I left my heart in San Francisco

Jimi Hendrix's 'All Along the Watchtower' rang in my ears all day yesterday as I explored the birthplace of free love, free sex, free drugs and, well, freedom. In the 1960s and 1970s San Fran was the hub of all things hippie including the 1967 Summer of Love where hippies congregated at Haight-Ashbury Streets and Golden Gate Park to smoke drugs, preach free love and have al fresco sex. This was closely followed by the emergence of the gay right's movement (San Fran is now dubbed the gay capital of the world).

Today hints of San Fran's history are plain to see. Many of the famous Victorian houses that line San Fran's streets are painted in 'psychadelic' bright colours. Haight-Ashbury is still a popular spot for musicians and artists. The long street is jam-packed full of vintage stores, tattoo parlours, drug paraphenelia outlets and music stores. Likewise Golden Gate Park is a popular place to sit and play music, read a book or contemplate the beauty of mother nature.

What I loved about San Francisco is its variety and size. Many of its famous locations are within walking distance from one another, or are easily serviced by buses and cable cars. Thus, one doesn't have to travel far to see all the wonders San Fran has to offer. And there are many wonders. No two block corners are the same.

From shopping mecca Union Square I managed to leisurely stroll through Chinatowown and the Italian district where I stopped for lunch at a delicious Italian cafe and watched the sun-worshippers in nearby Washington Square Park. From there I ambled up what felt like The Steepest Street In The World to the Crookedest Street In The World. A quick cable-car ride later (where I literally hung onto the side like in the movies) and I was in Alamo Square where the famous 'Painted Ladies' reside in all their beauty. A relaxing stroll through Golden Gate's Shakespeare Garden later and I feel like a local.

Something tells me I'll be back.

Vegas Baby

Possibly the most uttered phrase in America- Vegas baby. Now I know why. Despite the fact that Vegas wasn't high on my 'must see' list, I completely and utterly succumbed to Vegas' wiley charms . There's something about the bright lights, gaudy billboards, beautiful people and obvious over-the-top extravagance that is very seductive. The best way to describe Vegas is that it's like Disneyland. With alcohol. Lots of alcohol.

Though I neither drank nor gambled I still felt like a rock-star in Vegas. Take our first night for example. It turns out Ryan's good buddy is the biggest club promoter in Vegas so we were granted free front of line privileges at Cat Club. Women also recieved free champagne all night. Chris had a private booth with free juice and Skyy Vodka. A fat bald man dressed in a suave black suit, he lapped up the attention from the Contiki girls and boasted about how he partied at the Playboy mansion.

The next day I shopped to my heart's content, took a perverse walk through the Bellagio's beautiful lobby (as seen in Ocean's 11) and then spent the ensuing afternoon in the hotel pool with a group of friends. The alcohol flowed, the sun was hot and the music was loud. That night we took in a variety show at Planet Hollywood then stretch-hummered it to the Little White Chapel where our group happily took part in the renewal of Shaun and Paige's wedding vows.

A hummer, a wedding, a club and a pool. That's Vegas Baby.

Goosebumps

You know that feeling when something really great is happening to you but there's also a feeling of sadness because you know it can't last forever? Well that pretty much sums up the past two days. Starting with a hot air balloon ride over the Pheonix desert at sunrise, to watching the sun set over the Grand Canyon. Can life get much better?

There's something quite surreal about floating over the desert in a giant balloon. Being in the desert itself is quite odd. It really does look like the movies complete with cactuses and miles and miles of barren land. While no tumbleweeds blew past, I was waiting...Coming from New Zealand with its lush green pastures and its beautiful beaches, I found it hard to believe a desert could be beautiful, but floating above one, well, its certainly peaceful.

Two hours floating in the air was followed by a champagne breakfast at what was described to us as 'Pheonix's top restaurant'. In reality we ate at a picnic table next to some cactuses after landing (more like crash landing and tipping) quite literally in no-man's land. Champagne has never gone down so good.

After a brief stop in gorgeous Sedona (this was the exact phrase Ryan used and I can quite happily confirm Sedona's gorgeousness) I slept the two-hour drive to the Grand Canyon. After only a four-hour sleep the night before, coupled with the 40 degree heat, I was feeling tired and grumpy. I just wanted to get to the nearest shower and bed.

Ryan had other ideas. Two minutes away from our lodge at the Grand Canyon we stopped in a car-park and walked to what he only described as a look-out point.

I don't think anything has ever overwhelmed me as much as the sight of the Grand Canyon did.

Spine tingling stuff. Exhaustion was immediately forgotten. And the following day was spent exploring as much as possible. Within reason. Every year there is always one person who goes into the canyon and doesn't come back out. Its easy to see why. The Angel Trail we hiked was very deceptive. We trekked forty minutes downhill before realising the walk back uphill wouldn't be as easy (to put it mildly). If I hadn't packed smart the 30 degree heat would certainly have killed me. I went through three litres of water in four hours.

I ended up spending six hours walking in and around the canyon. Savouring every last moment and feeling wistful to only have one day there. The day ended watching a stunning sunset from Hopi Point- a popular point to watch the sun go down. A perfect ending to a perfect day.

Arid zone

This is the english translation of Arizona (Spanish). And arid it certainly is. The mediocre weather we have been having since Saturday has gone from one extreme to the other in the form of 40 degree temperatures.

Our six hour long bus-ride through the desert - six hours to be precise- was rewarded with cold beer on arrival at the Days Inn hotel in Pheonix. Better yet it was served in the pool.

A short time later we participated in the most American activity one could possibly hope to do while in the USA- watch a baseball game. Not only this but we even had hotdogs and beer (yeah okay, I don't normally drink beer but I figured I would get into the spirit of the things), and the largest, most delicious cookie I have ever eaten.

San Diego

San Diego is growing on me. Initially I was disappointed with the coastal city. To me, it looked like another downtown Los Angeles- dirty, littered with homeless people, nothing to really do (unless your interested in the Navy or the Marines, both of which have training grounds in San Diego. Their ships actually dominate San Diego's port).

Today though I practised what Ryan preached- being a traveller, not a tourist.

So I've devoured San Diego's best asset wholeheartedly- the Mexican food. And I'm not just talking nachos. Mexican food largely consists of tacos, burritos, enchiladas, tostadas, fajitas and my new favourite- corn chips with beans, guacamole and spicy sauce. Being on Tijuana's border, hints of Mexico are everywhere, from the cafe's that boast authentic Mexican food and Monday Margerita specials, to the names of it's towns (a la San Miguel).

Likewise, my favorite part of our two days here was this afternoon when we people-watched at Mission Beach (San Diego's answer to LA's renowned Venice Beach) sat on the white sand and, you guessed it, ate Mexican.

And I'll leave you with this.

This margerita was about 700ml and cost me $4.

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It's not bad, it's just different

This is the motto of our tour guide Ryan. He also challenges us to try and be travellers rather than tourists. Tourists take a zillion photos and complain about everything. Travellers immerse themselves in other cultures and put themselves out there.

To be honest, I'm finding it hard to immerse myself in American culture. Bottomless sodas the size of my head? Not bad, just different. Highways with holes in them? Not bad, just different. Fatty food and seedy Spanish men? Not bad, just different.

On the flipside, with San Diego being right on the Mexican border, I am enjoying vast amounts of authentic Mexican food.

The day before

"But we're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy..."

Seal




You're on a swing. You've got your momentum going. You're as high as the creaky chains will allow, you don't even need to push your legs anymore. The wind is in your hair and you feel light as a feather. Suddenly you're too high, too fast. Instinctively you put your feet on the ground as if to break but you're travelling too fast and inevitably your legs skid along the bark making a loud scraping noise. For what seems like forever you're in limbo, sliding, unable to fully apply the brakes.

For the past week I have been on the proverbial swing, my final destination approaching rapidly, me powerless to slow down the descent. The last few days have been filled with the odd feeling of un-employment, final farewells, bottomless to-do lists, the dreaded packing process and major 'what ifs' and 'how to's.

Packing has culminated in a frustrating cycle of packing, weighing, un-packing, re-packing, re-weighing and discovering the suitcase weighs more than ever before. And of course the vicious cycle only provokes the more inane thoughts floating at the forefront of my mind. For example, sure it may seem ridiculous now to pack two face-scrubs, three day creams and no less than three billion mini shampoos and conditioners, but my inate thriftiness (or stinginess) has pointed out that the last thing I'll want to be spending my precious pounds on is toiletries after leaving an arsenal of products at home. Practicality will surely intervene anytime soon. Surely.

And despite the fact that my suitcase is practically bursting at the seams, my room still looks the same. Books are still on shelves, DVDs are on top of the TV, Vanity Fair and Vogue are still messily stacked as if the reader will be back at any minute. Favourite photos are still in frames. This pains me. To be unable to transport all my creature comforts at a time when everything will be so unfamiliar is driving a wedge through my heart.

Buy new books, take new photos, collect other magazines my head says. It is supposed to be a new life after all. Suddenly the old life doesn't seem so bad. Suddenly staying at home, in bed, sounds like the proper solution to everything. Flying to the other side of the world to start a new life? Crazy. What was I thinking.


Ladies and gentleman of the jury, I am going to be cheesy and lazy and finish with lyrics from my favourite travel song. Wish me luck.


Maybe Tomorrow- Stereophonics

I've been down and I'm wondering why
these little black clouds keep walking around with me

It wastes time and I'd rather be high
think i'll walk me outside and buy a rainbow smile
but be free
they're all free

So maybe tomorrow I'll find my way home
So maybe tomorrow I'll find my way home

I look around at a beautiful life
been the upperside of down
been the inside of out
but we breathe
we breathe

I wanna breeze and an open mind
I wanna swim in the ocean
wanna take my time for me
oh me

So maybe tomorrow I'll find my way home...