There and back again: A neurotic's tale

So it’s over.

Well that sucks.

I write this, my last blog entry, whilst huddled in a large jumper depressingly surveying the grey overcast sky out of my window. Yes. In case you were wondering - I’m back in England.

Just under two months ago, when I had just arrived in the US of A, I wrote a blog entitled ‘What I’ve Learnt’ describing my first impressions of this strange and magnificent country. Now, with a little bit more experience of the place under my belt, I’ll attempt to share what else I’ve learnt along the way. The good and the bad.

1) Americans are not all fat, Jesus-worshipping, thick Republicans.
In fact – they are a pretty awesome nation of people. My highlight of the trip hasn’t been a particularly buzzing city or breathtaking mountaintop view – rather getting to meet all the wonderful Americans along the way. People over here are so unhesitatingly friendly and welcoming. Political and religious beliefs aside, they will go out of their way to be-friend you and help you out. They support your dreams rather than dashing them with cynical remarks, they have a habit of seeing the positive in anything, and they’re not afraid to live life. If music is playing they will dance. If somebody is singing round the campfire they will join in. If they’ve always dreamt of building their own house/raising their own bees/getting a book published/meeting their soulmate etc etc – they will god damn work hard to make sure it happens to them. Now I won’t go over the top here. I’m sure there are some sh*tty people over there – though most of them all appear to be television personalities rather than average Joes on the streets – but we need to cut Americans a break. Hell, we could even learn from them. I know England wouldn’t be England without the misery, the sarcasm and the stiff upper lip but wouldn’t it be great if just every so often someone asked how you were and genuinely cared what the answer was? Or said ‘Sorry’ if they bumped into you on the street? Manners may be extinct this side of the Atlantic, but over the pond they are alive and thriving. So, yes, they may be considering letting Sarah ‘Antichrist’ Palin run for president, but as they attempt to ruin the world they will be positive and polite throughout the whole process. And you’ve got to give them credit for that.

2) The world is going to die – and it’s all America’s fault
Put down your recycling box and sit down and listen to me. There is no point in trying to save the planet. You can cycle, recycle, and compost as much as you want but America will ensure every attempt you make is futile. This is one instance where they really do deserve their awful reputation. For one, walking isn’t even considered an option when deciding how to get from A to B. If you’re going to go anywhere – you go by car. You drive to the supermarket, you drive to church, you drive to get ice-cream – mainly because pedestrianism isn’t catered for. Your life flashes before your eyes if you ever attempt to walk across a road, there is usually no sidewalk anyway, and everywhere is such a vast distance from everywhere else. To make matters worse – there seems to be no awareness of the plight we are in. While it is now commonplace in England to crucify a customer who’s forgotten to bring their own plastic bags, in the USA Rich and I watched open-mouthed as a cashier put two plums into their very own plastic bag. Gas is ridiculously cheap – just over $2 a gallon (so it costs about £15 to fill your tank), and finding a recycling plant is harder than finding a liberal in Texas. Admittedly, California is the exception to the rule and seems to be a little less head-in-the-sand about the melting icecaps. But the state’s efforts are insignificant to the rest of the country’s determination to screw up Mother Nature irreversibly.

3) The roads are good – the drivers are terrible
Considering they spend so much time in their cars, you would assume Americans would be pros at driving them. Instead the opposite is true. Yes – the roads are immaculate and stretch on forever in a Roman-orgasm-inducing straight line. But the unblemished tarmac becomes a perilous gauntlet the moment an American motorist joins you on your journey. Firstly – there is no such thing as lane discipline. They all amble along in their massive trucks doing just over 50mph in each lane. Overtaking is a nightmare. In fact, it’s usually impossible. On the interstate there is only two lanes, and half the time cars are driving alongside each other at an annoyingly slow pace. The only way to get your speedometer past 60 is to tailgate as aggressively as your nerves will allow until the dumb idiot in front of you realises they should pull over. If we could combine English drivers with American roads it would be a very happy union. But until then, anyone who believes driving in the USA is a cinch is very much mistaken.

4) When they’re fat, they’re very very fat….
Let me just get one thing straight – Americans are not half as fat as we believe them to be. Actually, in many states, most people are more anorexicly-inclined. Almost everyone we met were regular hikers, would only eat the smallest amount of carbs, and shopped at health food stores. However…and I think this is where the cliché comes from…when you do stumble across an obese American, they will be the fattest person you have ever seen. It’s like they refuse to half-heatedly overweight. “If I’m going to get fat, I’m going to get fat properly”. And it’s very easy to. One evening, whilst stranded in some nowhere town, Rich and I ventured to the cinema to see Toy Story 3 (which is f*cking brilliant btw). And that’s where we found them all. The fat people. Sheltering in the dark from the new health-conscious country they no longer fit into (literally). And I’m talking staggeringly-obese people. People who needed two chairs people. It’s cruelty really that they were allowed to buy the heart-attack-inducing snacks behind the counter. All of them were buying popcorn buckets the size of small houses – one each, even for their small children. The popcorn was already smothered in artificial neon-yellow butter. I found a tap nearby and went to queue so I could fill up my water bottle. However, when I got near the front of the queue I discovered it wasn’t a water tap, rather a tap that gushed out MELTED BUTTER onto the already-coated popcorn. It was a long queue because each customer was spending a good two-minutes holding their giant popcorn buckets under the tap-of-death until their popcorn was actually swimming in molten lard. THEN, if the snack wasn’t fatal enough, they would pick up a giant salt shaker which was actually filled with sugar, and sprinkle massive clouds of sugar onto their butter bucket. Truly terrifying.

5) If you are a vegetarian you will starve
So I’m aware that I may have whinged slightly about the lack of veggie options already. But seriously, for such a western country, the denial of a vegetarian diet was astounding. On several occasions Rich and I sat down in a restaurant only to discover there was not one thing on the menu we could eat. In one place they had even put beef-filled ravioli into the cream-of-tomato soup. If you are anyway veggie-inclined and you come over here – prepare to lose a lot of weight. Throughout the South and Texas, we survived only on bodybuilding protein bars (which taste like vomit) and this disgusting drink called V8 juice that tastes of cold vegetable soup - but worse. This isn’t the land of freedom. This is the land of steak, with Kentucky fried chicken on the side. I’m aware to most of you this is probably a dream scenario – but I just wanted to pre-warn any fellow veggies wanting to visit the States that New Mexico and California are their only two options if they don’t want to resemble an Ethiopian by the end of their trip.

6) What I’ve learnt about…myself (eww)
At the risk of sounding like some sh*t character out of Dawson’s Creek – I’ve found that travelling does change you. Much as I was determined to not return all full of travel-smugness, it’s kind of impossible not to develop (cringe!) when you embark on a massive trip. Don’t get worried –I’m not about to launch into some prose about the infinity I felt with a sick child as we gazed into each others eyes and realised we were the same…but different. I’ve not got any meaningful (yet ridiculous) tattoos, my hair remains un-dredded, I am happy to admit that I am middle-class and that a lack-of-personal hygiene will not hide this from the world, and England will always be my home and it’s not as screwed up a country as gap-year-students will make you think it to be. However, before this trip, anyone who knows me well is aware of the fact I like to have a “life-plan”. I would panic if I didn’t know what was happening next week, let alone next year, and had my life all carefully mapped out up until the age 45. Well, I’m glad to admit that travelling has forced me to stop being such an anal twat and I’ve learnt to enjoy being young, dumb, and clueless. When covering such a vast distance it was actually impossible to plan further than two days in advance. You’re forced to stay in the moment because the journey is the whole point of a road trip. I’m not going to lie – there were several freakouts along the way. My parents like to remind me of the email I sent them entitled ‘URGENT PLEASE READ THIS NOW!”, where the opening line was “I can’t do this anymore. Rich has locked himself in the bathroom because he hates me so much” (he was actually just having a shower). But you’re forced to adapt and eventually I found being neurotic kind of gets in the way of having fun. So now, here I am, unemployed and back in England. The only thing I know about my future at present is that I’m going to watch ‘Eclipse’ tonight at the cinema. Tomorrow – who knows? And for the first time ever…that’s OK. I’m going to shut up now because I’m actually making myself sick.

So that’s it. That’s America. Thank you for dropping in. And some last words of wisdom….

One last thing I’ve learnt? That going travelling is remarkably easy. The most difficult part is making the decision to go. Once you’ve done that – you’re sorted. So my advice is to anyone toying with the idea is to just DO IT. Have you ever met anyone who’s said “Oh, I really regret travelling”? Ummm – no. Because no-one regrets it. So book it and worry about reality later. And book it sooner rather than later – because the rate these Americans are going there really isn’t going to be a world left to explore for very long.

Over and out

Holly xxx

Be sure to wear flowers in your hair

Coast to coast.

We did it.

Yesterday, after seven weeks on the road, we saw the sea again. And I’m telling you it felt good. I don’t think it’s quite sunk in yet what we’ve achieved. The 4,500 miles of driving has already turned into a messy blur in my memory – but we did it nonetheless – and it’s sad to think we’ll probably never do it again.

I’m aware I’ve not written much recently. We really loved our week in Yosemite but I figured there’s only so much of gushing about the beauty of waterfalls and mountains people can stand.

So now we’re here in San Francisco – on the opposite edge of the country and facing a completely different ocean.

Two things you notice straight away about San Francisco. The first is – it’s very cold here. Sunshine State my arse. I actually checked online and it’s warmer in England. Rich and I have been slowly turning a pale shade of blue ever since we got here as neither of us packed any cold-weather clothes and most of the famous sights are hidden in a thick layer of mist and fog. The second thing – it’s really really hilly here. Honestly your stomach leaves you at the top of every hill you drive down, and walking about is the equivalent to a long session on the lateral thigh trainer.

But weather and steep inclines aside, it’s hard not to fall in love with this city. Maybe it’s the ornate ice-cream coloured houses that line each street, the fact that you’re literally only ever 30 seconds from the best meal of your life, or that there’s a ‘healthy’ tax on things which goes towards providing healthcare for poor people. In any case, the place just has a great vibe and you can see why everyone bangs on about it the way they do.

We arrived yesterday and found driving to be somewhat…challenging. We’ve screwed up our car insurance, i.e. we now don’t have any, which adds this unwanted element of danger to any motoring trip. After collapsing in our motel room and recovering for an hour, we met up with some American friends I know from trips past. It’s actually brilliant being taken around a place by Americans. They go out of their way to ensure you really see everything and you see places you never would have found if left to your own touristy devices. In this instance we checked out the neighbourhood everyone flocked to during the Summer of Love (I’m sure the name would be very useful to know but for the life of me I can’t remember it). Admittedly the hippies with hairstyles adorned with flowers have been replaced by mental-asylum-escapees and drug pushers – but it was great to see somewhere so historical. The homeless people there are also refreshingly honest. Instead of the usual pleading signs saying ‘Vietnam War Vet desperately needs food’, the homeless community in this area just yell at you “GIVE ME SOME MONEY BECAUSE I WANT TO GET DRUNK!”

We were then taken to the Castro (Gay) District to sample what claims to be the best ice-cream in the city. There was a queue out the door so my hopes were set high – and I wasn’t disappointed. If I lived anywhere near the place I would become one of those fat people you need to siphon into a wheelchair using an oar. Burnt Caramel favour or Brown Sugar? Amazing.
Then, with a gigantic food baby, our American friends took us to this bar where they proceeded to completely out-Beer us. Rich and I were shameful and I would like to apologise to our country for letting us down. But there were all these beers, brewed and served in different ways, and we just didn’t understand what to do at all. I immediately let the team down by ordering a glass of red wine, but the bartender obviously deemed that choice to be unacceptable so I was given a glass of something that tasted like bile which is apparently very sophisticated. Rich, bless him, tried harder than me to be a proper English person and tried some mental beer called ‘Blind Pig’ or something. But after just one glass he was asking the Americans what he could order that “tastes most like a Guinness”.

So that was yesterday. Today we’ve been doing the tourist thing. Although the fact both of us have been here before, coupled with the impending sense of dread created by the fact we’re flying home tomorrow, we’ve been pretty blasé about seeing everything. The major attraction on our travel wish list was visiting Alcatraz – so we were really disappointed when we tried to book tickets and discovered it’s fully booked for the next week and a half. Honestly, the place is like an exclusive nightclub now, you practically need to be on a waiting list to get in. Which is ironic considering hundreds of prisoners spent their nights dreaming of busting out of the place. So we spent this morning on Fisherman’s Wharf, staring wistfully at The Rock over the water and telling ourselves it’s probably over expensive and over hyped anyway. We then hopped on the bus to Union Square where I had a very cultural experience at the Chanel cosmetic counter in Macy’s. Mademoiselle lipstick? Sold out practically everywhere? Yeah – I got one! Whoop Whoop. We then clowned around in Chinatown which, surprisingly enough, is really like being in China. Well, despite the vast amounts of stupid white tourists clogging the pavements while they stop to buy an overpriced silk purse.

So that’s San Fran. We’re spending most of tonight packing/crying/slitting our wrists (we also have dinner reservations at a raw food restaurant). And then that’s it. Goodbye America. Hello Unemployment. Where’s Bernard and his bloody watch when you need him?

Lots of love and will be seeing you all soon.

Holly xxx

Ding Dong the dog is dead - well not quite...

OK. So we kinda got rid of the dog…

Don’t panic – we didn’t slaughter the little b*stard but we are now free of it. Thank you Baby Jesus.

I would like to thank you all for your kind words and advice. Some of it was a tad more practical than others. Much as it was tempting to dip the dog in honey and feed it to a Yosemite bear I’m not sure it would have gone down well with my cousin. Unfortunately even the practical advice didn’t help us any. I now consider myself to be somewhat of an expert in dog psychology – but Puck was an enigma. For instance, when I tried to ‘stare him down’ to ‘show my authority in the pack’ he mistook the prolonged eye contact for foreplay and ferociously humped me again. I have the scratches to prove it. In fact, I have been humped by that dog so many times that I should probably count it as a sexual partner the next time I have to fill up one of those questionnaires at the doctors.

So after two and a half days of doggie-hell, my Uncle rang to see how we were holding up. When we revealed (through near-tears) the extent of the drama and how we’ve not slept for over 48 hours he told us he would take Puck to the kennels - making my uncle my new personal hero. I would like to say I felt guilty that poor little Puck was being abandoned – but that would be a lie. Instead I felt like I had just broken free from an abusive relationship.

So now the dog is gone and sleep has FINALLY happened, Rich and I have been free to explore the beauty of Yosemite. God it’s pretty here. You should all come. Now. Despite sleep deprivation we’ve been going on lots of hikes and ooohing and aaahing at the outstanding views. We hiked to Mirror Lake which literally blew my mind. The lake is just like a Mirror (well, d’uh) and I’ve never seen anything like it. Yesterday we rented a raft and floated down the river that runs through the park which was also amazing. And today we hiked the Mist Trail – which means climbing up the side of a waterfall. The spray is so intense that it you’re walking up a stone staircase of rainbows and you get absolutely soaking sopping wet. Brilliant.

So it’s going well and we’re having a great time. The only slight annoyance is the invasion of two very irritating creatures. Mosquitoes and Tourists. I’ll start with the insects. They are mental. They must all have that emotional-over-eating-disorder or something because the moment you step outside you get devoured. Repeatedly. Rich is currently nursing at least 22 bites on his legs alone, and at one point I had one side of my face savaged completely. The bites also have a habit of turning into massive red oozy lumps so for two days I looked exactly like Quasimodo. If I hadn’t done some radical hair readjustment then I’m sure people would have plopped me on top of a waterfall and asked me to ring some bells.

And then there are the tourists. There are so many tourists (yes I know I am one but I’m different I tells ya – DIFFERENT). I wouldn’t mind so much but they are just all so incredibly odd. For instance, today we saw a man with a 360-degree beard, dressed head to toe in Ti-Dye, who had glued a rather large plastic doll to his chest…. I think the average IQ of the tourists here is about 50 and the average weight is about 20 stone – which is odd considering all you really do here is hike which requires not being a whale. Both annoying elements are showcased perfectly on the free shuttle buses you use to get around the park. Americans literally don’t understand public transport. At all. It’s hysterical to watch. They don’t understand the stops, they can’t get their minds round moving down the vessel to let other people on instead they just clamber on and stand right next to the door oblivious to the fact they’re blocking everyone, and when the bus stops they peer curiously at the opening doors and spend about ten minutes working out its time to get off. Honestly, put them on a London tube at rush hour and I think their heads would explode. And yes – a lot of them are very fat. In a way that a)makes me shudder involuntarily and b)makes me sad that they’re living up to the English cliché of American people when I’m so desperate to disprove it. Today on the bus this whale lady came and sat next to me and a giant roll of flab literally flopped onto my lap. The worst part was she was oblivious to this unfortunate even occurring. It’s obviously hard keeping track of that many spare tyres. So I spent the bus journey pinned to my seat by the weight of her flab-roll using all my mental strength not to vomit.

But we’ve worked out that getting up early is a good way of dodging them and we’re still having a marvellous time etc etc. Part of me is dimly aware that this time next week I will be on an aeroplane flying home but I’m trying to stifle this worrying thought. Denial is apparently a very effective coping mechanism, and one that both Rich and I are utilising to its maximum potential.

Anyway so that’s the news. Please don’t judge me for giving up on the dog. And, for future reference, if you have a dog please don’t ever bring it anywhere near me because it’s likely I will try and kill it. In a painful manner. I now officially hate dogs. And always will. Its mini pigs all the way baby.

Love

Holly xxx