Trekin'

Well I have reached the end of my main blog output....I leave at 530am for the trek tomorrow and it is unlikely I will get onto a computer very often in the next 14 days. However, upon my return, I will publish some pieces which I have started work on but not yet finished....so lots more to come!

Thank you to all those who have been keeping up so far, it's great to have all the input....the more the merrier!

See you all soon

Jack

PhotoBlog

OK, i have uploaded about 7 photos, it's a start but that may be it for a while....they are just give you an idea of what is to come...

De-Clog Blog

OK, waited for it to drain while writing that last blog, and it didn't. i couldn't flush it again for fear it would over-flow and flood thier basement with shitty water. id never be welcome again i fear.

well you will be relieved to know i have sorted it. it got messy....i even went down to the basement to look for a plunger and found a loo brush (and some nasty spiders)

I had to leave a sign on the door of the toilet saying 'please do not use' in case Betty came down. all the time in the basement i was panicking that Betty would start coming down the stairs. she only bloody did....

there i was sprinting up from the basement wielding a loo brush shouting 'noooooo' in a dramatic cinematic style....

I'm surprised she didn't have a heart attack


anyway, i plunged like a MoFo and cleared it away....i have never been so happy to see a clear toilet

damn you all you can eat crab.....damn you for tasting so good

Emergency Log Blog

Ok, its 1am in mike and Reba's house and I have a big problem. I went for an all you can eat crab and salmon today....really rich food....

it kinda went right through me.

well I just had to take a poopie and I blocked their loo.

I mean one BIG pan blocker (American sewers are really narrow, like those of turkey where you cant flush paper....)

the urgency is because it's about 5 min until the mother in law usually comes down for a wee....

its backed right up and i'm shitting it (if you will excuse the pun)

any suggestions, blog now..... please

Jack (I got the keyboard a bit messy typing this)

XXL-Ray

There was a news item on Fox today....

People in America are getting so fat that they can't fit in X-ray machines. As a temporary solution, some patients are being sent to vetenary practices, where they can fit in the hippo boxes and get X-rayd

how embarrassing would that be....

hey honey....How did it go at the Vets today?

Golden Eye (Octopussy)

George Orwell once wrote that

'a toad has about the most beautiful eye of any living creature. It is like gold, or more exactly it is like the golden-coloured semi-precious stone which one sometimes sees in signet-rings, and which I think is called a chrysoberyl'

I wouldn't mind betting that when George Orwell wrote this, he had never starred at an Octopus straight in the eye. I was privileged enough today to visit Seattle Aquarium, where they have the largest Octopus in the world living underneath the very aquarium in the sea (Giant Pacific.....18ft and up). There were two octopus on display, both had just been moved into their new tanks and as a result were curious to explore their new environment. These animals have an intelligence comparable to dogs, so need constant mental stimulation. A new tank is an exiting thing! Anyway, Octopus have an amazing ability to change colour, basically by controlling how much red pigment is released to the surface of their skin...but interestingly today I noticed it was not just their skin, but also their eyes.

The eye of an octopus is one that looks right back at you, with an equally inquisitive look. The pupil itself is rectangular, similar to a goat's eye, yet their is no malevolence in the eye of an octopus. The colouring around the pupil is similar to bronze or other atomised metals such as platinum which have been sprayed as a mist into liquid glass. Not only is this amazing colour always flashing at you, but there is a deep speckled red in this texture too, which pulses in and out, according to the mood of the creature. It is however, very subtle, and if you look close enough, you can see the gentle mist of colour flow through their eyes in time with their triple heart beat as the look right back at you.

I sometimes wonder what they are thinking about me. Probably something like 'I wonder how tasty his big brain is' and 'how hard would it be to crack into it and suck it out.......mmmmm brains.....'

Something like that probably.

Don't be disrespecting me (biatch)

So me and Hannah are in Tacoma now. It's good to be here staying with Mike and Reba again. They are such lovely people and excellent hosts. For readers who don't know, Mike and Reba met my parents when they were out hitchhiking over 30 years ago, they have stayed in touch since. This is a long blog, so I tried to make it funny, it helped me get through it.....don't feel you have to....I understand......:(

Anyway, since my last blog I have slept very little. In my whole time in the US, I have never felt physically threatened, I have watched tramps fighting at 4am in SanFran and been shadowed by drug dealers in downtown LA, but never felt in danger of physical violence. So this is the story of how tiredness can nearly land you with an LA bus driver's boot up your ass, but in the end, how I'm always right, even when I'm wrong.

While the fishing trip I did was great, you have to realise that I had got up at 4am that morning (having gone to bed at 12:30am). I had fished from 6am until 4pm, and then walked back up hill (I mean, San Fran hills.....) to the hostel. That night/morning at 1am we went to the greyhound station, this time unaccompanied by a smelly tramp (see You can have my money...when I finally publish it). We then bussed it ALL the way from SanFran to Tacoma in one. Check it on a map, that's pretty much Loughborough to Rome by bus....(and I have done that). We were scheduled to arrive in Tacoma that day at 9pm. We had a few midnight changes, the kind where you wake up, hear a place you're going to followed by a number, grab your bag, look for that number, walk to it, wait, show a ticket and get back on another seat and sleep. No one talks, and sometimes it feels just like a dream, with a few random tramps in it. Well we were waiting at this one stop, and our soon to be driver said 'you guys don't talk much' while he checked our ticket. Well we were instantly defensive, explaining that we had been up for to long (It being a 3am change and all....). Turns out he just wanted to offer us the front seat next to him, so we wouldn't 'disturb him with our yakking'. Great! A seat together and we were last in the que! There is NOTHING worse than a 10 hour coach journey next to a fat smelly person you don't know....it's bad enough if you do know them, but at least you can lean on their shoulder and dribble without causing offense. I think I really worried this one fat woman...she told me she was running away from her husband....the next thing she knew, my head was asleep on her shoulder, accompanied by a sympathetic pool of my dribble. I hope she didn't think I was making my moves on her, not that there's much difference between my moves and me just dribbling on someone. For the perplexed among you, I have always dribbled in my sleep....I have come to accept there is nothing I can do about it....the audiotapes didn't work and the 'Dry Nights Self-Help' book suggested I wear rubber pants....I don't think the librarian understood me.

Anyway, it was at one of those ungodly hours and we had a stop in the back end of nowhere, round the corner from Assvile and just down the road from Gene-Pool Creek, the kind of place where a bus arrival makes news. Up until now, we had had the model of a greyhound driver. He was polite, punctual and proudly wore several gold (plastic imitation) badges awarded to him by GreyHound for his service. He also wore a standard issue Greyhound torch on his Bus Driver Utility Belt (Order yours now in time for Christmas) and a side parting you couldn't fault. I imagine his badges were awarded for things such as Politeness, Punctuality and superb attention to Hair Presentation. I think he was the kind of guy that would have been the star-kid at scout camp, and once into the real world, realised he couldn't live without someone giving him badges every time he wiped his ass successfully. Maybe that's unfair...anyway....the model driver left us in this inbred backwater at 6:30am as his clock was full. So there we were, a bus load of tired passengers, removed from our bus for 'cleaning', which was actually a euphemism for rummaging through our bags and replacing the toilet role in the 'toilet' which was apparently supplied for 'our convenience'.

That's what I love about America. Everything is for 'your convenience' not theirs. What bullshit!!

I know for a fact it's more convenient for them to supply a toilet because it's much more 'convenient' to have one guy plug a hose into the back of a bus every 100 miles than go around on hands and knees turd spotting. It's far easier, and 'convenient' for me to drop my mess wherever I happen to be on the bus and so much harder for them to remove it from the windscreen, or wherever it may have lodged during an emergency stop. You see, it's a brilliant lie they have created to make you think they are serving you, when it fact, you are serving them. This goes right to the top in America. It's the whole 'Have a nice day' crock of shit that started sometime after sales teams realised you could train politeness. You KNOW they don't care behind that till. They know you know they don't care. No one cares about anyone, we get that. But no, the Americans had to go and just pretend, because it spreads goodwill and kindness.....baa humbug. Damn you Walt Disney.

oooooooooooook

PART II

That was a tangent and a half. Hope I didn't dent the American dream too much there. So anyway, this model bus driver has left us (who, by the way, was raised polite and not taught it during a half-hour sales team video in between 'Health and Safety' and 'How to Wipe Your Arse'). The next driver however, was a very different breed all together.

He was driven in half an hour late by his wife in front of a bus load of heat exhausted passengers, desperate to get back on the bus where all out food and belongings were. We all rushed him as he strutted to the bus we and were promptly told to go and wait in the bus station until we were 'called to out boarding gate'....oh how glamorous can you make a coach sound....

Anyway, me being me, I wasn't really in the mood for all this power-trip petit bureaucrat guff and wanted to check that our water bottles hadn't been thrown away during the bus 'cleaning'. I explained to the driver that it was five hours until the next stop and wanted to know if we needed to buy some more water, in case ours had been thrown away. He looked at me, and I knew he hadn't listened to a word I had said. I politely explained my seat was just above the stairs, I wouldn't need to go into the bus, just peer over and check.

'NO' he bellowed......'OK' I said. The second he turned his back, I just quickly whipped up the stairs and was about to peer over when he banged the barrier hard a few times in front of me and shouted 'NO MEANS NO'.

Now that pissed me off. It takes a lot to do that. Ok, not that much when I'm tired.

There really was no need to act like that. He lost his cool and instantly all of my respect. No one has said 'NO MEANS NO' to me since I asked twice to play in the sand-pit at nursery. So I looked him straight in the eye, bear in mind he was a 6,4 Black LA bus driver, and I calmly said 'OK means OK' and turned my back. Now, I didn't know much about this guy, but I knew I had already REALLY pissed him off. He shouted at me a lot and I think I heard 'get your ass back here.....'

I walked calmly into the depot and quickly changed my clothes, so as not to be instantly recognisable. I may be passive aggressive, but I'm not an idiot.

I saw him coming and placed on my dark glasses so he couldn't read my eyes. He went down the que looking for me and eventually did find me. In front of the whole que he shouted 'you, I want a word with you'. I purposely ignored him, so he'd have to shout again, ensuring the whole que was following the debate with a mild interest. Sure enough he bounded over and got in my face. It went something like this....

BBLABD (big black LA bus diver): I didn't appreciate what you said back there

Me: I just wanted to check if I had any water.

BBLABD: I just feel you were disrespecting me man, you need to respect me blah blah, I'm a big guy...

Me:what do you mean 'you're a big guy', what does that have to do with anything?

BBLABD: What it means is I'm a big guy and if I had to, id put my foot up your ass, that's what.

ME: are you threatening me with physical violence, because that isn't very professional ( this really pissed him off, I think he actually twitched a bit)

BBLABD: No, I'm not a professional (at this point I scanned his uniform for a number/name and he shouts...) 'OH you want to know my name, well its Blabd, OK, and what are you going to do about it?'

You see, I knew I wasn't going to do anything about it. This is the game I play with bouncers and other professional big guys who are just waiting for that one excuse to beat the crap out of you. The game is, you tease them, and don't ever give them an excuse. I promise you, there is nothing more infuriating for them. As a skinny white guy, this was is my only method of revenge against these bullying lumps of muscle, just being very English and polite. The image of Tom and Jerry with Spike the dog, tied to the chain, where Tom has measured it out and drawn a line and stands there blowing raspberries.....

At this point, he remembered he had another power, other than 'putting his foot up my ass' which was to chuck me off the bus. I also conceded, not wanting to spend one more minute in Imbredsville, but he had no grounds and I didn't want to give him any. We both kind of stepped of the offensive. He admitted he had slept badly and may have been short tempered. I said:

'I may have been a little rude, but there is always a place for courtesy (greyhound advertise their drivers as being so) and I don't feel you were very courteous.'

There was no disagreeing, I had been a little rude, nothing more and he had over reacted. He said that as a bus driver in LA there were a couple of times when he thought it was going to have to come to it.

I would have hated to have had him in my playground, and I went to Boothwood. I asked him did he honestly think I'd start on him, 'do I look like a have a suicide wish?'. At this he finally laughed.

We both laughed. Him because I'd acknowledged his physical prowess and massaged his ego, and I was just happy to get back on the bus and tell the awaiting passengers about how I made our driver flip....he was already a villain owing to his lateness. I counted 30 sympathetic tuts during the recounting of my story.

He did however get his revenge. He placed a woman next to me in Hannah's place and for the next 4 hours, I was sat next to a fatty on the run from her husband. Oh man did she get a wet shoulder.

Whales, Sealions and Salmon.....

Well I was up at the ass crack of dawn walking through a dark San Francisco on my own, gently clutching my fishing knife in my pocket while dodging tramp fights. All in the name of Salmon fishing. Despite my alarm not going off at 3:45am (yes, that early) I woke up naturally at 5am and was on the boat by 530am, the first. I picked my spot on The Captain Joey, (confusingly captained by Captain Tom) and got set up.....as dawn was cracking through the darkness we were sailing under the golden gate bridge, (one of the most magnificent sunrises I have ever seen).

One of the first things I did got me a bad name.....I thought it was quite innocent.....I peeled a banana. This, according to Hawaiian folklore curses the whole boat (the fish don't like the oils or something). So it started the day off nicely I thought, we had a struggle to over come. They didn't see it that way.

In spite of all that within the first 10 min, 3 X 30lb King salmon had been landed (none to my name so far). We were pulling out nice Silver Salmon all day, but owing to over fishing (and those god damn native americans ;) they are endangered and were required by law to put them back (alive). To their credit, they had an officer checking us of the boat. No gun this time and very friendly. So I did technically catch a salmon, but it was a 25lb silver, we didn't even land it in the boat for a photo.....sorry, no proof! Also got a jellyfish....hey, its a 'fish'.....

The Captain then announced that he had spotted two Wales off the front of the boat. The whole boat ran to the front and they turned out to be HUGE humpbacks. You really can't appreciate their size until you get so close you are sprayed by one. So as I was fumbling (and failing) to get a decent video of these magnificent animal, two smaller scale critters were bothering my rod. I was called back to my rod, I had caught a King Salmon....FINALLY (we were into the last hour now).

This is where the déjà vu kicks in. Just as I get to my rod, just like in Washington a couple of summers back with Dad and Mike, up pop two fat greedy eyes and SNIP, the salmon is nicked by a sea lion. I was the first of the day, but not the last. 6 others suffered the same fate. The captain later told me many local fisherman shot these creatures and 'don't give a shit about what those environmentalists have to say'. I could see his point. They can't catch Salmon themselves (nothing can except bears and sharks!), being so fat and slow and all, unless they have been hooked by fisherman, so all they do is breed, sit around scratching their arises and steal fish off of the fisherman, who pay licenses that go towards Salmon breeding programs.....aghhh the fat blubbery bastards. Sorry, this is turning into a Daily Mail fishing Mag. So that's 2-0 to the Sealions.

I didn't get another fish that day, must have been that banana.

The Watermark: A Nostalgic trip

I think everyone in my generation feels they missed out on the 60s - 'the summer of love' and all that that our parents lived through. In this piece I try and piece together my understanding of the 60s era from the accounts I have been told and read. This is really an on going project. I started this blog in San Fran in August 2006 and never finished it. So now I have [February 2009]. Read on if you are interested.
To me, that period was more than just the music [that just carried the mood]. It's like that guy on the bus in San Diego [with his magic mushroom feast] who put it as 'more than nifty'. I think my desire to retread these places expresses my nostalgic interest in reclaiming a piece of that history from the stories told. The title of this piece comes from 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas' where Hunter S Thompson describes being able to see 'the watermark' left by the wave of feeling in the 60s above San Francisco, which carried the belief they could change the world, but instead it 'broke and rolled back'.
Hunter S Thompson said that in the 60s there was 'madness in every direction', and the epicentre was certainly here in San Fran here....next to Goldengate Park. Now a-days though, Haight-Ashbury wishes it was what Ocean Beach (San Diego) was. Visiting Haight-Ashbury today taught me that, even before the 60s were up, any original vapours of the era had burned out and dried up. The dregs were sold, rolled and burned shortly after.
All that remains now are a few burned out old hippies on guitars or drawing on pavements in chalk. The more savvy ones run shops selling guitars and chalk. The place did have character though. On one shut down shop someone had sprayed 'your shop sucked anywayz'. The area was a strange mix of old record and book shops, Hippy clothes and cash-in tag-on shops. In some ways the area was similar to parts of Amsterdam. Especially having strangers walk up to you and whisper strange drugs into you ear. The crowd going through the area were either shopping for the nik-naks and clothes or were the lost children of the flower generation, looking for a taste of “the love nectar”, which they know they'll never have.
Before I published this, I wanted to hear what Mike and Reba thought. Mike and Reba are the age group of my parents – they were at college during the late 60s and Reba actually lived on a hippie commune for a time.
Mike said that his generation had the one before it fearing them. For the first time they challenged everything that was power, and did it peacefully. On the cause of the failure of this movement, Mike Croft agrees with Hunter S Thompson. Mike claims that people became too self-indulgent with the drugs.. Instead of getting 'high', people wanted to just get stoned. As Southpark puts it ‘Godam hippies, they want to change the world but all they do is sit around and smoke pot’. Maybe Dylan has something to answer for here, but there is a big difference between the two.
With the widespread euphoria from LSD and other hallucinogenic drugs came a new awareness borne from meditation and borrowed badly from Eastern religions such as Hinduism and Buddhism. From this came a naivety. This was the first and most significant flaw which was the product of both a lack of foresight in the movement and a press involvement, which caused a widespread fashion of behaviour rather than a gradual crystallisation of thought spread from a concentrated, centralised and guided body of thinkers. The result was that these naive but well intentioned people fell onto the awaiting 'meat hooks of reality' (Hunter S Thompson). I think they failed not only because of a scattered philosophy, but also because they wanted too much. Perhaps they trusted too much into the human condition, or as Hunter S Thompson said.
"What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped to create ... a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old-mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture: the desperate assumption that somebody — or at least some force — is tending that Light at the end of the tunnel."
But perhaps I’m the kind of sceptic that brought their system of thinking down. I’m not saying I’m an untrusting of innate human nature but a movement such as the Hippies is very much like the stock market; as soon as one group lose faith and stop buying into it, it’s is assumed they have a valid reason and have detected a flaw in the fabric of belief. This is all it takes and this is perhaps why it failed. The Neo-Conservatives were a group in America that ultimately, like the Catholic Church, believe man-kind cannot look after itself and needs controlling to keep it from trouble. I'm now off the point.
Right smack in the middle of Haight-Ashbury nowadays is a Ben and Jerry's. Fitting some may say. It was a company founded on good principles and free love (well, icecream) which sold out, thus replacing what it once stood for at the centre.
I think the thing I like most about Haight-Ashbury is the eccentrics. Maybe it’s because I’m British. I like it because, unlike most of America [excluding crack-addicts] eccentrics are not extra ordinary here. Singing opera out of your car window to a street full of baffled wanabess or dressing as a fairy (just because) fails utterly to stand out. Just generally being yourself is a lovely example of people enjoying their individual freedoms and right to happiness. And why not? Now where’s my fairy outfit…
So in some ways, the hippie culture has permeated. Me and Hannah have enjoyed two 'spare the air' days here, when ALL public transport is FREE! This is done in an effort to relieve car traffic and it includes all the cable cars and some ferries! So Hippie culture didn’t change the world overnight, or in a decade, but it’s been inherited and the ideas have perhaps echoed through our generation and beyond.

I left my hat in San Francisco

I was midway through Chinatown when i realised i had dropped my hat. But this wasn't just a hat. This is the hat i bought the first time i ever travelled abroad on my own (on the french exchange 6 years ago) and has been round the world with me on every trip ever since. I ran back along the 20 min walk so as to retrace my steps. I was sweating like a sumo on a treadmill. I went back to the last shop i had my hat in which was run by an 80 year old Chinese gent. He spoke little English. When I tried to explain i'd lost my hat he insisted on walking me to the nearest hat shop, thinking i wanted to buy one.

Which now i guess i do....

so this is going out to you hat, wherever you are.....

you were the best. But most of all, you were a friend. You will be missed.

You can have my money, but you can't have my pizza

So I’d just got this pizza on Venice beach. Not just any pizza mind, but a 20inch monster (see my photoblog). It was to keep myself and Hannah alive during the next 30 hours of travel (a trick we learned in Greece on the non-stop trains). I walked for 10min from the pizza place to our hostel and was twice asked if I’d give someone some pizza. There must be something about a huge pizza that makes people assume you can't possibly eat it all and have in fact bought it with the sole intention of sharing it. On most occasions, I would have considered it - but this was MY food and our only sustenance for the next day. I wasn't giving it up with out a fight. And a Knife fight at that.

So with this pizza we bid farewell to our fairly grotty but friendly Venice beach hostel, setting off for the Greyhound station in downtown LA. We took the hour long bus drive and got off at the stop for the number 60. I'd got chatting to the driver and a couple of his colleagues on the bus journey and they were all discussing their shared ideas around karma. I mostly listened but it was an interesting talk that had me thinking in a useful frame of mind for the events which were to be served to us.

The driver dropped us off, asking if we were SURE we wanted to get off. It was only then I looked at the time and realised we were about to make a change in downtown LA at 11:30pm. Not wise, even if you're a BALABD, which I’m not, nor do I intend to be any time soon, biatch. As soon as I stepped off the bus I immediately registered that it was not an area I really wanted to be in at any time, never mind with Hannah at night loaded with suitcases stock full of mug-worthy products.

Nevertheless, we found our bus stop, and it soon became clear that right behind us was 'Your friendly Neighbourhood Dealer'. I'm not quite sure what he was dealing, but judging by the condition of most of his customers and his rates, I would guess crack. I may be wrong but you don't get those kinds of shakes with a Happy Meal. Hannah, justifiably, started emitting fearful vibes. I did my best to calm her down using only my voice, for if we were obviously uncomfortable, we would lead the dealer to think we felt threatened, which I didn't. It was his customers who scarred me. He was clearly relatively minted and knew what he was doing, probably dealing drugs only from necessity. His customers however (of all demographs and ethnicity) had little in common but for a desperate addiction and a small money flow issue. One of his customers palmed some coinage into the dealers hand and tried to make off with the crack before he could count it. He was $2.75 short. I remember the figure because of the speed with which the dealer counted it in complete darkness. We were not witnessing a massive drug-ring transaction here. This was petit stuff, likely to attract petit criminals....particularly ones short of $3 and looking for a chump to knife for it. That made me nervous and my back was never turned in any direction for more than 3 seconds.

And Hope, A Winged Chariot with under-lighting

In the midst of this potentially volatile situation, a luminous carriage of hope pulled up in front of us. A brand-new sports car with under-lighting shined from the horizon and stopped. A white couple, say 25ish, in what turned out to be a nice roomy sports car were obviously scouting for someone white to ask directions. They pulled over and asked us if we knew where Tokyo town was. I replied I didn't know and they registered we were from out of town. It was probably the suitcases that tipped them-off, but you're never too sure with Californians. 'You guys aren't from round here are you?...Are you guys going the greyhound station?' the guy asked. A guilty wave of relief ran through me. The hand of intervention had taken us out of this shit-hole; Karma had rewarded me for not giving that poor starving girl a slice of my big fat pizza. 'Yes....' I replied, while me and Hannah exchanged happy glances.'...were getting out of LA on the Greyhound'.

'Here it comes' I thought, 'our obligatory offer of a lift'.....'my chance to make a life-long friend and share stories about that time he rescued me from a nasty gang-raping....'ha ha ha' we'd chortle, while sipping expensive sprits on the yacht he'd named after that billion dollar company we'd started all those happy years ago.......this will all be in our shared past.....


The girl leaned over her boyfriend and shouted, quite audibly, 'well you guys had better get out of here, it's a really bad area,’ 'it's a f*cking sh*t hole' the guy helpfully added.

And that was it. The fact we were waiting at a bus stop and flagging every taxi somehow hadn't conveyed to them we were rather keen to follow their advice. But before I could pick my jaw up, they were at the next set of lights, probably discussing how kind they were to have informed us of the plight we were in. Half-way, they obviously realised they perhaps should have done more and shouted back to the drug dealer (this is the truth, I swear) 'don't let any shit happen to these guys'. The man was wearing what was possibly the most self-satisfied grin I’d ever seen. I bet he thought he was the good fucking Samaritan....asking a strange drug-dealer to protect two fish-out-of water tourists in the middle of LA's shitty downtown quarter. And I bet he slept that night. Probably after receiving a congratulatory blow-job from his girl-friend for being such a great guy to those poor English tourists. I bet he's going to die with a smug expression on his face. The dirty cocksuckers.

That was the drug-dealer's opinion of them anyway and something similar flashed through my mind but just stopped at my tongue as they drove off. The group of REALLY bad looking guys across the street could have thought it was aimed at them. I didn't want to start a turf war and have to teach them all a lesson in how to get their asses kicked, I wasn't in the mood.

It was at this point I entered into dialogue with the dealer, mostly out of disgust at this display of utter insensitivity. Not only did they announce to the street we were tourists, but added it was a shit hole, and on top of it....left us there with the request of protection from a crack dealer. Even he wouldn’t have asked himself to look after someone. We both concluded that if they had really cared, they would obviously have given us a lift out of there. Here's that two-faced 'have a nice day' bullshit again. Self-righteous people blinded by a cloud of smug around their hypocrisy. And what the hell is a 'sport' car anyway, isn't that an oxymoron? It's not like you have to pedal. The dealer said something along the lines of:

'Black or white, people are all the same, all looking out for themselves and being shitty to other people'

So we chatted away discussing their rudeness while he made various transactions with the desperate, the low - and the soon to be high. You know you're in a bad area, when even the drug dealers are lamenting your presence and attempting to sympathise. There is a beautiful irony in this somewhere, I’m sure.

It was at this point the third person of the night asked me for some pizza. To describe him, I’d have to say he was a kind of black Father Jack, but with dreads. Again, the size of the pizza must have convinced him my only reason for buying it was to share it with crusty drug addicts, who smell quite considerably of their own wee. I told him I couldn't as it was not only my breakfast but also my lunch.

Our Guardian Bag-lady

The friendly dealer came and went and a few other shady characters began to circle us as bus 60 seemed less likely to ever come. Then our guardian angel appeared...well. Sort of. Our proper one must have been on the loo or something and sent a homeless woman instead, who also happened to have a keen interest in my pizza box. She was in a pretty bad state and I kinda didn't want to be rude, so I engaged her in conversation. Despite her state, she nonetheless recognised she needed to help us get the hell out of that place. She didn't ask for payment and instead seemed satisfied to be taught words in 'that lovely English accent you got'. When she realised we wanted to get out, by any means possible, she took it upon herself to run out into the middle of the street and try to flag taxis down for us. Somehow, I think most cabbies may have been put off her potential custom by the fact she was screaming and waving her arms in the middle of the road. Largely, while I appreciated she was trying to help us, she didn't. She kept muttering incomprehensible comments under her breath adjoined with discerning looks and nods towards the local drug dealer. She also kept making meticulous notes on the palm of her hand, using her other index finger.

When the bus eventually arrived after what must have been 40min, she asked for money. I wasn't about to get my wallet out in the middle of the street. When I refused to give her money she insisted on accompanying us to the greyhound station. I said I would pay for her to get on the bus (about 30p that time of night). The bus driver obviously knew her and didn’t seem to mind she didn’t have a ticket. So she got off with us after a short 5 min journey.We agreed we had clearly made the right choice in not walking to the station, which had crossed our mind a couple of times. Once we were off the bus our Angel of Los Angeles, albeit in good disguise, asked again for money. I repeated that I would not give her any money while we were in the middle of the street but if she followed me into the greyhound station then I would see what I had.

She obliged and politely argued that she hadn't gone to all this trouble for nothing. I politely reminded her that, although we were appreciative of her help, we had not requested it. Saying that made me feel a bit shitty though and all that talk of Karma just swirled back into my brain. I had a few dollars in my wallet, we got out safely, and who knows, maybe her craziness had scarred off any would be threats. I handed her a few spare notes for her help, if only to get rid of her before she ended up following us to San Francisco.

Then she did it.

She asked the question that so many others before had done. I'd given her some cash....but she had to didn't she....she had to ask....it was just too big and smelled too damn good not to. I'd have asked too.....

At this I gave her a look which dismissed her hopes and loudly said, as if to announce to all of LA,

'You can have my money, but you can't have my pizza'

And triumphantly, I marched through the boarding gate.....little did I know my trouble had only just started. I was on my way to have a big argument with a Big Angry LA Bus Driver

The Green Card: America's interdependence with drugs

I didn't ever get round to telling you about the guys i met in Ocean Beach.

While we were staying in Ocean Beach, we were placed in a room full of hostel employees who'd originally checked in (Hotel California style) and gone on to work here for upwards of 4 months, some 2 years. One guy was from Istanbul, another girl from Brazil who stomped around the room sulking about the guys she shared with and 2 guys (X-LA), who spent their time bitching about the sulking Brazilian girl. I could understand the tension. She didn't want to be in their room, as it was apparently 'the party room'. Her only other option was sharing with fat John, the cook (resembling the Chaucerian portrait). Fat John really stank. I originally was booked to stay in his room. I took one sniff before deciding to bunk up with Hannah downstairs instead. He had three different computers all set up on his bed and a serious porn addiction. I could understand this girl's plight.

Anyway, the green card. The two LA guys each had a card issued by the Californian Medical Dept. stating they had medical clearance to use cannabis for medicinal purposes. They both had theirs ready to show to the police at any time, should they need to. APPARENTLY, they both suffered from terrible back pain. I wondered privately how many new ailments people in England would discover if this system were legalised.

I then received a fascinating narrative explaining all the drugs available in Ocean Beach which, owing to a close proximity to the Mexican border, has been the drugs capitol of America for 40 years (it doesn't say that on the road sign into town). I will now repeat the narrative, although I do not claim it is anything but hear'say.

Khat is apparently a native American drug and also used by some Muslims when fasting. It is illegal, unles you are of certain religious groups. It inhibits appetite and also increases study ability. It is apparently popular with foreign Asian students, as the effect is a mixture of nicotine and caffeine.

I also learned about the joys of Meths crystals (see Fear and Loathing) which are apparently popular here. What i didn't realise was that the drug is nicknamed Hitler's blood', as it was developed by the third Reich for the troops, to keep them awake for weeks on end on the Russian front. When the supply ran dry, bad things happened....

We then discussed the relationship between America and drugs. Obviously, the initial wealth of the east coast region stemmed from growing tea, tobacco and hemp (for shipping etc) but some Americans seem uneasy around the issue of drugs, seeing them as a something which negative in a society (eg crack), rather than something which funds and fuels it (eg Tea). The impression of an uneasiness with drugs remains until you spend one min watching their TV adverts.You are delivered a medical lesson about pain relief, hair restoration and various other dubious substances legitimised only by their tax-abilty and market-abilty. America has a huge interdependence on drugs, taxed or untaxed, but it appears to me the US is in denial. It seems odd to make a drug such as THC (weed) illegal while simultaneously accepting it's medical benefits. This odd dichotomy of acceptability has been engineered quite deliberately I'm sure. I expect as soon as they find a way to tax and control a supply, it will suddenly magically become more acceptable.....(see coffee and opium.....)

My roomate - Tenesse - claimed that if an American war is not about oil, it is about drugs. Vietnam, he claimed, was a war fought to secure the control of the cocaine supply in the area. Also, LSD supplies to the troops were encouraged by the military as it encouraged bravery (or lack of direct understanding...however you view it). This, apparently, was a direct response to the enemy troops. The Vietnamese troops had a reputation for bravery and extended periods of conflict endurance. Tenesse's uncle said he had fired 10 bullets into one of these guys and he only stopped after he was introduced to a grenade. Their endurance was, according to Tenesse, nothing more than the effects of an over indulgence in Amphetamines and Ketamine, readily available in the area. This is similar to the ancient Norse berserker tribe, who apparently used to eat magic mushrooms before battle (hence going berserk....)


Tenesse made it quite clear that the relationship between drugs and conflict was as strong as ever. The Afghanistan war was to secure (eg. take away from the Taliban) the control on the poppy growth. He also claims that there are no drug tests for the US Iraq front line troops. Again, a steady supply of Cocaine, Weed and even Heroine is carefully encouraged by the generals. The philosophy of the military is, as long as you fight and don't run, you can take anything you need to get through it (in WW1 Chocolate was prescribed to boost health and moral). The drugs tests when the troops return back to the USA are apparently timed so they are deliberately just long enough for the substances to be broken down by the body.

Ok that's it for drug conspiracy. Sorry if you don't find these longer rants interesting, but for me, travel is about finding these alternative ideas and thinking them through. One guy i met on the bus said that i could never understand the 60s in California, but to help me he told me this story. He was once invited to a dinner party at a house. It was fully set, nice china and all that, even polite company. When the lid was lifted on the food, only a centre piece of six cooked magic mushrooms were available. 'That was just nifty' he said, adding 'it was the neatest time in history and we will never get it back'. More on the 60s another time.

Personally, I wouldn't say America has a 'drug problem'....just a problem accepting that people like drugs, legal or not.

Green Tortoise

Ok, i just spent all night on a greyhound from LA to San Fran...there was this bloody irritating mexican women behind me who found it quite necessary to shout incomprehensible instructions to her baffled children every three min. she got on my nerves so much i eventually turned round and smacked her one in the face...im writing this from a police cell.....

well i did it in my dream anyway

basically, we are at this hostel now which has FREE INTERNET! so all the blogs i only managed to draft before the time cut out i now have time to edit.....so expect many.....(i will put them in a rough order)

so that's it for now...

also, now you can leave comments!! i changed the setting, i didn't even know it was on....sorry....comment away my pretty ones
Green Tortoise
J

Looking for America

First, let it be said that America is a great country, in every sense of the word. However, the fist thing that strikes me are the enormous contrasts. The obvious rich/poor and black/white but also the sane/insane. i have tried to capture some of these in my photos (still to upload any....various reasons)

This is a country that recruits its 'reserve'* army on TV with adverts saying they will pay off your student debt and if you 'call today...receive a free sports watch and DVD'.
(*Reserve is a euphemism for...when we are really fucked, you're getting called up)

A free sports watch and DVD. No lies. is that the stingy price they are only willing to bribe the soon-to-be-dying for America with. So we start with a military that really has no concept of human worth....

then there are the REALLY mad people....

I have seen more 'mad' people in the states in the last week than i have in a life time in England. (see You can have my money blog) they walk along the street mumbling and talking to themselves. yet all that separates them from the rich and sane is a small silver gadget which plugs bluetooth into their heads. this handsfree kit is the social signal needed to grant you permission to wander down the street talking to yourself and getting no funny looks. you can even have an argument. if, however, you don't have one...then you are mad. who's to say that the people with the headsets are even using them anyway....? i think they are just mad people who have clocked on to what everyone else is doing. maybe we are all just talking to ourselves and the audience is a figment of our imagination. ok that's enough mushrooms for now i think.

Fishing off an open pier

This will just be a quick entry, the comp i am on is so shit, it takes 3 min before what you have typed appears on screen. so forgive the poor typing....

ok

still in san Diego, its our second night here, no third, we moved hostels, the other one was a sweaty brothel...well it used to be, but it was so horrible.

we are now in what resembles a hippie commune in the Ocean Beach district of SANdie

the area is a kind of hang over from the beat-neck era in the 50s, in turn inherited by the hippies and now gracefully maintained by the sufers and stoners.

it has that unique vibe vibe of youth but without menace - under-age drunks amble down the street while benevolent cops wave them on, pausing only to nibble at a donoughts

The beach here is just as you'd imagine a Californian beach...but with more fatties!!(they don't show that on BayWatch, ...who'd want to watch that in slo-mo!?)

i went fishing off of a pier today (the longest in the west coast for those of you who like facts like that, i know i do). i wussed out of a 430am fishing trip..would have been good but meant leaving hannah on her tod all day, not very fair. by fishing off the pier it allowed her to keep me fueled up for the fishing!

*incoming fishing story*

for those of you who dont like fishing stories, look away now....

So there i was, on the pier, id been fishing for ten min so it was time to break off for a sandwhich. when i came back to my line, it had been taken under the peir by something. i tried reeling it in but it felt as if it were caught on the concrete pier itself.

i told hannah to ask in the nearby tackle shop (WHeRE ID RENTED THE GEAR) IF HE'D COME OUT AND GIVE ME A HAND. HE CAME OUT WIT THE PLATITUDE YOU 'JUST GOT TO WoRK IT IN' OH SHIT I LEFT CAP LOCK ON

once he'd tried 'working it in' he said 'i see what you mean'

we both tried in vain to reel it in, and by this time had drawn a small crowd (well, a lost kid and a hungry seagull) as i reeled it in in the line broke (20lb) and he said from the size id probably hooked a reef shark (see google images!)

judging by some some of the photos on the pier of previous catches, it was prob for the best it broke me, plus now i can tell the 'shark that got away ' story. this computer is really pissing me off readers, i hope you realise the pain im in to type this, go proof read it yourself

*end of fishing story*

met a nice guy in the pier (as we were catching a mackerel every 3 min) and got chatting. he called himself big pete. my mum warned me about strangers like this.

we talked about racism and politics and the differences between england and US. and he couldn't actually believe that the police in england dont always carry guns, he was of the opinion that more police would die in US if they didnt have guns.

i mentioned my blog and he then informed me he wanted to start one to tell of his bi_sex_ploits....that was it, i was out of there. not before he told me he had 'turned' his ex girlfriend and his current one and her got toger2gether. he told me he would share some photos. the thought made me shudder, he was a big fat guy, i mean, big....'no thanks' i politely said, and headed back to hannah on the beach.

San Diego

(read LA Xtended first)

So we boarded a greyhound to San Diego and met a guy from derby. one of those people who how ever many hints you give that you want to stop talking he doesn't take them. evenutally i went to sleep. i think ho got that hint. i hate being rude and he was interesting (had doen a simlilar trip to my sister laura). he came with us to our hostel as he didnt have a place to stay and we got put in differant rooms.

our hostel was in such a nice area called the Gas Lamp district. the architecture was amazing, most dating from 1890

hang on there is a cazy lady shouting at me in the library...apparently she does'nt like being called a duck-skinned bitch. oh she's been carried out now.

ok

so the gas lamp district was built when the north south railroad was completed and it is really gentrified....more nice clubs and bars than in any area i have been to with a great blues scene.

anyway, i couldn't sleep in the hostel last night, it was so so hot and full of irish people having 'a fecking party' which entailed shouting 'who's your best friend? Tequilla!' every 5 min.

i walked to the only place could see that looked decent and wasn't ID checked (it had live music etc)

I got in and this guy starts talking to me...about 24 in age. He informed me i had arrived at a chistian meeting and it was the will of god that bought me here. i didn't think it was appropriate to mention it was acutally the flipping irish. Once i realised where i was it was then i noticed the words to the song...'jesus is love'. He informed me that he'd done Bible studies at uni and he had 'painted' the 'picture' behind the stagem, which was apparently Jesus on the cross, not ironed out road kill as i had assumed.

we had a chat for what must have been 45m in and covered lots, from religion, divine purpose and scientific knoledge and differed in a few areas....mostly around creationism. i said i didn't belive the world was flat even though i'd never seen it from space and that science was a tool for understanding our universe in a more profound way. nope, it was made in six days he insisted. it was nota metaphor.

he asked if he could pray for me, i was bashful and said i couldn't really stop him. he went ahead and placed his hand on my shoulder and asked god a few questions, and told him to help anser my questions...it was kinda nice i guess.

he ended by saying 'christianity is a simple religion, you don't have to think about it'

californians and christianity, a dangerous mix.

LA Xtended

Sorry the last blog was rushed off, it was $5 an hour and we only had 5 dollars!

I am now sat in the comfort of San Diego Library where they provide free internet for an hour. this is great but it keeps crashing and i just lost a whole blog i typed! oh well!!

Anway, i think it is worth going back to Hollywood in this narrative. It was an interesting place and it was difficult to digest it all at the time. I'm still not quite sure what to make of it.

While we were there we were privy to a red carpet event (the ESPYs...some sporting awards show) in the Kodak theatre where they do the Oscars), right next to the Chinese theatre. It was interesting to see the whole operation take place. it was right outside our hotel window and we saw it from setting up the street, laying the red carpet and the guests arriving through to packing up the next day. it drew quite a crowd so we hung around for a bit. it really was A-list stuff. the first guest we saw walk the carpet was the one and only Mr. Belding! Wow....im still recovering...
also James Blunt appeared, haunted by 'you're beautiful' being played over the tannoy. i think i saw Andre Agassi too but it might have been a fat Mexican. that was too much excitement for us, so we went and had tea at Hooters.

now, guys, if you have never been to hooters, i recommend NOT going with your girlfriend/spouse. While it is a fine eating establishment in every way, it has rather....distracting staff. it is THE RULE that they must wear the shortest and tightest orange hot pants....its just the rule....there was nothing i could do about it how ever much i complained. so when we finally got a seat and were served a drink, hannah actually watched me put the drink to my mouth, tip it, and completely miss and fill my lap with icy water. probably the best thing for me considering where i was looking. i maintain i was watching a near-by plate of food that just happened to be by a waitress' bottom.

ok so i mentioned we saw pirates of the crabby bean (fat man's breast) but i didn't describe the theatre. the El Capitan is one of those relics from the 20s you just don't get in the UK. they had kitted it out in pirate fittings, with ship wrecks and all sorts of pirate related props everywhere. they even had pirate entertainers (and no, i didn't get told to get back to work....even though i would make an awesome pirate)

they put on this big show before the film started with light effects and stuff, but the second the film started, that was it...the audience we uncontainable. it was cringe worthy at first....every cheesy joke they were rolling around and every time jonny depp so much as looked like he was going to think about saying 'savvy' they all cheered like he was in the room. having said all that, it was a really good atmosphere and somehow i think it must have been better than the curzon....

our second day in hollywood already felt like we'd been there too long....it is really a day-stop town. the day before a guy on the street handed us some tickets to see a TV show being filmed....never heard of it but i thought it would be an interesting experience. they printed off a map on the back of the ticket which looked like a messy game of nought and crosses so it took us about an hour to find the place in the back street grid system studios of hollywood (we were half an hour late....surprise)

none of that mattered. as soon as we were seated in the air conditioned darkness it began. very odd. it was called 'the amazon fishbowl' with bill maher and the producer basically cam out at the start and told us if we didn't laugh at the jokes he would get fired. he was only half joking. we were informed it was a webcast, as well as a TV show...so try and watch it!

the show got underway and the first guest was Morgan spurlock. the show was only half an hour so the questions didnt get very interesting but it was entertaining. daniel powter performed and was actually really good. the jokes were all lame....but my....how Bush is hated in California. every joke at his expense. anyone would think they hadn't re-elected him!? Even Arnie was distancing himself from Bush in a local paper (granted....by cuddling up to the gay vote so to speak)

on leaving our hostel, someone had written 'hope lies in the proles'. someone else had crossed out proles and replaced it with 'chavs'. if this is the case there is no hope! i'm sure that's not quite what Orwell had in mind.


so that's about it for Hollywood....we got the bus out of there that evening....and it wasn't fast enough!

The Journey

The Journey

Flying to LA was that usual kind of surreal experience. eat, sleep and watch films. one min you're asleep, the next your watching some crappy teen flick, then eating American Airlines 'food', another nap and transfer (through Chicago) and we were in LA. from london to LA in under 20 hours. it is hard to get your head round it and i usually just give up trying

interestingly the first person serving at customs in chicago was speaking fluent spanish to a colleague. English seems to be a secnd language with LOTS of people.

When you fly over LA it really does go on for ever! Apart from a huge forest fire (quite a site from the air) i saw some kids playing real football....i knew the yanks would eventually come round...

we got a shuttle from the LAX airport to hollywood and met a 30 year old DJ on his way to a DJ conference (!? what do they talk about....best needles?)...anyway...her went on to inform me that Hip-Hop is something you live and rap is something you do...i'm glad he cleared that up...

rap is HUGE in america and that is an understatement, the only thing close in sales is country (jonny cash etc) so no wonder it's doing so well. instead of street entertainers in ques now, there are people who rap at you...including your name and personal details in rhymes so simple a toddler could probably have written it...'you're in a que, this rap is for you' etc and you pay them (usually to leave you alone)

this was while we were queuing for pirates of crabby bean....(which was amazing....a pirate playing a wirlitzer at the start!)




If you didn't know, LA is FUll of crazy people! (more than London or even, yes, Coalville)

we did meet another street entertainer, dressed as a huge face...our conversation went a little like this:

'where are you from'

(me) *eNGLAND'

'GO HOME....its shit here'

*'i quite like it...and i only just arrived...why so shit'

'because Bush blew up the WTC'

*'ooook......nice eye-patch by the way'

i just stopped myself from asking why he wasnt dressed as a pirate....also saw another guy with a hook for a hand, they really do take thier movie promotion seriously here.

niether me or hannah were very struck by the stars, its all a bit desperate. in our hostel someone had carved 'LA is nothing but hype and dreams - get out'

The Journey

Flying to LA was that usual kind of surreal experience. eat, sleep and watch films. one min you're asleep, the next your watching some crappy teen flick, then eating American Airlines 'food', another nap and transfer (through Chicago) and we were in LA. from london to LA in under 20 hours. it is hard to get your head round it and i usually just give up trying

interestingly the first person serving at customs in chicago was speaking fluent spanish to a colleague. English seems to be a secnd language with LOTS of people.

When you fly over LA it really does go on for ever! Apart from a huge forest fire (quite a site from the air) i saw some kids playing real football....i knew the yanks would eventually come round...

we got a shuttle from the LAX airport to hollywood and met a 30 year old DJ on his way to a DJ conference (!? what do they talk about....best needles?)...anyway...her went on to inform me that Hip-Hop is something you live and rap is something you do...i'm glad he cleared that up...

rap is HUGE in america and that is an understatement, the only thing close in sales is country (jonny cash etc) so no wonder it's doing so well. instead of street entertainers in ques now, there are people who rap at you...including your name and personal details in rhymes so simple a toddler could probably have written it...'you're in a que, this rap is for you' etc and you pay them (usually to leave you alone)

this was while we were queuing for pirates of crabby bean....(which was amazing....a pirate playing a wirlitzer at the start!)




If you didn't know, LA is FUll of crazy people! (more than London or even, yes, Coalville)

we did meet another street entertainer, dressed as a huge face...our conversation went a little like this:

'where are you from'

(me) *eNGLAND'

'GO HOME....its shit here'

*'i quite like it...and i only just arrived...why so shit'

'because Bush blew up the WTC'

*'ooook......nice eye-patch by the way'

i just stopped myself from asking why he wasnt dressed as a pirate....also saw another guy with a hook for a hand, they really do take thier movie promotion seriously here.

niether me or hannah were very struck by the stars, its all a bit desperate. in our hostel someone had carved 'LA is nothing but hype and dreams - get out'

anyway, got tyo go now!

From Somalia to Hollywood

Me and Hannah are currently in a Bethnal Green netcafe run by some friendly Somalians. after much confusion about dialing codes we managed to get through to a hostel in hollywood, only to find the mic on the phone didn't work! after giving up on explaining what was wrong we tried a different phone and success was ours!we are now booked into a hostel opposite the Chinese theatre on hollywood boulevard....looks good!some of the other options on hostel sites had comments like 'good food, shame about the ghetto....'. i think not.

so that's it. the first part of the holiday booked and it has already been stressful! the joys of internet cafes run by people who don't speak english are endless! lovely people though, really

anyway a big red box is flashing 1 min so i guess that means i have to go now

much love


see you all in LA i hope!

J+H

last min

Ok, I have one day left in which I have to not only buy and pack my gear and plan the first leg of the trip but also, and most importantly, make the soundtrack! I need suggestions for the best songs while ‘doing’ the west coast.

I’m sure most people love the planning stage and will get more out of a better planned holiday but for some reason I never got round to anything more detailed than 'let's do the west coast'. this worked ok last year when I interailed around Europe and just pointed at any city I had heard of on the map, but they had timetables and trains that worked. America is rubbish if you are not able to drive (as im 20). The trains are actually worse than ours…

Anyway, this time tomorrow I’ll know exactly what I’m doing.....ish

Not sure if i'm alone in making it up as I go along, I’m just worried that I’ll miss the best thing that's just around the corner. Let me know if you think of something really good to do....

My First WeBlog

Welcome to my first entry. I am halfway through my last summer holiday in education and intend to travel around the States with my girlfriend Hannah in about a week. All being well, I will use this Blog to keep people updated and share the best photos i have taken along the way.