where Forrest Gump wades through to get to “Jennay”, was just a load of mud and wooden posts as it’s currently being renovated. Also went to the Holocaust museum, which sounds a strange place to go but it was fascinating and I’d recommend anybody to visit.

Click the photo above and it should take you to my Flickr account where you’ll see all the photographs that I uploaded from the trip, including the awesome fireworks show that lasted over 15 minutes. I still think my Dad’s mini pyrotechnics display every 5th November would give them a run for their money … (Americans: Gunpowder Plot 1605 – Google it!!)

Perhaps not a famous landmark in the same sense of the other places I visited, but a trip was made to Ben’s Chili Bowl. This place is famous for it’s chili and all the other food you’d associate with it. Bill Crosby and Barack Obama are some of the famous faces that have eaten there, and their pictures grace the walls inside. It was also featured on the TV show Man Vs Food, which tells you all you need to know about it really. Just to get in there to order there was a huge queue that stretched around the side of the building … something my lower back didn’t need after walking around in flip flops all day in the heat ... Stuart clearly caught the moment, but I WASN’T crying!!

The drive back was so uneventful it doesn’t warrant a comment, other than a pat on the back for successfully avoiding another speeding ticket in Ohio (thank you Mr Cruise Control)!!

The whole weekend was good fun and was great to see the celebrations everywhere, although why anybody would celebrate their independence from Great Britain is beyond me … to paraphrase an Al Murray line: “don’t call it Great f*cking America do they?!” I joke, of course.