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 Admittedly the hippies with hairstyles adorned with flowers have been replaced by mental-asylum-escapees and drug pushers – but it was great to see somewhere so historical.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
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