San Francisco - Day 11

I am now in danger of being “Tortoised”. This is a phenomenon which affects people staying at The Green Tortoise hostels – I suffered it in Seattle. (Well sufferance isn’t really true as it was enjoyable.) One gets comfortable in these places and it is very easy to stay. I have, however, “broken the cycle” because I will be leaving San Francisco tomorrow.

After yesterday’s “interruptions” I decided to set up office in my dorm straightaway and not even attempt the ballroom. Having eaten and armed myself with coffee that is exactly what I did. I resolved not to come out, or play games, until I had got somewhere to stay over the holiday period!

This I managed to do, although it did take several hours to work out where I wanted to stay in order to get to see the things I want and the availability of my first choices. Knowing where I would be staying took the pressure off my troubled brain and I could relax. I intend to spend Humbug Day in Big Sur National Park, surrounded by nature and untortured by commercial exploitation – I was looking forward to it!

I arranged my car hire and having now finalised everything for my onward travel I rewarded myself with something to eat.

I selected a little Italian restaurant just off of Broadway and had a rather excellent meal served to me by a stunning looking waitress – I think that enhanced the flavour.
After my meal I collected a coffee and headed back to the hostel where I set about getting packed and re-checked it again – just in case.

The rest of the day was spent at leisure and rounded off with a nice relaxing sauna and an early-ish night as I wanted to be all refreshed and alert for my departure tomorrow.

In the words of Kurt Cobain

All Apologies!
Many apologies to my devoted readers (I will change my underwear later) who have been deprived of my deranged ramblings whilst I travel the world.
Having got to Mexico this was where I noticed decent Internet connections getting scarcer and then non-existant. I had problems uploading photographs on the last couple of entries so I gave up.
The "good" news is: I have kept an electronic diary (well a series of Word documents) of my travels which are pretty well complete and up to date, so I will post these up when I get the chance to.
In the meantime; I am alive and well and currently in Australia - a truly wonderful country. If anyone out there can translate "No worries mate" into Latin then perhaps the Aussie Government can incorporate it into their coat of arms.
Once again, apologies for the break in service. Normality will not be resumed as it is an abstract concept - and entirely subjective!
My best wishes and appreciation to any and all who bother to click the buttons in order to read this.
Phil

San Francisco - Day 10

I decided today was “a day of action”, but didn’t wake up until 11:00. The head wasn’t very delicate and so I pressed on!

I visited Cafe Roma for my usual large latte – this and two cigarettes = breakfast! Having returned to the hostel I then set up workstation in the ballroom. I got a nice corner spot out of the direct sunshine. (This makes one hot and you can’t see the screen half the time due to the glare – and superior strength - of the Sun!)

First to come and chat was John. He was waxing lyrical about our fun last night, we both agreed it was good to exchange a bit of English irony (like plastic, but made out of iron for the Yanks) and wet ourselves laughing waiting for the “locals” to get the joke – they usually had to work it out “out loud” before the quarter dropped! John is here for the next eight months working in the hostel, so it has literally become his home.

John disappeared to tend to some chores and Stephanie & Jolie came into the ballroom. They came over and had a chat. They had been shopping in fine girlie fashion and with the Canadian $ outstripping the US$ it was cheap shopping for them. They leave the same day as I – Saturday – but they know where they are going. All I have is a car rented and nowhere specific to drive it to! I attempted to make some progress.

Eleanor came in then and so I stopped to have a chat with her. She is leaving Saturday, by Greyhound to LA where she then flies back to Leeds. We waxed lyrical about Death Valley and the geological formations on show, and she admitted that it had fired her interest in knowing more about the way the valley was formed. She left to meet a guy she met travelling in China two years ago. He has since married and is in San Francisco with his wife, so they were all going to get together for a few drinks and a chat.

Marcos came in next. He came and asked if I had seen his “Constructing the Universe” book. “No” I said, “I gave them back to you after taking all the details.” “I know,” he said, “I remember you put them in my hand”. He had loaned it to an American guy who was about when we were discussing them after I had returned the books. We formulated a suitable punishment for all book thieves; they were all excruciatingly painful and resulted in death, and then he went off in search of this American guy. I know how he feels – books are precious things! (Both in the “Local Shop” and the Gollum sense.)

I eventually gave up on getting anywhere as:
1. The wireless network seem to be incapable of connecting to the Internet
2. I had finished my coffee
3. I was hungry and it was 15:00

I packed up my laptop, took it up to my locker, and went out for something to eat. I decided to take JD’s recommendation and went to Yii’s (a Chinese restaurant) for duck over rice. This was a superb recommendation as the meal was delicious and cost less than $5. I headed back to the hostel feeling quite stuffed.

Having re-established office back in the ballroom I set about trying to get some things booked up for Humbug. (Humbug is the great commercial fest and book-balancing exercise which used to be the winter solstice before religions ruined it and corporations made shit loads of money out of it convincing idiots and morons that they must take out loans, or get new credit cards, for in order to buy overpriced crap they wouldn’t normally buy. It is also an excuse for restaurants, pubs, clubs, diners, etc. to serve up warmed up plastic, cardboard or reprocessed food with a sprig of holly on top and charge ten times the price for. Call me cynical but that is exactly what this time of year is – a cynical rip-off and exploitation of the gullible!)

My success was rather thwarted by a small procession of people who kept stopping by to chat to me: John, Neil, JD, Eleanor, Marcos, and “the Canadian girls” were all guilty (well as much as one can call people guilty for being friendly) of delaying my plans.

After a few hours of this I gave up, packed up and just settled for sitting in the ballroom and chatting to everyone who wanted to.

Later on – after dark – it was suggested we go out for pizza so a bunch of us took a stroll up the road to a pizza place and indulged in some very fine pizza.
After this we went back to the hostel, collecting some beers as we went, and proceeded to drink the beers and chat about many things.

When all the beers were gone I decided it would be a very good idea to go to bed, especially as it was now tomorrow! I returned to my dorm and succeeded in getting to bed without waking any of my roommates up and was instantly asleep!
I will do some serious planning later today...

San Francisco - Day 9

I had another slow and gentle day today as I felt I deserved it.

After breakfast I went out in search of the usual coffee and then took it back to the ballroom. Some of the Death Valley crew were sitting about and we all sat there chatting and reminiscing over the trip. We all agreed that it was a wonderful trip and the group of people we had made it ultra-enjoyable. We all decided to re-convene in the ballroom this evening after dinner (tonight was a free dinner night) and have a little re-union party. That agreed we all split up to attend to various things we had to do. Mine was; go out and find some lunch!

When I returned after lunch I was sitting about uploading my latest photographs when I encountered Neil an Everton supporter from Liverpool. He started chatting to me about the locality and any points of interest. We chatted about places visited for a while and as Neil had come from Las Vegas we exchanged notes on that. He had been there for the Hatton Mayweather fight but had to watch it on a big screen – which they charged for, of course – as it was sold out. We both agreed it was a “totally over the top” place and there could only be one Vegas because the world has no need for another! (One could argue there is no need for the first one as it is so obscenely wasteful.)

About 19:00 – dinner time in the ballroom – the old “Death Valley Club” re-convened for a social gathering. Having got food we all colonised a long table, beer and wine were produced and a thoroughly good time was had by all. After the food was finished we all cleared up and then more drinks were procured.

The whole thing developed into an impromptu party and I eventually crawled off to bed at about 2:00 to sleep very soundly.

San Francisco - Day 8

We arrived back in pouring rain at about 7:15 am.
It was a bit strange waking up heading into a city – all the open view had gone! It might sound rather silly, but I was missing the desert.

The group of people, the majority, were staying at The Green Tortoise hostel, so some of the guys headed off from the bus station and the remainder all piled out at the hostel. I bid Seena and Paul farewell, and thanked them for making the trip such fun and a memorable experience.
We all formed a forlorn looking huddle in the reception area of the hostel whilst we got sorted out with rooms. During this time most of us grabbed the available breakfast of toasted bagels, coffee and juice.

When I had my room allocation I retrieved my bag from the storage room and proceeded to empty it onto the floor and sort out all my stuff. The first thing I generated was a large laundry pile and then repacked my main bag with rather pleasing efficiency.

As it was now mid-morning I decided to go in search of lunch and coffee. When I returned, mission accomplished, I decided to get my laundry out of the way. The laundry room is available after 14:00 as the hostel staff uses it for the hostel laundry during the morning.

As I was about to actually do my laundry I met a couple of my new roommates: Magnus, a Swiss guy who was travelling through the States and Andrew a guy from Bradford. Andrew was a bit of a giveaway as he was wearing an England football shirt. He could wear this with a modicum of pride as they had actually won a Euro qualifier game but we both agreed the lovely little prima donnas had to win ALL their remaining games to be sure of qualifying – this ridiculous “24 points from 30 should be enough” mentality is totally stupid, we want 30 points from 30 and then there is no doubt or waiting for other results to help you out! We shall see. Magnus could afford to be snug as Switzerland had already qualified through being joint host-nation with Austria. He very kindly did not rub it in though. As we were chatting our last roommate entered the dorm: JD (John by name) an American yoga instructor. He was en route to China to live where he will be teaching English (he speaks fluent Mandarin) and studying Chinese meditation techniques. I wished him the best of luck.
After chatting to these guys for a while I actually started my laundry off. I had a read whilst the wash cycle was going and then slung it all in the dryer. I had a small result with this as it already had credit on it and I didn’t need to feed it money – yippee!

After it was all done, folded up and put away (I was obviously feeling very domesticated at the time) I then had a sauna, shower and lay on my bed listening to some sounds. I did the usual wake up, get into bed and go back to sleep later – and dreamed of deserts.

Death Valley - Day 4

Happy Birthday Christy.
I gazed out over the desert scene around us taking in as much of it as I could before we departed. I took some photographs knowing that they wouldn’t do the view full justice but might look impressive all the same.

After creating, devouring and clearing up breakfast we boarded the Green tortoise for our journey back to San Francisco. On the way we would have a couple of stops. The first of these was; Mosaic Canyon.

Mosaic Canyon is just outside Stovepipe Wells Village and one has a wonderful little “mini-hike” to get to the canyon proper. The whole place is made up of marble deposits in all hues and colours with some of the rock surfaces rough and others polished and very smooth. Imagine trying to climb up a marble table tipped on its side and you will get an idea of how slippery polished marble is.

Having got into the canyon there is another 2-3 Km hike through it before one can scale the sides. In order to do this one has to traverse a few very narrow ridges. This is where I discovered that I suffer from natural vertigo. I am fine on tall buildings especially ones which have been there for many years as I know they won’t fall down and they usually have hand and/or safety rails. Out here one has a sheer drop either side or if not a sheer drop then a drop down a shale slope which would remove copious amounts of flesh and/or break bones and then be bloody hard to bordering on the impossible to climb back up again! I made several attempts at crossing this particular ridge before giving in to the inevitable – I was not meant to cross it. No matter; having accepted this fact I could just sit down and take in the view which sadly the photographs do not do proper justice to.

As everyone else started coming back I retraced my steps out of the canyon and felt no shame at still being able to walk and having full control over all my limbs for the hike back. This was fun in itself as it required climbing up (or down) mini-chimneys, ducking or crawling under natural bridges or arches and generally completing an “It’s a Knockout” course without the crazy foam or having to burst balloons! (The natural equivalent of the “greasy pole” or “slippery slope” was provided by the polished marble.)
Having got back to the starting point I was once again grateful to my trusty hiking boots for their sterling performance.

Our last stop in Death Valley National Park was for a group photo and after this we were all exchanging email addresses as we trundled on to our last stop – a hot pool!
Having parked up at the end of a huge lot which catered for RVs we set about preparing our last supper. Once again the communal camp kitchen performed admirably and we all ate our fill. There was an added incentive to this as after clearing up we were at liberty to visit the hot pool. This is a large swimming pool geothermally heated from the nearby hot springs.
Before entering the pool visitors are requested to take a shower – a wonderful request for those of us who hadn’t seen one for three days! Having enjoyed a lovely hot shower, with soap, I felt clean enough to plunge into the small pool located next to the main large pool. This is the “hot pool” and being only a metre deep and 10x5 metres in area was like jumping into a hot bath – it was lovely!

Having played about in the pools for a while it was a treat to get dried and into some clean clothes, after which it was back on the bus – now in sleeper mode – for the final leg of the journey back to San Francisco.

I settled down on the padded area at the back of the bus wrapped in my sleeping bag and feeling warm and clean fell into a peaceful sleep.

Death Valley - Day 3

Today most people were reflecting on the depth of temperature the previous night. The general consensus was “bloody freezing”, especially from the people who were in tents.

After breakfast we all climbed aboard the “magic bus” and headed for Ubehebe Crater. In fact there are two craters – Greater and Lesser Ubehebe – no prizes for guessing that one is bigger than the other. From where the bus dropped us off there is a short hike up to the top of the rim of Greater Ubebhebe and when one gets there it is most impressive. These craters were actually caused by an eruption of rock, as opposed to impact from meteors, and when one looks down into the larger one it does induce a feeling of vertigo. If one desires it is possible to hike down to the bottom of the crater and back again but I rejected this as the surface is loose sand and scree and getting back out again is a rather demanding challenge so I settled for walking around the rim.

On my rim walk I had Marcos as a companion. This guy was the life and soul of the party on our trip. He is a Spaniard with a typical dark Mediterranean look and was a great hit with the ladies and was travelling with Rea – a young lady from Cornwall who was great fun – as far as San Francisco before she headed off to LA. We got chatting about all sorts of things and got deeply into things spiritual and natural – not that silly made up religious stuff but things in line with the true spiritual races like the Native American Indians and Australian Aborigines. Walking around this huge crater makes one realise the true insignificance of man when compared to nature especially when one is surrounded by it! The views all around were stunning and big, i.e. where the sky meets the land is a long way away and one can have an uninterrupted view to the horizon. If this doesn’t make sense; go there and see for yourself it will become much clearer then. As one walks around the crater one gets wonderful views of the Last Chance Range and the Grapevine Mountains and if these don’t make you feel humble then you are an arsehole earning too much money, driving a large 16 and in severe need of ego deflation therapy! (You also probably think designer rip-off articles are worth the money! Get help before it is too late!)
After completing our circuit we boarded the bus and headed for our next destination; the Stovepipe Wells Sand Dunes.

When we got to our stopping point the dunes were clearly visible about 2-3 kilometres away and looked like a sea modelled in sand. The dunes form the waves – and do constantly shift – and the troughs in between are deeper than they look. In fact the whole thing about Death Valley, and the desert in general, is that it throws up a whole host of illusions and distance is very hard to judge unless one is experienced in desert-craft.

After the initial trek over rough ground between scattered scrub bushes one gets to the sand proper. This is fine and densely packed where it lies on a level. When it rears up into a dune it becomes soft and yielding, hence small dunes are just as hard to climb as a large one. The large dunes are of course firm and hard at the bottom where the sand is compressed but as one gets to the top the sand is loose and prone to slide very easily so the trick is to get some momentum running up the lower slope and then keep it going to the top finishing up with big wading steps. Warning; if you stop near the top, dig in and, if necessary, throw yourself flat against the dune because if you start sliding you’ll end up very near the bottom again! This is not only rather annoying it is also very exhausting and will consume a lot of your water.

Having gained the top of a very large dune I was quite content to walk along its crest and just look out over the rest of the dunes rolling into the distance. Some of the “youngsters” were playing Frisbee in one of the troughs and hurling the thing huge distances to each other.
Most of us gathered on a couple of crests to watch the sunset which was quite spectacular and then we started heading back to the bus. Apart from our appointed time to return we were all aware of how quickly the light would fade and how quickly the temperature would drop once the sun had set.

Another wonderful experience I will remember for the rest of my life was “sand surfing or skiing”. It is possible to just throw yourself off the top of a sand dune and roll down it or body surf down it. I didn’t want to do this as I didn’t want to eat a kilo of sand so I opted for the skiing method. I had removed my footwear as soon as I had got onto the proper sand as one just has to be barefoot to appreciate the temperature difference in the sand itself. On top it is hot to bloody hot, depending on how exposed it is and how baked it has been. Beneath the surface it is cool and one can bury ones feet in it and they will be quite comfortable. Dune skiing, in my opinion, has to be done barefoot. It is really exhilarating to be able to “ski” in giant strides down the side of a sand dune and makes the effort of climbing one worthwhile.
Having “skied” down all the sand dunes on the way back I replaced my footwear for the last stretch back to the bus. By this time it was heavy dusk and I could easily appreciate how people could get lost very easily without a light as a point of reference as the dunes and scrub bushes just intensified the dusk with their shadows. No one got lost or injured and we all returned safely and eager for dinner.

Once back at the campsite we set about food preparation in earnest and soon had dinner prepared with the aid of some cleverly mounted lights on the bus as it was fully dark by now.
After dinner was cleared away some people, not many, were going to make the hike to a nearby hotel where they could shower and use the pool. Along with the majority – especially when we found out the pool was of the outdoor variety - I declined this offer as I didn’t want to get chilled or cold. I could still remember how bloody cold it was last night and I was comfortably encased in my hoodie and coat and quite warm enough thank you very much (still wished I’d brought my gloves though) and didn’t want to disturb this delicate equilibrium.

The people remaining all congregated around the fire, once we’d got it going, and the laugh of the night became Rea. She had wandered round the camp asking if anyone wanted anything from the local store – about a 20 minute walk away – as she was going to it. About two hours later she came and asked me again if I wanted anything from the store. I along with everyone else nearby all exclaimed that she asked us that two hours ago and questioned why she hadn’t gone yet! It was all done good naturedly as it was very easy to get chatting to various people as they moved about the campsite and to and from the fire. Eventually she went and when she returned we all asked her if she was going to the store and/or could she get... when she went to the store. It was one of those things where it was funnier to be there and Rea was a great laugh with a wicked sense of humour. The star of the show this night was John, an English guy who worked at the hostel. He was dispensing wonderful dry English humour which had me in stitches and passed over the heads of some of the more retarded Yanks. Paul, one of our drivers was pretty in tune with this and we had a great laugh whilst we sat about toasting marshmallows.

When the fire eventually died and we had nothing more to feed it with we all turned in for the night which was a damn sight less cold than last night. I could easily tell it wasn’t as cold because I didn’t need to put my coat hood up – in fact I actually took my coat off just before I slid into my sleeping bag. I slept soundly that night.

Death Valley - Day 2

We pulled into the campsite, which was very sparsely populated as it was “off-season”, and soon set about preparing breakfast. This was a group effort with everyone doing something to concoct a very good – surprisingly so for most people, me included – and filling breakfast. We also made our own lunch to take with us and were encouraged to fill any water bottles or containers we had for the hike.

After clearing and cleaning up we all boarded the bus – which had been “un-miracled” back into seats – and headed for our drop off point from which we would do our first hike.
The bus dropped us off at Zabriske Point and we would hike through to Golden Canyon where the bus would pick us up again.

The hike was wonderful, through a beautiful valley which was a river valley caught in stone. One can easily see what it was before the water went away – it is total rock and desert now – and I collared Eleanor to ask her questions about what we were looking at. I did keep checking to make sure she didn’t mind me playing amateur geologist with her and told her she only had to tell me to piss off when she had had enough. She was obviously too polite to do this and when we had a break for lunch I left her in peace. The place was amazing though, especially when one realises this used to be full of water, as it is real desert (as opposed to fake desert) with hot sun beating down onto the rocks and into the valleys and stealing any available moisture. I can testify to this as the backs of my hands and my lips were dry by the end of the day. I drank plenty of water on the hike and kept it to “little and often” rather than downing a litre in one go.
After getting back on the bus we were driven to our next location: Badwater Basin the lowest point in Death Valley and North America at 65.5m below sea level. This was quite different as it is a sunken valley which always has standing water in it – rather obviously as it is below sea level. After having a walk out on the salt flats we all boarded the bus and headed back to the campsite as the sun was setting.

Next came dinner preparation, which again was a group effort and was soon prepared. After dinner and clearing up we all congregated around the fire pit and got a camp fire going. This turned into a mini party with beers being produced and consumed. Some people had brought tents and would be camping out whilst the rest of us would be sleeping on the bus. It also became very apparent at how quickly the temperature drops and by how much – it was getting very cold.

The temperature dropped so much that I had donned all my layers: t-shirt, sweatshirt, hoodie, hat and jacket. I also wished I had brought my thermal gloves as my hands and face were the only things left exposed. It got so cold that the only thing I removed before crawling into my sleeping bag was my boots!

I do not know what the actual temperature dropped to during the night but it certainly felt below freezing in any temperature scale. I did have to get up in the early hours of the morning in order to have a wee. I did briefly consider not bothering to get up as it would create some warmth, but realised that any liquid in this environment would cool and more likely freeze so I did get up.

Death Valley - Day 1

I spent the day at the hostel only popping out to get some lunch. I caught up on some more of my travel journal, downloaded the latest photographs from my camera and organised all my photographs so far into separate folders for the places I had been so far. I felt rather pleased with myself that I had caught up with everything as I would have to rely on memory and written notes for the next four days.

When they started to prepare the evening meal I packed up, stashed my bag that I was leaving behind in the storage room, and joined the group going on the trip in the reception area. Quite a few of them were getting taxis down to the bus station where we would pick up the Green Tortoise “magic bus”.

There were four of us left and a seeming absence of free taxis so I was all in favour of walking especially as it wasn’t far anyway. We set off and I started chatting to Eleanor, a Welsh girl who was living in Leeds and finishing a degree in geology. I made the observation that this should be an interesting trip for her.

We found the bus station with no real difficulty and found the place we had to be with just a little more. Other people joined the little group who had come from the Green Tortoise hostel and we all awaited the arrival of the bus. As is the case we got chatting amongst ourselves and introductions were made.

The Green Tortoise arrived and we all got checked on by our drivers/hosts Seena and Paul. Our luggage was all stored in the luggage lockers as space on the bus was at a premium. When I got on I realised why, this was a sleeper bus which had a large cushioned area at the back, two sections of bench seats and tables and two bench seats at the front. We all found somewhere to sit and off we went through the rain which had started falling on San Francisco.

We would be driving overnight to arrive at our campsite in Death Valley tomorrow morning for breakfast. There would be one stop on the way for the purchasing of snacks, beverages and anything else one might have forgotten and visiting toilets – although there was one on the bus it was recommended to use this only in an emergency as it was just like the ones on Greyhound buses; i.e. a bucket of chemicals plus whatever one deposits in it, and after three days it would be rather full if used by everyone regularly!

During the stop “the miracle” was worked on the bus, and what a miracle it was. This converted all the tables and bench seats into bed spaces and the luggage racks formed top bunks. I very fortunately claimed one of the “bottom bunks” which was under what used to be a table. This, in hindsight, was a very good choice as it was low and didn’t suffer much shaking about when the bus was travelling over less than smooth surfaces. I got a pretty good sleep and awoke to bright sunshine as we were approaching Death Valley itself.

San Fransisco - Day 7

First thing after breakfast I booked my trip to Death Valley. I took the option of hiring a sleeping bag – as I hadn’t brought one with me (for space reasons alone) – and got all the details for the trip. They supplied me with a very useful “things to take” list so I set about purchasing the very few items I didn’t already have. I also took the precaution of buying some more batteries for my camera as there would not be any facilities for recharging my rechargeable ones. Then I went in search of coffee and had a walk down to the pyramid shaped building to find out exactly what it is called – The Transamerica Pyramid – so now we all know.

Still in Zeppelin mode I returned to the hostel and sat on the steps alongside it listening to the rest of “The BBC Sessions” in the warm California sunshine. This is another gem I must listen to more often as one can hear things taking shape on it, with many promises of the “Shapes of Things” to come! (A little in joke about The Yardbirds mother.) It also has a lovely introduction, by the much missed and totally wonderful John Peel, to the “Peel Sessions” tracks.
When it was finished I thought it would be best to get everything ready, so I returned to my dorm and packed my rucksack. I opted for the big rucksack as I could get everything I wanted into it quite comfortably.

Knowing it would be cold in the desert when the sun went down I packed my hoodie and woolly hat, I will wear my waterproof jacket so I hope I have all the bases covered. Having finished packing everything I was going to take with me, I headed for the ballroom and caught up with some more travel log.

As it had got to evening time I packed up and then went out for something to eat. After this I felt rather tired so I returned to the hostel had a sauna and shower and just lay on my bed listening to music.

I woke up several hours later, got into bed and went back to sleep.

San Francisco - Day 6

Having had a good sleep, I awoke refreshed and recharged. I thought I would do some more exploring in a different part of downtown San Francisco.

Having got to Union Square I rewarded myself with a coffee and then set off towards Golden Gate Park – or Golden Gate golf course as I renamed it as it seemed to be one long golf course. I believe it was George Bernard Shaw who described the game of golf as a good walk ruined, but I could be wrong. It isn’t the game I detest so much it is the sad deluded idiots who take it so seriously that they have to dress as pimps, prats or prostitutes to play it and then pretend that anything which happens on a golf course actually means something in the great scheme of life. Never mind, I left them to their pursuits and headed off back into downtown.

Taking a different route back I found myself in the Nob Hill area and ended up walking to the top of Nob Hill. The last part was almost achieved on all fours as the bloody thing is so steep – I mean really steep – that one doesn’t walk up it, but one climbs it! By the time I got to the top I just wanted to plant a flag and pose for photographs. When I looked back down it I felt a real sense of achievement at getting here without oxygen, crampons or pitons – or a team of Sherpas!

Having recovered I decided to check the map for nearby attractions. Ah-ha the Cable Car Museum is not far from here, and it is downhill (what isn’t from the top of Nob Hill?). I will head for it.

This place was a little treasure and free to enter. It isn’t just a museum; it is the powerhouse of the San Francisco cable car system – literally, as it houses the winch engines which drive the whole system – all four lines. I spent a couple of hours wandering around it absorbing interesting facts and watching the big wheels spin.

The cables travel at a constant 9.5 mph and there is a very interesting exhibit showing how they are repaired and/or replaced during the night when the cable cars don’t run.

The gripper pads are made of cedar – which is why one can often smell a lovely aroma from the cars themselves – as it doesn’t produce oily sap thereby allowing a good grip on the cable. I will not go on further as this will only be of interest to train spotters.

After leaving the museum I grabbed something to eat and then headed back to the hostel.
I had been mulling it over in my head on the way back to the hostel and reached the decision that I would go on the Green Tortoise Death Valley trip. I made enquiries at the main desk and the very helpful young lady gave me all the details but couldn’t take my booking as that is done by the travel office – behind the main desk – and that was shut for the day, however, it will be open in the morning. I will return!

I settled for a sauna, shower and bed.

San Francisco - Day 5

I had decided to visit Alcatraz today and it seemed that I had made a good choice as the day was bright and sunny with clear skies. I wasn’t daft though because I knew it would be much cooler in the middle of San Francisco Bay and so I wore my big coat and packed my sweatshirt in my backpack.

Suitably prepared I set off for Pier 33 where the Alcatraz tours run from.

My timing was pretty good as I got there with fifteen minutes to spare, so by the time I had got my ticket and joined the queue it was beginning to move.
The ferries are quite large and have on deck and below deck seating. I chose to sit “up top” for the journey out as it was nice and bright, but I did have my hat on, my coat done up and the hood up over my hat. The wind coming off the bay was rather sharp and had a nasty way of numbing any exposed flesh it could get to.

The journey to the island takes about half an hour and one can get some good views of the bay and the San Francisco skyline. I tried to put myself in the mindset of a prisoner being brought here as I watched the city get smaller and the island get closer and bigger. All the promotional literature about Alcatraz always quotes Rule 5: “You are entitled to food, shelter and basic medical care. Everything else is a privilege.” If any prisoners didn’t know or understand the meaning of the word then they must have soon learned, especially as any form of rule infringement would cost him (it was an all male prison) all or some of any privilege/s earned. I have to admit the place does look rather daunting as one gets closer to it. I was just glad I knew I had the luxury of being able to get a ferry back – the very next one if I desired!

Having landed at the dock one is free to view the introductory film and some exhibits covering the prison staff, the prisoners and the occupiers! The occupiers were Native Americans who occupied the island to claim it for “The Indian Nation and All Tribes” which had a great unifying effect on all the Indian tribes and they occupied the place for 18 months or more gaining huge public support. One of the items in this part of the exhibit is an interview with one of the organisers. In the interview he is asked what his main enduring memory of Alcatraz was. His answer is very short and succinct; “being cold” he said. This I can believe very easily as the island sits in the middle of San Francisco Bay and the wind off the water is ever present and has nasty sharp teeth to it. On the day I was there it was bright and sunny but I never took my coat off. If I stood in the sun I was in the wind and that negated any warming effect the sunshine had. If I stood in a sheltered spot it was out of the direct sunshine and negated any warming effect – so basically it was a no-win situation.

The audio tour around the cellblock is narrated by former inmates and guards at the prison and is most informative and very well done. It also covers the “great escape” in which three people disappeared from the island – no bodies were ever found and none of them were ever recaptured – see Clint Eastwood’s “Escape from Alcatraz” for what might have happened.
Having walked around the whole island I headed for the dock to catch the ferry.

Having returned to the mainland I decided to eat and headed for Pier 39. I opted for Baba Gump’s as I wanted to try one of their shrimp dishes.

Yes, the whole place is themed on Forrest Gump and this one had loads of backstage shots and photos of the places used in the film – like Forrest’s house – and details of their locations. The food was very good and the shrimps in my starter were two bites big, unless you have a big mouth. Having managed to demolish three courses I left Pier 39 and headed for the hostel.
Having waddled back to Broadway I got to my dorm and felt completely knackered. Thinking; “what the hell, I feel really tired” I was in bed by 9:30 and soundly asleep shortly after.

San Francisco - Day 4

Coite Tower


The view from the top


Lombard Street with Coite Tower & Telegraph Hill in the background

Well today started interestingly. After a slow start I decided to get to the post office to post off some more scrap book fodder to Mother’s. Programming a playlist of Living Colour and Led Zeppelin (of course – the Gods of Rock would have played their gig by now) live albums I donned my shades – bright and sunny here in San Francisco – and hit the streets.

It is only a few blocks round the corner to Washington Park and the post office is right opposite. I had got to the first corner, where I “make a left”, and this guy standing on the corner goes all rigid and falls over right in front of me trembling from head to toe. Not being American I did not step over him but immediately went to help. My extensive medical training (Boy Scouts First Aid badge and St. John First Aid) [for those of you having an “American moment”: yes – I am taking the piss] told me this guy was having an epileptic fit (petit mal was my diagnosis). Realising there is nothing one can do for this apart from make the poor soul a bit more comfortable I remembered my ABC – didn’t put my fingers in his mouth (I had no gloves anyway) and when he started foaming gently from the mouth put him in the recovery position, put his news paper under his head and then looked up. Three ladies had stopped, one was calling 911 and another was joining me kneeling on the sidewalk asking if I knew him. “No, I was just passing.” I said. Within five minutes (probably more like three) two fire engines arrived, one cleared off when the scene had been appraised, and two paramedics leapt out armed with a variety of bags. (The Fire Department run the ambulances – the public ones – and all fire crews contain paramedics. It appears to be a very good system.) Realising I was superfluous to requirements I took my leave. As I was doing so the guy was returning to consciousness and looking very confused. The remainder of my journey to the post office was quite normal.

I decided to head for Coit Tower today. This is a tower built from a legacy by Mrs. Coit to her beloved San Francisco. It stands at the top of Telegraph Hill and commands some amazing views of the city and the bay. To get to the top one takes an elevator (it does have stairs but they were shut) and the reason I mention this is for reasons of ridicule.

Having purchased a ticket from the gift shop (aaaah aaah) one takes it round to the lift door and presses the button to summon the lift (I’m sure everyone is with me so far). The lift arrives and the lift operator takes one’s ticket, punches a hole in it and invites one into the lift. Once the lift is full (depending on how many people are waiting) the operator pushes the button to close the door and then pushes the top button to get the lift to rise to the top of the tower. As we journeyed upwards I was looking round the lift at the pictures and notices on the walls – pretty, informative, that sort of stuff – when I noticed it! Stuck on the lift wall next to the doors was a sign reading... (you’ve probably guessed it) TIPS underneath which was a plastic wallet folder for collecting them! When I saw this I had to bite my cheek to stop myself from laughing out loud. There was money in it so I assume other people thought that the operator pressed the buttons with a degree of panache and skill which was beyond the average customer! Needless to say I did not add to it and merely thanked the guy on the way out.

Having walked all the way around the tower taking pictures as I went I decided I would walk up “the most crooked street”, which can be seen from the tower. This is actually part of Lombard Street which drops a good 50 metres in a very short distance and the road zigzags its way down it. It is a one-way street and one can only go down it.

Having descended the tower – no tip for gravity – that is exactly what I did. Fortunately the pavement (sidewalk) is actually a flight of steps which can be walked up in a straight line. It is a residential street and there were lots of tourists (myself included) wandering up and down it. I am not sure I would like to live in it with a steady parade of people going past all taking photographs; however it was quite a sight to see. Having got to the top of the hill I found I was about level with the top of Telegraph Hill!
Luckily enough there is a cable car stop at the top of the hill and one had stopped, so I got on. In comparative terms this is a very expensive form of transport – that is when compared to the buses – as it is a $5 flat fare; however it is novel and quite exciting especially when one goes downhill.

When I got back to the hostel I saw on the notice board that today one could get free admission to The Beat Museum. This was literally one block down Broadway from the hostel. I kicked myself for not noticing it sooner as I only had about an hour to look round it. It is dedicated to “the Beat Generation” centring on Jack Kerouac and his journeys and exploits. I have to confess I haven’t read any of his work, but have vowed to correct this and believe that “On The Road” is the place to start. He has also written a book called “Big Sur” which is just down the road from here and is one of many National Parks nearby. I have promised myself I will read some Kerouac when I have finished my current book. To do this though I must put in some more reading time.

Having been “thrown out” of another museum I decided to eat and headed for Little Italy. I wanted to try “The Stinking Rose – a garlic restaurant” but every time I approached it was always full and appeared to be very popular. Never mind The Steppes of Rome had space, so in I went.
I had a lovely three course meal accompanied by some superb coffee and all served to me by a beautiful young lady. I could think of some more ways it could get better than this but that would just be fantasy – so I settled for a lovely meal and some radiant smiles.

Having eaten to satisfaction, I waddled back to the hostel. Feeling rather full I decided sitting up would be best, rather than lying down, so I got out the laptop and played a Supreme Commander skirmish. I am very pleased to say that I was victorious and felt a lot more comfortable afterwards – digestion having worked. I refrained from having “just one more” as I thought I would visit Alcatraz tomorrow if the weather is fine.

Having packed everything up I enquired about the sauna, which was free, so I treated myself to one and went to bed feeling all warm and relaxed and was asleep before the nightclubs really started going!

San Francisco - Day 3

Today was a rest & recovery day, so I managed to catch up on some blog updates – although I haven’t posted them yet. I must finish all my DC entries and get them posted – then I can finish my Vegas ones.

I eventually stirred about 11:00 and crept up to the shower. That woke me up a little, at least enough to go in search of coffee.

Having procured coffee I returned to the hostel and set myself up in the ballroom and spent the majority of the day there writing up my blog entries.

As it was getting near to dinner time (today was one of the free dinner nights in the hostel) I decided to pack up and return to my room.

When I got there Toby – another of my roommates from England – had got himself a new toy. It was a small laptop running Linux – therefore requiring no software licence – and he was “over the moon” with it. He had originally gone to purchase a second external hard drive as he had all his photographs from his travels stored on a little pocket drive. He did get an external drive, plus the laptop, and all for a very reasonable price. He asked me if I would mind copying his photographs from his pocket drive to the external drive using my laptop. “Not at all” I said and so we connected the drives to my laptop and set the copy going. When he saw it would take two hours he was most apologetic, but I just laughed it off saying they were “Microsoft hours” – and could therefore be anything from 30 to 90 minutes long – and I was going to have dinner anyway so it could sit there and “do its thing” while we ate. We did and it did and when we returned it only had ten minutes remaining.

When it was all finished he connected up the hard drive and was very pleased to be able to see everything on it, and also have a backup of his precious data. This is a sentiment I share as I have two external USB drives I back everything up to (alternately, of course) as I am paranoid about losing all my travel data & photographs.

As I was knackered from being up most of the night before I rewarded myself with a sauna and bed.

San Francisco - Day 2

I was up surprisingly early this morning and easily in time for breakfast.

Cat hadn’t managed to return, but Xavier had so I passed the comment that “The Cat obviously found some prey.” He said he wasn’t quite sure what happened but he was hoping for a result reversal tonight as tonight was “gay night” – last night had been “straight night”. I wished him a pleasant day and went off smiling.

I was on the street in bright sunshine with clear blue skies and it was very warm until I got in the shade nearer the bay and then the wind confiscated the warmth rather effectively. No matter as I had the magic coat which I either removed if it was warm and sunny or put on and/or did up if I was in the shade and the wind was blowing – DIY climate control!
I had only got a short way down Broadway when this woman approached me and introduced herself (I have forgotten the name she used) asked where I was from and my name, told me she was starting work next week (over there” – pointing to “The Garden of Eden” (clang) – as a stripper (clang clang) and offered me a good time for $20 (alarm bells off scale). Although the price was quite appealing I’m afraid the “lady” was not. She did give a good sales pitch saying she had prono movies, costumes, condoms and liked to have fun. (I was beginning to wish Xavier were with me so he could help me out of this mess.) I did my diplomatic best not to ask if the costumes came with full face masks and gently declined her very kind offer. She did say that if I changed my mind Room 308 at the Park Hotel (on Broadway, San Francisco) I was welcome to “come up and see her” – so if any readers are heading for San Fran and want to take advantage of this information; please tell her “Phil sent you” and then she might lift the obvious curse she must have put on me! As I was making my getaway she did shift tack and ask if I could donate $5 to her breakfast fund. I hit her with the “cashless and on cards” ploy but she was obviously one step ahead of me as she pointed over my shoulder and said “there’s a machine there” – which of course there was – “I’ll wait if you want, just $5 to get some breakfast.” I do at least catch up fast as I know ATMs only dispense $10 and $20 bills – so I just started chuckling; I had to admire her cunning and guile if nothing else. I just had to resort to lying then and said I was meeting someone at Coite Tower (I will probably go there tomorrow) and had to be going. With this I walked briskly away still chuckling and made sure I was a safe distance away before I let myself start laughing. Oh well Phil, you’re 49 years old and still got it enough to be approached by hookers! I allowed my ego to take whatever it wanted from this and carried on up the road still chuckling.

I was heading for the Museum of Modern Art, or SFMOMA as it is labelled – I will visit Coite Tower another day. They have a Olafur Eliasson exhibition on at the moment and I was keen to see it after being most impressed by his sun exhibit at Tate Modern.

My walk took me right through Chinatown which was thronged with people and full of sights, sounds, colours and smells – some pleasant and some not so. At the bottom, or top depending on which way one is heading, of Stockton Street is a Virgin Megastore and I went in more on autopilot than anything else. There were two reasons for this: 1) I love music, records and CDs (probably in that order) and 2) it was the first “real shop” I had seen – i.e. not one of those designer crap houses selling things I have no interest in whatsoever. However, imagine my joy and delight when I found the remastered version of The Song Remains The Same – including all the tracks they should have put on it first time around – and a Living Colour CD recorded live in New York in 1989 which I hadn’t got (note past tense)! I was back in Union Square happy as a pig in poo and it was only just afternoon! At least if I suffered the same fete with MOMA as I did in New York I would still be happy (plus I would try again tomorrow or in the week). I thought the shoe-shine pitch just outside the Starmucks next door summed up the spirit of America perfectly. They had several signs up which read: “Take a picture – pay $1”, “Like the jazz (playing on a boom box) – pay $1”, “Local information – pay $1” in short: god bless the American Dream and its pursuit. I felt like adding another sign saying “Do/don’t like our mercenary attitude – pay $1”, I feel quite sure they would have kept it up!

As I was strolling down the road with a coffee I encountered “the nutters”. The first was an idiot carrying a sign saying “Jesus Christ Loves You”, he grabbed my arm and said right in my face “Sir! Jesus Christ loves you!” I responded by pulling my arm free, fixing him with one of my laser-guided-missile-will-kill-on-impact looks and said “So does my Mother and she has done more to help me than Jesus Christ.” He looked suitably taken aback, and speechless, so I carried on walking feeling rather pleased with my speed of response. The next nutter was relatively harmless to humans as he was preaching to a row of pigeons lined up along the rail of the entrance to the BART station (San Fran’s underground system). I gave him a wide berth, just like everyone else was doing.

I had a little trouble locating SFMOMA as a “helpful” sign pointed in a misleading – or misinterpreted – direction and I ended up walking around it before getting to the entrance. This was no matter as I stood and listened to some blistering electric guitar playing blasting out of this second floor window above a closed down shop – No 667 to be precise – so I forgave the sign (or myself) for being misleading.

I got my ticket and went in only to be confronted by an electric fan suspended from the ceiling and whizzing about the lobby like a drunken pendulum (the theme will form later)! This was the first of Mr. Eliasson’s pieces and is called “Ventilator”. As there was only five minutes to wait I decided to do just that and join one of the public tours they have every hour.

Our guide Dan explained that the tours are designed to concentrate on one piece from every exhibition (most of them are permanent) and then leave the visitor to decide which they want to go back to in order to experience more. The tour started at the top – fifth – floor and worked its way down. We all got in the elevator (lift for English speakers) and went up to the fifth floor.
When we stepped out of the lift we were greeted by...

An uncomfortable yellow light, very strong especially given the white walls and ceiling it was reflected from. All colour was drained from everything, all clothes and faces looked pale and neutralised – Mr. Eliasson’s work – the experience was very odd. Our guide was throwing out questions to provoke responses from us all, which he got.
Having lingered here for a little while we went through “the time tunnel” which had a very open latticed floor and spanned the open space of the museum allowing a very long look down to the atrium floor!

We descended through two more floors viewing photographic and collage work from artist whose names I cannot remember but knew when I saw them. I have to apologise for my lack of memory over this as I am writing this retrospectively and have very cleverly sent the guide back to the UK along with a load of other “scrapbook fodder”. The pieces the guide picked out to show us were very evocative and I went back to view the galleries fully after the tour finished. The last floor contained some more work – the permanent exhibition – by Olafur Eliasson including the frozen BMW one had to walk into a freezer to view. Blankets were provided and I used one despite having my wonder jacket done up and my woolly hat on as the temperature was kept at a constant 26F!

I did work my way back up through the galleries making sure I had a good hour and a half to view the “Take Your Time” exhibition. Some of the installations were very simple and yet so effective – like the very fine water spray dropping from the ceiling with a single spotlight shining through it at an oblique angle. The effect as one walked around and through it ranged from a cloud to a rainbow just hanging in the room. This guy is a genius at creating images, illusions, altered perspectives and quite simply "fucking with your head". Some of the pieces could disorient one just by looking at them – astounding. If the exhibition comes anywhere near you I recommend making the effort to go and see it!

Having exhausted my time (got thrown out of another museum) I went in search of food as I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, nor felt the hunger which was obviously there until I hit the street.

When I got back to my room I got a bunch of “souvenir stuff” together to post back to Mother along with a book I had picked up for my mate Bruce. I was just writing a couple of short notes to go with the posted material when Cat and Xavier came in. They were heading for Castros (San Fran’s gay district) tonight so I wished Xavier “best of luck”. I was privileged to witness their double-act as they got ready and just spent the whole time laughing. I was rather flattered when they occasionally used me as a foil for their jokes and good natured jibes at each other. Eventually they were ready and they left. By the way: Stu, if you are reading this I have to let you know you will have to do a hell of a lot of work on your “gay dance” for it to ever be convincing to me again!

I finished my notes and got ready to listen to some sweet music.
Having ripped my latest acquisitions into MP3 format and transferred them to my Zen I was all set up for tomorrow’s walking trip accompanied by some good music. Anyone needing spiritual enlightenment and wanting to hear the Voice of God – listen to “Since I’ve Been Loving You” on the remastered Song Remains The Same CD set. The intro alone brings tears to my eyes and I have yet to hear a piece of music which moves me as much as this one. It further reinforces my opinion that Jimmy Page is the greatest guitar player alive today – and yes, that does include Les Paul! Vernon Reid would also rate in my top five (and he was born in England) as would Living Colour as a band – just listen to “Time’s Up” and count the timing changes.

As I just wanted to relax for a while, and there was no one else in the dorm I decided to play some more Civ4: i) because I think it is wonderful, and ii) one can select whatever music goes with it – so no prizes for guessing what I chose.

Having expanded my empire sufficiently and heard all my new music I decided to turn in for the night. Just before doing so I went to the toilet. On the way back I was surprised to see Cat & Xavier back.
“What are you doing back so soon?” I asked Cat, “and how come he didn’t pull wearing that jacket?” I added as I caught sight of Xavier sitting at one of the Internet terminals. (Xavier had this lovely powder blue crushed velvet jacket with same colour embroidery on the back. I use the term “lovely” advisedly.) The problem was he had gone out looking for a date rather than just “to pull”. He went off to hit the Internet computers in order to check their flight bookings – they were leaving tomorrow – and was then heading for bed. Cat was going to stay up as they were due to leave at 5:00 and i was now 2:00.

I very sportingly said I would stay up with her as long as I could before I fell asleep just to keep her company. After chatting for an hour or so about all manner of things (yes, politics did come into it) we ventured into the ballroom to see what was going on. This is where we encountered Adam & Brian two drunken blokes from England and Ireland respectively. They were playing pool and at the sight of Cat started going into “macho cockerel” mode.
We sat there watching and I introduced Cat to the many and varied derivations of the term “wanker” and explained that not all English or Irish men were, but alcohol usually has the magic effect of ensuring the state. This was when she got a wicked glint in her eye and I knew she was going to play. As an avid people watcher I was given a ring-side seat while she manipulated and toyed with these two idiots. There were times when I was literally crying with laughter watching a very confident woman play with two drunken males – like a Cat does with a mouse (or mice).

As I was nearly asleep by this time I had to bid Cat good night, or more properly good morning, and crawled off to bed.

I did hear Xavier get up – he was in the bunk above me – and so I surfaced long enough to say farewell to him, and Cat when she came into the dorm to collect her already packed bag, and wish them both a safe journey and best of luck in their life ventures. They wished me a good, safe and happy trip and off they went to the airport.

I crawled back into bed and went to sleep.

San Francisco - Day 1

Well I have to say that in daylight the part of Broadway I am staying in isn’t as bad as I at first thought. It goes to show what a difference sunshine and blue skies can make to a place – even the sleazy end of downtown San Francisco.

After breakfast I headed down stairs to enjoy a cigarette on the steps and encountered other fellow lepers there. (Smoking is allowed in the ballroom between the hours of 21:00 and 04:00.) As usual amongst the outcasts conversations are struck up and introductions are made. I met Amber and Corrine, two girls from Hawaii who had been up to Vancouver and Seattle. They had stayed in the Green Tortoise there and so we started comparing notes and waxing lyrical about the staff. We all mentioned Mike, Miguel and Simone (who apparently is from Hawaii too) in our reminiscences and I promised to mention them in dispatches to Mike & Miguel when I emailed them later today. (I had told them I would stay in the GT in San Fran when I got here.) Having recounted stories and had a good laugh at our respective adventures in Seattle we urged anyone going there to stay in the Green Tortoise as it was loads of fun and very conveniently placed for everything one would want to see.

After parting company with my new acquaintances I headed into Little Italy in search of coffee. I thought this would be a sure fire bet as there are loads of cafes & restaurants to choose from and not a Starmucks in sight.

My usual orientation walk lasted the whole day. As one does in San Francisco one tries to avoid the really steep hills by taking a flatter route – which invariably means walking four times as far!
This was no matter as it took me down to the waterfront and along The Embarcadero which I walked along past all the piers. I made a note of Pier 33 which is where the Alcatraz tours/ferries operate from and Pier 39 which is famous for fish restaurants, entertainments – including a big carousel – and sea lions. The sea lions live on floating platforms off the left-hand side of the pier as one walks up it and they make a hell of a racket at dusk. Apparently the pier/harbour authorities were going to move them out but they are such an attraction for visitors they actually put down more rafts for them to bask on. They are smelly noisy buggers but quite sweet to watch just lazing about.

Having got as far as Fisherman’s Wharf and Hyde Street Pier it was getting dusk and starting to get chilly, so I decided to get something to eat and head back to the hostel.
two of my roommates entered. I had said “hello” to them before but we hadn’t actually exchanged introductions – until now.

They turned out to be Cat & Xavier (pronounced in the Spanish way as “Havier”) both Americans from Ohio. They were old college mates and obviously real good friends; in fact they were like a double-act. Cat was a predatory female and Xavier was a very good looking gay man. We went through the introductions and exchanges of places of origin and the “what brings you to San Francisco” process. Xavier is moving here to take a job and Cat came along to keep him company. Cat completely took me unawares when she said “Honey, I just gotta tell you, you really have got sexy legs. I couldn’t help admiring them this morning; I thought Harvey Keitel was in the room.” I instantly blushed and fell about laughing, although I was rather flattered and thanked her for the compliment.
We chatted for a while and had a good laugh. They both had good senses of humour and were genuinely nice people and instantly likeable. They were off out to a nightclub and so set about getting ready.

It really was an evening for meeting roommates, as a couple of guys came in and said “hello” and we got onto the usual questions of “where are you from/going?” and “where have you been?” These were Matt, from Michigan and Mike from Sydney. We all got involved in a three-way discussion about American foreign policy and involvement in illegal & immoral wars. (No I didn’t start it!) Matt echoed the same sentiments I had heard before from his fellow countrymen – that of total disagreement with his government’s actions. Having cleared the topic of world politics we then moved on to home politics and I raised the despicable capitalistic practice of tipping. This was a baton Mike took up too. Matt tried to do his best in justifying the unjustifiable, but we just shot him down in flames every time. The usual arguments are:-
The minimum wage in the US is very low and people rely on their tips. The response: that is not our problem but that of your labour movement to secure decent living wages for workers. It shouldn’t be up to customers to pay staff wages directly from tips.
If tips weren’t given then the cost of that would have to be reflected in the price of goods. The response: This would be more honest and then people would just pay the price – not expected to cough up what is in effect an additional tax of 10-20%. Effectively the customer is paying people for a job they are being paid for and just boosting the company owner’s profits!
The other point Mike & I made was that the tips were expected – regardless of the level of service – and this was plainly absurd. Matt did try to argue that gratuities weren’t expected but up to the customers’ discretion, but we just flattened his argument by stating that the only “discretion” the customer was expected to exercise was the level of tip! He had to concede that one. We all parted quite amicably to do various things – mine being my laundry.

Having completed the necessary evil of folding up my clean clothes I rewarded myself by going to bed.

Las Vegas to San Francisco

I awoke unaided by alarms and was having breakfast by 9:00.

My plans, after check-out, were walk to the Convention Center and then get the monorail to MGM Grand. As this is virtually on top of the airport a cab couldn’t cost more than $10-15 and it should be easy to get one from there.

I got to the Convention Center and encountered lots of retarded people wearing costumes ranging from the silly to ridiculous and all topped off by big cowboy hats. Yes, the NFR was in town and I was glad I was leaving. The silly costumes weren’t just confined to the men, oh no, when it comes to looking retarded red-neck it is full on equal opportunities! (That goes for width and height too.)

I caught the monorail with no problem which was quick, efficient and, being elevated, offered some good views of the sprawl and glitz of Vegas. I got off at the MGM Grand (it is the last stop anyway) and proceeded through the casino – no surprise that one has to go through it to get anywhere!

As this is the venue for next Sunday’s Hatton v Mayweather fight there were plenty of vociferous “Hitman” supporters about. It was quite heartening to hear a bunch of British accents in evidence.

When I got to “the great outdoors” – remember the tip: head for “Main Lobby” – I joined a queue for taxis. As I was standing there one of the concierges came along the line announcing a shuttle to the airport for anyone who was wanting to get there. That will do me and at $6 I left the queue and joined the small group of people heading for the indicated mini-bus.

Having got to the airport in plenty of time I could relax a bit. I checked in and Jason, the man on the check-in desk, suddenly thrust his hand over the counter at me. I instinctively shook his hand and as I did he said “Happy Birthday Philip.” I was quite chuffed that he had noticed and thanked him for his wishes.

Having got rid of my luggage I then proceeded through security to the departure gate. After a bit of book reading the flight was called and we all embarked. The plane was an Airbus A320 and I have to say the most comfortable one I have ever been on. I don’t know if it is a special Virgin specification but all the seats are soft leather and have a full media service. OK so you have to pay for the films if you want to watch them – or have the time – but everything else is free. One can even order food and/or drinks from the on-screen menus. Being a simple soul; I was impressed. I opted for some more book reading and as the aircraft was only half full I had a whole row to myself – excellent no lard-arse gorging lump to encroach on my space!

I do regret not bothering to have my camera with me as I had chosen a window seat, and as the plane took off I had wonderful views of the Strip, Las Vegas and the surrounding mountains, especially when we banked over it.

The flight was smooth and uneventful (best thing for them really) and we landed at San Francisco International Airport in the rain! I thought this was a bit of an omen as the same thing had happened to me in Las Vegas, but I wasn’t deterred. Due to my recent haircut I was unable to get the flowers to stay in my hair – so I gave up.

I located the shuttle bus departure bay and headed for The Green Tortoise hostel. I would see if this one was as good as the one in Seattle.

When I got out of the shuttle bus, in the steady rain, I found I was in the heart of the porno district – oh yippee (ironic) – but I didn’t let that put me off. I checked in and fond the desk staff to be the usual friendly people who make you welcome and seem genuinely pleased to see you.

Having secured a map of downtown San Francisco I found the hostel was wonderfully located right next to Little Italy and Chinatown – so no end of choice for eating establishments. If I really felt the desire there were also three night clubs, several strip clubs, a few “movie” theatres and a host of sex toy shops to choose from – so it seemed that all forms of entertainment was covered within easy walking distance!

Having dumped my bags I then went out exploring in the rain. Trying to look my gayest to deter the guys outside the strip clubs from trying to convince me to come in I opted for a Chinese restaurant for food.

Having eaten my fill I returned to the hostel and relaxed in the ball room for a while before crawling into bed. As I was in the dorm at the front of the building I had a splendid view of Broadway out of the window. Fortunately the curtains were thick and blocked out all the light and one soon learns to ignore the sound of nightclubs, whose noise rises and falls like waves as the doors are opened and shut. I had no trouble getting to sleep and slept soundly until morning.

Las Vegas - Day 5

A slow and relaxing day today, most of which was spent organising my flight to & hostel in San Francisco – as that is my next stop. I decided to stay at The Green Tortoise in San Francisco as I enjoyed the one in Seattle so much. Based on price and time of departure I opted for Virgin America as my carrier to San Francisco.

Having got all my travel and accommodation plans for the next leg sorted out I then turned to packing. This is always much easier with lots of space to do it in, so it didn’t take me long.

After all this work, I decided it was play time so I opted for seeing one of the shows.
Having looked at what was on offer I decided on Zumanity at New York New York. This is one of Cirque Du Soleil’s creations, one of two in Vegas at the moment. I opted for the 19:30 show so I could get an early night and be all refreshed for San Francisco tomorrow. The tickets were an odd price $73.90 (about £38) but I thought it would be worth it.

I was not wrong; the show was amazing with some exceedingly athletic, acrobatic and physical displays – it made me feel quite wooden just sitting and watching it!

I was out on the Strip by 21:30 and ambled back to my hotel. I had to spare a thought for the poor bastards who were going through the show again – yes, they do it twice nightly folks – especially when I was standing there watching the Bellagio fountains dancing to “Lord of the Dance”!

Although it might not seem I had done much today, I was quite pleased with what I had achieved and thus slept the sleep of the righteous.

I would urge anyone to go to Vegas who hasn’t been there before as there is certainly nowhere else like it on Earth – certainly not that I have witnessed – and the whole place is an experience to visit and see.

If I had to come up with one word to sum up Las Vegas it would be: obscene.

Not in the “sleazy hooker” sense (one just ignores the guys flicking cards advertising “whores to your door” – unless one is interested of course) but in the total waste of energy and resources the place exhibits. [Prostitution is actually illegal in Nevada. Go next door to Arizona where it isn’t!] A classic example of this is The Luxor. This huge pyramid, looking like it is made from black marble, apparently has enough floor space to house 7 (seven) jumbo jets and every night the top of the pyramid radiates a beam of light into the sky which can be seen from space. I can believe this because when I arrived in Vegas it was raining and the column of light just cut through the cloud! (Our tour guide told us the electricity bill for the light alone was $250,000 a week! I could believe this too having seen the thing.) I suppose it acts as a very handy navigation aid for aircraft; just head for the light and turn right!
The whole place is an illusion geared to “entertain” money out of one. Everything is over the top, larger than life, opulent, decadent, wasteful in the extreme, 24 hours a day and 7 days a week!

Having said that I have to confess to a certain fascination with the place and the people who visit it, it did intrigue me, and if I ever do a degree in psychology or psychiatry I would certainly come back to Las Vegas.