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

We made it

We did it! (I was always taught at uni never to use exclamation marks but feel this is bloody well the right occasion for one).

After four thousand of miles, twenty-four different beds, nine different states, dozens of disgusting toilet experiences and one minor near-death-experience – we are finally here. In Yosemite National Park.

I have been internetless for a while so will try and fill you in on the interesting bits.

On Wednesday morning we left the shining lights and porn-filled streets of Vegas to start our two-day journey to Yosemite. We decided we had had enough of the bloody freeway so took the most direct, but slower, route through Death Valley which was an entirely odd experience. It’s a national park that’s famous for being completely barren – which made for a surreal driving day. The only way I can think to describe the place as it’s like in ‘The Neverending Story’ when that storm of nothingness slowly destroys the magical planet. The roads were pretty strenuous as well. You go from below sea level to 6,000 feet in a matter of miles as you navigate your way through severely winded narrow roads with vertigo-inducing drops on either side. The worst part was that we had to turn off our air conditioning to stop the engine from overheating…and Death Valley has the highest recorded temperatures in the USA. Rich and I almost melted and produced a disgusting amount of sweat from all sorts of surprising areas. Sweaty knee-pits anyone? Lovely juvley.

After another day’s driving we arrived at the beautiful Yosemite. We came in through Tioga Pass – which was still covered in snow and the scenery was breathtaking. We finally met up with my dad, uncle and cousins ready for my cousin’s wedding. I still can’t believe we made it in time.

Can I just say that weddings in America are wicked? You can get married anywhere you like by whoever you like. So in this instance my cousin got married right in the middle of Yosemite by her husband’s sister. Certainly beats the pretend-to-be-religious-or-pay-through-the-nose-for-a-pretty-venue decision brides face in Britain.

So with all the wedding hijinks over it was supposed to be the time to relax and enjoy our achievement. Rich and I are housesitting for my cousin in her detatched cabin right in the heart of Yosemite valley whilst she's on her honeymoon. Very calming. Or so we thought….

Unfortunately we are also dogsitting for her. And to say her dog is a handful is a little bit like saying Kerry Katona is a little common. It’s called Puck, but we’re considering renaming it Lucifer. It’s amazing how something so small can cause quite so much trouble. We were warned he was a little high-maintenance but only heard the words “free cabin in Yosemite Valley” and nodded enthusiastically. We moved in yesterday and haven’t slept since we got here. This is a run down of how the dog has kicked our asses in less time then it takes for the world to rotate once…

1) We went out to buy groceries for less than TWENTY minutes – in which time Puck managed to open my suitcase with his snout, and then find and eat an entire packet of Pistachio nuts and two protein bars whilst simultaneously trashing the place. Now the excess in protein has given him diarrhoea and he keeps doing giant and very unpleasant poos all over the park.

2) Puck seems to find my leg very attractive indeed. And for a creature so small he would make a very successful rapist. I have been violated on several occasions and when Rich tries to pull him off he gets a good humping as punishment. So technically we have both been raped and violated by a tiny dog. That wasn’t something on the holiday to-do list.

3) After his failed humping attempts, Lucifer….sorry I mean Puck….vents his frustration by attacking all the wedding presents. Before demanding to be let out in the yard to do yet another protein-bar-induced poo.

4) At night time Puck doesn’t deem in necessary for anyone to have any sleep. So every five minutes from before 2am this morning until 7am he found it appropriate to catapult himself onto our sleeping bodies and blow dog breath in our face to wake us up. When we tried to lock him out of the bedroom to stop this behaviour he responded by howling like crazy and clawing at the door relentlessly. Rich and I were supposed to be hiking up the side of a waterfall today but we are too tired to move from the sofa and have spent our time planning how to accidentally drop the dog over the side of a waterfall instead.


So anyone who may have been jealous about our Yosemite set-up can be rest assured that we’re far from having a fabulous time. I am, at this moment, supposed to be at an elevation of over 4,000 feet watching water cascade over the edge of an amazing waterfall…..instead I have joined a website called ‘PetForums’ to beg web-savvy doglovers for advice. That I suppose is what you call karmic balance. The only redeeming part of the situation is that Puck doesn’t respond to English accents so Rich and I have to speak to him with American voices. Which is quite entertaining to witness when Rich is proper losing his temper but, at the same time, sounding like a character from ‘American Pie’.

So that’s the news. Anyone with the vaguest knowledge of dog-behaviour tricks who might know how we could get some sleep without resorting to homicidal behaviour please tell me what to do. That said, the dog is pretty cute when it’s not being a total psychopath.

Lots of love

A very sleep deprived Holly.

xxx

The Vegas

Viva Las Vegas?

Err....I'd rather not. Sorry Elvis.

OK OK so I'm a boring person. Shoot me. Or shoot me up with something - but I'm afraid I'm not a big fan of the Vegas. It's been fun. But probably never again.

That's not to say the place isn't extraordinary. We drove here yesterday from Arizona, pretending to be Hunter S Thompson through the more deserty parts, and arrived at around 3pm. That's the first thing you notice about The Vegas. It is literally in the middle of nowhere. I'm not quite sure what logic was behind building a massive leisure facility in such an uninhabitable place - but you really are out in the sticks. You drive for hours through nothingness, praying your car doesn't break down, and suddenly the Strip appears on the horizon like a mirage exposing all of its neon crudeness.

The next big thing you notice about The Vegas. It is hot. Like, unnaturally hot. You feel like you're melting like a wax candle the moment you step outside. When you look out the car window the view is actually wobbling in the heat. Sightseeing is near-impossible until after 6pm. We spent most of today near the safe cool haven of the pool - and it was so hot it actually melted THE SPINE OF MY BOOK so all the pages fell out.

So we've spent two nights doing all the things you're supposed to do. It's an odd experience because you've seen the hotels and landmarks so many times on films and tv that seeing them in real-life takes an edge off the wow factor. But there's certainly a lot to look at. Yesterday we hit Ceasers Palace, Paris, New York New York, and the Bellagio. Your mouth does fall open when you get up close and get a sense of a mass scale of the place - and exploring the outside of the hotels can be a pastime in itself. However the insides are disappointingly...similar. Yeah, in Ceasers Palace there's the odd statue and interesting sh*t on the ceiling - but slot machines are still slot machines, gross old gambling addicts are still gross old gambling addicts, and slaggy looking white trash girls are still slaggy looking white trash girls. It's hard to remember which casino you're in.

We spent tonight exploring the indoor canal of the Venetian, having a Chanel handbag taken out of my hands in a designer boutique (they could obviously tell I didn't have any money and therefore just snatched it away like a strict mother - I felt like Julia Roberts in 'Pretty Woman'), saw the giant artificial mountain they've built recently, and watched the Pirate show outside Treasure Island which really should be re-named 'The Pirate Porn Show' because it merely consisted of past-it slappers in bikinis writhing around on a pirate ship like porn stars whilst confused parents covered the eyes of their bewildered children.

And I think that's what I dislike about Vegas. Yeah it's huge. Yeah you can have a lot of fun here. But there's this unavoidable seediness about the place that leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Walking from hotel to hotel becomes a artform and you have to dodge and duck like a boxer whilst making your way through, what I like to call, the many 'Porn Gauntlets'. As you navigate the insane pedestrian traffic it's impossible to avoid the hundreds of workers wearing tee-shirts emblazoned with 'GIRLZ DIRECT 2 U' who shove postcards of women pleasuring themselves into your hands. And, despite everything being vast and sensational, the whole Strip just seems entirely pointless. I mean, do we really need to build a pyramid with a beam of light that can be seen from space? Is it essential to build a replica Statue of Liberty? And is it useful to put a Lion in a casino? I dunno. Maybe I'm a killjoy, and I've always been more of a neurotic than a hedonist, but I just don't get it.

I think a huge contributing factor could be that The Vegas isn't somewhere to go when you're broke. We're staying in a hotel off the Strip and can't even afford the bus fare in - so have to brave the heat and walk. This morning I woke up to find a cockroach in my bed, which was so unbelievably awful words can't even describe it. Everything we wanted to do - we can't afford. Going up to the top of the Stratosphere will cost $35. Tickets to see a show cost £100 each. They don't even let you put quarters in the slot machines anymore - they've made them notes only. Hell - I can't even window shop in Chanel without being treated like a common criminal.

So I don't like Vegas. No doubt you'll come here and you'll love it. And you'll think 'Oh my God that Holly Thompson is so BORING. I can't believe she doesn't like having free porn thrust upon her.' And hey - that's your choice. But I, for one, don't think I will be making a return journey. Well, unless I win the lottery (which will be hard because I don't play it) and then I can return and go into Chanel decked out in designer gear and be rude to the shop assistant.

We leave tomorrow. It's a two day drive to Yosemite. And that's it. Road trip is over. Wow. We'll spend a week and a half in the National Park, then it's onto San Francisco and home... Mental stuff.

So I better go and check the room for cockroaches. Again. And then probably again. And then I might shower. Again. And spray some more antibacterial spray around again.


Love

Holly xxx

Getting spiritual (and aggressive) in Sedona

Sedona.

Wow man. The energy of this place is just, like, awesome. I just feel so totally rejuvenated by the spirituality of the place. Yesterday I hiked up this mountain and I, like, totally realised how, like, truly insignificant I am in the vast chasms of time. And it was, like, completely humbling but also, you know, like totally comforting at the same time. And I just, like, realised just how totally incredible nature is and the world is just, like, so completely beautiful and we all need to worship it, and run around naked, and sweat without washing and then, like totally, hump each other....

ONLY JOKING!!!

I'm in Sedona, Arizona - mecca for New-Age mentalists who believe the red rocks here have rejuvenating powers and pilgrimage here so they can all act like total funny-farm-residents together.

The truth? The place is beautiful. And if you can bypass the weirdos it's definitely worth a visit.

Yesterday, with two determinedly open minds, Rich and I decided to hike to one of the famous 'Vortexes' of the place. I can't remember if I explained before, but basically people in Sedona believe there are four vortexes (like tornadoes but safer and cheerier) in the area, that upon visiting will fill you with euphoria and contentment for several days afterwards.

Us being us - we decided to pick the most difficult one to get to. Cathedral Rock. Mainly because it looked pretty on Google images. The vortex is apparently right underneath the base of the rock which you have to hike/climb to. All the websites had warnings saying stuff like 'This hike is very strenuous and dangerous' or 'Don't do this if you are scared of heights', and 'in less than a mile you go up in serious altitude and lots of people can't handle it'. Us being us - sniffed at this - and assumed the warnings were probably written by lazy obese Americans who only found it hard because they couldn't drive there and there wasn't a MacDonald's at the top.

So, in the heat of the day, we drove up to the trail starting line. And promptly gulped. There was another warning sign. This time written by Red Rock park officials telling us the hike was difficult. And Cathedral Rock looked very far away. And its base seemed very high off the ground. But we decided to see how far we could go....

It seems strenuous exercise isn't conducive to a happy relationship...

For the first five/ten minutes Rich and I got on swimmingly. We strode along, holding hands, stopping to admire the view, and smugly telling each other how beautiful it was and how we were so glad we came...

...Then we were faced with climbing (not hiking, CLIMBING) to the summit up a sheer cliff face. We had already drunk most of our water. And the arguments started.

Me: Do you mind if we stop again? My lungs might actually be collapsing.
Rich: No - it's fine. I don't mind.
Me: Well why don't you sit down with me?
Rich: I don't want to sit down.
Me: So you do mind stopping? You think I'm lazy don't you? You don't fancy me because my lack of fitness repulses you - doesn't it?
Rich: I don't mind. I just don't' want to sit.
Me: I don't mind if you do mind...I just want you to be honest with me.
Rich: I am being honest with you.
Me: Then why aren't you sitting with me?
etc etc

And then...
Me: I can't believe you didn't bring climbing shoes...
Rich: Was I supposed to have brought climbing shoes?
Me: Of course. God, if I had known you had only brought your old trainers with no grip I would have had a go at you.
Rich: You're having a go at me now...
Me: Well I want to go to the top.
Rich: I don't think we can - it's too dangerous.
Me: It's only dangerous for you because your wearing your stupid shoes and you didn't bring climbing shoes.
etc etc

And then when we finally reached the top....
Me: Let's go over there and explore that part.
Rich: It's too dangerous.
Me: No it's not. It's part of the trail.
Rich: I don't see the trail.
Me: It's blatantly part of the trail. I want to go see it.
Rich: I'm not going. It's too dangerous.
Me: . Well I'm going. If it's too dangerous for you, you can just wait for me here.
Rich: **###&&&*** .

(Can I point out that I'm not usually such a psycho. And we've gone a month without arguing and it WAS really really hot - and he WAS wearing stupid shoes!)

But it was worth the bickering, the dehydration, and the vertigo. When we got to the top it was just incredible. The view was insane and the red-rocks just look like they're painted onto a background. We did notice there was a strong wind and stood in it to see what happened. To be honest, it did feel good. But that was because it was a strong breeze in 100f heat. And I don't really understand why having wind blow hard beneath a tall object makes it a vortex and not just science? It was just the same as the breeze you got outside the bottom of the Arts Tower in Sheffield - and you didn't see bangle-adorned hippy mentalists hiking through the Union to worship the bottom of the Arts Tower. Well, OK, apart from the odd stoned Philosophy student.

SO that was yesterday. Today we had even more fun. Without the bickering. We spent the day at Slide Rock State Park - which I can only describe as a massive outdoor version of the rapids at Centre Parcs. It's a river made from melted snow (so the water is freezing!) that has churned out all these natural water chutes, rapids, and deep diving points out of the rock. The place was packed full of the happiest group of people I have ever seen. Men, women, children, grandmas, grandpas, were all hurtling themselves down the water using only their bodies with giant grins plastered across their faces. Rich and I managed to drum up the courage to jump off a pretty-high rock into the freezing water below - but were too scared to go tombstoning. The rapids were so so much fun. As I said, like Centre Parcs, but about a mile long and real - not made from plastic.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really quite liked Sedona. It's funny how it's been working out. All the places I think I'll love - I usually don't like very much. And all the places I'm sceptical about turn out to be wicked. But I'll be glad to get away from the place after seeing in a real pharmacy them recommending the use of a PILLOW MADE FROM SAGE to cure headaches. What's wrong with four Nurofen washed down with a whiskey? Bloody hippies.

Tomorrow we start the two-day drive to Vegas. I'm slightly concerned about Vegas. Mainly because I've made the mistake of starting the second 'Girl With Dragon Tattoo' book and now resent having to do anything in life that isn't reading it. Which reminds me - I need to find out what happens!

Peace, love, and sloshings of bulls*it

Holly

xxx

Holy cow - it's the Grand Canyon

"Is it bad that I'm not that bothered about seeing it?" I asked Rich yesterday.

"I mean, I know everyone raves on about it, and I know it will probably be amazing - but it just seems like a massive windup."

Let me just tell you one thing. When people bang on about how awesome the Grand Canyon is.... let them drone on. They're completely justified. Go and see it. I don't want to hear your excuses. Just go and see it now before you DIE.

I admit I was rather reluctant about going. I mean, OF COURSE, we were going to go to the Grand Canyon on our road trip. It's like the law. It's just what you do. But I wasn't particularly excited. How good can a pile of rocks be? There wasn't even a 3D cinema.

To make matters worse, because the place is such a mahoosive big deal, going there is a giant mission. We were warned crowds would be terrible, that we would die of old age before we found a parking place, that all your photos would be taken over pushy tourists heads.

So it was to my surprise that I found myself waking up at 5am this morning to go somewhere I wasn't particularly interested in. 5am? The last time I got up that early was to queue up for the £5 Anna Hindmarsh bags at Sainsburys.

But thank the Baby Jesus we did. We arrived just after 6am and found the place blissfully peaceful. Nothing can prepare you for seeing the place. No photographs, no films, no crappy bloggers pathetic attempt at description. When you catch your first glimpse through the pine trees your mouth literally drops open. Uncontrollably. Like you've just watched that scene in Speed for the first time when Keanu is hanging under the bus, his white tank top splattered with oil and his biceps bulging.... Basically the Grand Canyon is like the Keanu of nature. Excellent.

Again, Americans seem very laid back about letting tourists explore. You can easily scramble over rocks and hang your legs over tummy-wrenchingly-steep drops for the best photos. And dear lord do you take a lot of photos. Every single view from every single place you stand is so jaw-droppingly awesome that you develop some kind of photo-taking OCD. Unfortunately, this morning I woke up with special gravity-defying hair and my eyebrows have appeared to be bleached off by the sun. So in all my photos - which will no doubt be framed on the mantelpiece for my entire lifetime - I look like the baby from Family Guy if he'd just put his fingers into a live socket.

Due to our early-rising antics, Rich and I had a good hour or two where we had the place pretty much to ourselves. We hiked about 5 miles across the rim - stopping to take many ridiculous photographs. Yes, I admit, there is one of me pretending to be Mufussa from the Lion King roaring on a makeshift Pride Rock. But by 9am the place was completely packed and you felt like you were at Disney Land. There was a remarkable amount of fat people there as well. Definitely the largest mass-obese-sighting we've seen since we got here. Perhaps they all come to the Canyon so they can stand next to it and feel thinner?

We left after about 6 hours and returned to our cute little hotel in Williams, Arizona. It's a genuine Route 66 town and great fun. Classic cars pour through the narrow streets, stopping for pizza or a place to sleep. The hotel we're staying at is the oldest in the whole state and we've got this darling (and surprisingly cheap) room that overlooks the road so we can watch all the 66-pilgrimagers rattle by.

Tomorrow we head to Sedona - which we're both quite appehensive about. It's famous for it's red rocks and supposed to be beautiful. But the place also attracts people (mentalists) from all over the world who believe the town has 'energy vortexes' hidden in the landscape that transport you to a genuine and long-lasting state of euphoria. I think it's going to be a bit hoovy-groovy and bollocksy - but hopefully with nice views. Apparently you can only experience the intense euphoria of the vortex if you are 'spiritually open' - and as Rich and I are about as spiritual as a ferret we think we're going to spend most of the time laughing at people.

So that's the Grand Canyon. Don't suppose there's much you can say about it other than the usual cliches... It's beautiful. It's intimidating. It's awesome. And you absolutely positively have to go and see it for yourself.

Peace out

Holly xxxx