Since getting to my hostel in Santa Monica turned out to be such a drama, I cancelled my reservation and booked another hostel in Hollywood.  I promptly got a taxi from Hollywood Boulevard after escaping Trek America and it was just a short ride to the hostel.  Once checked-in, I had the room to myself and wasted no time making use of the ensuite.  Since I had virtually no clean clothing, I spent the evening doing laundry and just fluffing about in the hostel room.  One girl in my room, TallPommieGirl, was particularly chatty with me and when I mentioned I would be going to Universal Studios the next day, asked if she could tag along.

I wanted to be at Universal Studios close to opening time to beat the crowds and also see as much as possible since the park was only open until 5pm.  TallPommieGirl and I purchased our 2 days for the price of 1 tickets at the hostel before making our way to the train station.  Since the weather wasn’t terribly nice – overcast and threatening rain – we were hoping it wouldn’t be terribly crowded.  We took the train to the Universal City station and then got the shuttle bus up the hill to Universal Studios.  There were a few people about but I’m sure it was a pretty quiet day compared to crowds in peak season.  The longest lines were to purchase tickets and since we already had ours, by-passed the long lines and were inside the park fairly promptly.

Maps in hand, our first stop was the famous studio tour.  This was quite enjoyable although not as exciting as it looks on TV – but I suppose that’s the name of the game in Hollywood.  There were some interesting stops along the way including Jaws terrorising the waters of Amity Island, psycho Norman at the Bates Motel, Wisteria Lane and the plane crash site from War of the Worlds.

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After the studio tour and a bite to eat, we headed down to the lower lot of the studio.  Two rides are located here – Jurassic Park and The Mummy.  We did both of these and they were good fun.  I wanted to see the Backdraft set so we did that and saw the Special Effects Stages.  With the back lot done and dusted, we headed back up to the upper lot to watch the stunts of Waterworld.  It was a good show although I think the pre-show entertainment was better than the actual show.  The seats in the stadium are labelled ’soak zone’, ‘wet zone’ and ‘dry zone’.  If you were unfortunate enough to sit in the soak zone, you did indeed get soaked – pre-show, a couple of the actors would grab buckets full of water and hurl it over unsuspecting audience members.  It was funny.  TallPommieGirl and I were smart enough to sit at the back of the wet zone so no water on us.  Last on our to-do list was The Simpsons ride and Shrek in 4D.  These were good although I was a little anxious about Shrek after my painful poke in the back at the Shedd Aquarium 4D show in Chicago.  I checked the seats before the show started and there were no holes so I was safe.  With everything on our to-do list completed, we headed back to the hostel to be home in time for the BBQ.  It wasn’t free but for $6 it was all-you-can-eat and that’s still pretty bloody good. 

Next day, TallPommieGirl abandoned me for a Dr Phil show taping, so I decided to do one of those tacky hop-on, hop-off tours to make the most of the little sightseeing time that I had.  I decided to go with one that was recommended by one of the girls in my room as being very good.  The tour was made up of three loops – Hollywood, Santa Monica and downtown Los Angeles.  The tour buses were the red double decker buses from London – right-hand drive, open top and all.  They also usually come with commentary, whether that be a real person speaking, headsets with pre-recorded commentary in selected languages or in the case of this particular tour, just English commentary over the bus speaker system.

I did the first part of the Hollywood loop which took me to Sunset Boulevard, Rodeo Drive and Beverly Hills.  Perhaps it was the weather, but the entire time I couldn’t help but think, THIS IS IT?  It doesn’t seem nearly as glitzy and glamorous as the media makes it out to be.  The bus commentary was a bit lousy too – there must have been a problem with the sound system, as the commentary kept breaking up - a bit like a CD skipping – so missed half of it or didn’t get any at all.  After Beverly Hills, I had to switch buses for the Santa Monica loop.  The commentary was working a bit better on this bus, however, the significant landmarks were few and far between so you didn’t learn much anyway.   

I hopped off the bus at the Santa Monica Pier for a look around.  It is a pity I didn’t get to stay in Santa Monica as I had originally planned as it was quite nice.  Since the sky threatened a serious downpour and I was starving, I made a stop at Big Dean’s Muscle Inn Cafe.  The area in front of the cafe is where the body building movement began and so-named Muscle Beach and was the setting for the film Pumping Iron starring the Governor of California himself, Arnold Schwarzeneggar.  Although the Muscle Beach at Santa Monica has since closed and relocated to Venice, you can still see a few posers, er I mean fitness fanatics, actually no, I do really mean posers, working out here.  Since I prefer a burger and fries washed down with a coke, I pulled up a chair at Big Dean’s.  It was gooooooood too. 

Although the downpour was done, it was still raining a bit so instead of sitting up top in the open air and get wet, I decided to sit downstairs.  If the commentary on the first bus was intermittent, then the commentary on this bus was non-existant as the speakers downstairs didn’t work at all.  Also, they had all their advertisements painted over the windows and although not completely opaque, the windows were far from clear.  I’m sure in fine weather the tour is quite enjoyable, but that day it was a complete waste of time and money.  I didn’t even bother with the downtown Los Angeles loop as that was in a totally open vehicle – no covered area at all – and I wasn’t interested in paying to get wet so I gave it a miss.

Back at the hostel, there was another all-you-can-eat for $6 but this time it was pasta.  TallPommieGirl and I, still impressed with the BBQ of the previous evening, decided to hook in again.  Bad idea.  The pasta was shocking – it was so salty that most people could not eat it.  TallPommieGirl gave up after a few mouthfuls but I wasn’t going to pay $6 and not eat dammit!  As we left, the girl who cooked asked if we liked it.  I told her it was terrible, far too salty.  She claimed that was a matter of opinion.  Obviously she hadn’t noticed that the majority opinion had dumped it in the bin and paid for the priveledge.  I think they should just stick with the BBQ.

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Since the weather was so shit and Los Angeles just generally overrated, TallPommieGirl and I decided to hit Universal Studios again and make full use of our tickets.  It was supposed to be raining all day so we figured that the park would be all but empty – turns out we figured right.  There was seriously fuck all people there.  The first day we went, we had to wait 20 minutes in line for The Simpsons ride.  Not this day – we went straight on and even got a full 8 seat car to ourselves.  Since there was still no line, we decided to have a go again.  Then we went down to the lower lot for The Mummy ride.  Again, there was no line so we got straight on.  We wanted to go again and thought since there was no line perhaps we could just stay on?  Nope, stupid Universal Studios wants you to line up again.  No matter, as a nice lady reminded us of the ‘child switch’. 

As the rides have height restrictions, some little people cannot ride and therefore need to be supervised while those that do meet the height requirments enjoy the ride.  So a clever person at Universal Studios created the ‘child switch’ – a little playroom near the lining up area where one parent supervises the short ones while the other parent rides with the not-so short ones.  After the ride, the riding parent goes to the ‘child switch’ room and swaps with the supervising parent and the supervising parent gets to ride but doesn’t have to line up with the common people.  Instead, they go through a little detour and basically go to the front of the line.  So, TallPommieGirl and I exploited the ‘child switch’ for all it was worth – the staff didn’t seem to mind – so we rode The Mummy 3 times in a row.

After that we hit Jurassic Park.  Again, no lines.  Although there is no child switch on this ride, it wasn’t needed.  So we did Jurassic Park a few times and one of the staff told us that the record for consecutive rides is 12 times.  We can beat that we said – and we did, we rode Jurassic Park 13 times.  We went back to The Mummy as well and rode it a few more times.  In total, we had 26 rides that day – 2 on The Simpsons, 11 on The Mummy and 13 on Jurassic Park.  So we certainly got our moneysworth at Universal Studios and were very pleased with ourselves.

Peace out.

Farewelling Las Vegas, it was back on the road again to the Grand Canyon.  TourLeader wanted to be there by 2pm-ish to ensure TrendyAussieBoy, the Norwegian ladies and I were at the airport on time for a helicopter ride over the Canyon.  TrendyAussieBoy and I weren’t sparing any expense and would enjoy a 50 minute flight, while the Norwegian ladies wanted to stick to their budget with just a 25 minute flight.  I think it may be the only way to see the Grand Canyon – check the happy snaps below and see for yourself.

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After the helicopter ride, TourLeader returned to collect us from the airport and then we drove to our camping ground for the evening.  Although it was flat, there were a shitload of rocks.  Oh what a joy to sleep on.  TourLeader was cooking again tonight but since I had already contributed my cleaning services the first evening, I was relieved from washing up duty.  Although it was a bit like pulling teeth trying to get anyone else to do it.  Funny that.  TourLeader’s camp fire skills improved slightly as well – there was a lot less smoke.  She also introduced the group to “s’mores”.  Not content with just marshmallows, Americans take toasting over a campfire to whole new level by adding chocolate and biscuit.  Once your marshmellow is satisfactorily toasted, you add a couple of squares of chocolate which melts from the heat of the toasted marshmallow, then squish the whole lot between two biscuits, called Graham crackers (kind of like a digestive biscuit that tastes a little like a gingernut) to make a sweet sandwich. 

That evening I went to bed with my thermal jocks underneath my flano jammies and trackie dacks on top.  I also had on woolen socks and gloves and tucked everything in so the only bare skin was my face.  Should stay nice and warm with all that on right?  Not fucking likely.  I have never been so cold in my life.  I thought I was going to die.  And because TourLeader said so we had to be up at sparrowfart to watch sunrise over the Canyon whether we wanted to or not, we didn’t even get to sleep during the warmest part of the night – the morning.  Was it worth it?  Check out the happy snaps and see for yourself. 

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Later that morning, we packed up and left the Grand Canyon for Betty and Rusty’s Cowboy Camp.  TourLeader informed us that Rusty was an old cowboy and was married to Betty – who used to be his daughter’s best friend (what the friendship is like now post-wedding, TourLeader didn’t elaborate).  TourLeader promised it would be a much warmer evening and since there would be no showers, she had better come good on her promise.  On the way, we had a brief drive on Historic Route 66 and a lunch stop in Seligman, which is the birthplace of the Historic route due to the efforts of resident barber Angel Delgadillo and the Historic Route 66 Association of Arizona.  When the interstate highway system replaced Route 66, many of the towns along ‘America’s Main Street’ became ghost towns.  Seligman seemed destined for a similar fate but through successful lobbying of the Arizona legislature, Angel Delgadillo and the Historic Route 66 Assocation of Arizona were able to preserve and designate Route 66 in Arizona as an historic highway.  Seven other states along Route 66 – California, New Mexico, Texas Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri and Illinois – have since established similar associations as well.  Angel Delgadillo still resides in Seligman and although retired from cutting hair, will indulge the occasional visitor.

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By mid-afternoon, we had arrived at Betty and Rusty’s property, located not far from Lake Pleasant in Arizona.  It was a funny place – I didn’t notice a house anywhere, just animal yards and various shacks, trailers, caravans, wagons and farming paraphernalia strewn about the place.  It was hot and dusty and lots of flies – if it weren’t for the cactus, I would have thought I was home again.  Betty greeted us on arrival and provided instructions on where we could set up tents, where the loo was etc as we had some time to kill before our sunset horseride with Rusty, who would join us after his nap.  We were also introduced to our wrangler, WranglerGirl, who would accompany us on our ride and keep Rusty in line.

When it was time, Betty asked those of us who were riding (everyone except KoreanGirl3 and the Norwegian ladies) to follow her to where the horses were saddled and waiting.  Betty inquired of everyone’s riding experience – it’s a bit of a worry when I turn out to be the most experienced – before giving us a crash course in horseriding.  Her brief lecture was momentarily interrupted by the arrival of Rusty.  Quite the character, Rusty looked like he had just stepped straight off the step of an old Western movie.  Rusty informed WranglerGirl that his whiskey was in her saddle bag and not to let him forget it.  Betty then finished up her lecture before delegating a horse to each of us.

With everyone in the saddle, WranglerGirl led us out the front gate.  Somehow I managed to get stuck behind KoreanGirl1, who clearly did not pay attention to Betty’s Riding for Beginners 101.  She spent half the ride with her feet not even in the stirrups and in order to get her animal to move, would throw her arms and legs out in a star-jump formation and yell Go!  Naturally, her little pony took full advantage of this by grazing the entire ride and generally got in everyone’s way.  We followed some old Indian trails around the property and enjoyed some lovely views of Lake Pleasant and the surrounding landscape.  We even saw a big, hairy pink-footed tarantula.  It was a very pleasant way to spend the afternoon.

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Back at the camping area, Betty was busy at the BBQ cooking our steak dinner and informed Rusty that Bandit, one of the dogs, got kicked by a horse (NB Rusty is deaf and although he has hearing aids, he doesn’t always have them turned on):

Betty: I thought he must have been bitten by a rattlesnake the noise he was making.  Howling!  It was that old Mary horse that did it.

Rusty: Yew say wha woman?

Betty: IT WAS THAT OLD MARY HORSE!

Rusty: Dat lil’ Jerry horse?

Betty: WE DON’T HAVE A LITTLE JERRY HORSE!

Rusty: Woman quit hollerin’ at me!  Dat’s why I got dem hearing aids cos yew hollerin’ at me all the time now I can’t hear nothin’!

Betty’s campfire skills were far superior to those of TourLeader and she had several camp ovens amongst the embers.  Dinner was ready shortly – you got your steak medium rare whether that’s how you had it or not – and Betty had us line up at the BBQ where she dished out the steak and then you helped yourself to salad, veggies and garlic bread.  After dinner, Betty and Rusty enlightened us with some stories: 

Rusty on being a lesbian:

I met dis gal from San Francisco and she asked me if I was a real cowboy. I said to dis gal well I ride ‘em (cows dat is), I round ‘em up and I castrate ‘em so I guess I am a cowboy.  Then she told me she was a lesbian.  Now I never heard of no goddamn lesbian before, I didn’t know what it was!  So I asked her.  She said to me well, at night when I go to sleep I think of gals and then when I wake up in the morning I think of gals.  I said, well shit!  I do dat tooooo!  So I must be a lesbian! 

Betty and Rusty on the time Rusty dislocated his shoulder:

Rusty to TourLeader: Yew friend ol’ Shaggy was here wit sum gal and we took her ridin’ up yonder.  Well Shaggy dared her to take her top off and ride back down and I’ma a dirty ol’ man you see, I wanted to see her boobs! 

Betty: Rusty! That’s not essential to the story!

Rusty: Well anyway, I was on this ol’ bronco and he bucked me right off!

Betty: It was a terrific fall! He came off and went head over heels down these rocks.  He should have been dead!  But he just laughs and keeps on riding!

Rusty, gesturing at Betty: I bought her dis king size bed and it still wasn’t big enough for her!  She kept pushin’ up against me and oh I knew what she wanted!  She wanted the whole damn bed!  Pushed me right outta it!

Betty: Oh how he hollered!  Cussing at me, I didn’t know what was going on.  He says I pushed him out of bed and he was in so much pain, he says he couldn’t move!  I said you only fell out of bed Rusty, stop your cussing.  But he wouldn’t quit complaining so we took him to the hospital the next day and the doctor said he had a dislocated shoulder!  He falls off a horse without a scratch but falls out of bed and dislocates his shoulder!

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Next morning, we were woken early by the roosters – Betty says that they keep the scorpions and tarantulas away but I’m sure chickens would do this just as well as roosters.  Betty was up early getting our breakfast ready – biscuits and gravy.  It didn’t sound terribly appetizing but TourLeader assured us the biscuit wasn’t really a biscuit and the gravy wasn’t really gravy and being a common Southern breakfast, we would find it very good.  TourLeader was almost right – it wasn’t really a biscuit, it was a bit like a savoury scone and was quite nice.  I thought the gravy was really gravy just lighter in colour and with mushrooms and I wasn’t terribly fond of it – it was one of those things that’s ok for the first few mouthfuls but then makes you feel sick if you kept eating it.

After breakfast, it was time for TourLeader to inspect our tents and instruct us on any cleaning that might be needed.  I thought cleaning would be interesting since we were at the dirtiest and dustiest stop of the week.  Basically, with the tent still up but tent pegs out, we were to shake the dust and dirt out by lifting the tent up from the back and kicking the floor of the tent so the dust and dirt would go out the door.  Any dusty footprints, bird shit and other gunk would have to wiped off with a damp sponge.  Since KoreanGirl3 had done a good job of putting dirty footprints everywhere, I got the sponges and some water.  KoreanGirl3 decided to take some initiative and wipe up the footprints – only she started at the tent door and worked her way back into the tent and then made muddy footprints by walking back out again.  So I went back over it and cleaned all the spots she missed the first time.  We then folded the tarp and tent and were ready to roll when I said we should wipe the tent as we rolled otherwise it would just go into the carry case covered in dust which I thought made the entire cleaning exercise pointless.  Since it was just dust on the outside and not wanting to put the tent in the carry case wet, I had a sponge that was barely damp.  So as KoreanGirl3 rolled, I wiped.  This worked well until we got to the end of the roll and KoreanGirl3 decided to help me wipe by getting her own sponge – which was sopping wet.  Of course she didn’t realize this was a bad idea until there was a great big puddle on the rolled up tent.  Before she soaked the entire thing, I told her to squeeze the water out of her sponge.  She did this – right next to the tent, so that as the water hit the dirt, mud was splashed all over the tent.  Fucking useless.

After some final housekeeping and good-byes to Betty and Rusty, it was back on the road again for the last time.  The drive to Los Angeles was pretty uneventful.  According to the tour itinerary on the Trek America web site, we were supposed to have an included tour of Hollywood.  This tour supposedly included all the sights of Hollywood Boulevard (walk of fame, Kodak Theatre etc), however, TourLeader informed us on the first night that no such tour would be happening and we would only be seeing the Hollywood sign – if we had time.  We arrived in Los Angeles a bit earlier than TourLeader anticipated so she drove us up Mullholland Drive to see the Hollywood sign.  Talk about nothing special.  Since we were so early, TourLeader said she would drive to Hollywood Boulevard and those of us who were continuing on to the hotel, or elsewhere in the direction of the hotel, could have a bit of free time to look around.  This didn’t include me or the Norwegian ladies as this was our stop to disembark.  Not that I was disappointed – I wanted to get away from the camping virgins and into a shower and clean clothes as soon as possible.  Since no one wanted to be my friend on the tour, TourLeader was the only one that said good bye to me so I thanked and tipped her before I was on my way, relieved to be the one in control of my destiny once again.

Peace out.

After a little drive across California, we crossed the border into Nevada (if you can’t wait until Vegas, there are casinos on the border where you can get your fix) and then into Las Vegas.  TourLeader gave us a quick tour of the Strip where all the punting action is at.  The Strip doesn’t look as cool as it does in the movies – everything is much more spread out – and the whole place seems to be in a perpetual state of construction.  I wasn’t too impressed when TourLeader informed us that our hotel was some distance from the Strip – not a convenient walking distance so we would have to take a cab, especially at night as it isn’t terribly safe.  Nice.  We would also have to find our own dinner that evening and then be back at TourLeader’s hotel room for drinkies at 8.30 before our included limo tour at 9.30.

Although the hotel was beginning to show its age, the room was clean and quite spacious.  I informed KoreanGirl3 that if she needed to use the bathroom desparately, she better do it quick because I was going to be in there a while.  TourLeader had suggested the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner as it was across the road so that’s where I headed after a lengthy shower.  When I arrived, I saw TrendyAussieBoy with PommieGirl, PommieBoy, DanishGirl and the Norwegian ladies.  Since they didn’t invite me to join them, I invited myself and went and sat at their table.  Good thing I did too, because when it came time to pay the bill none of them thought to include their share of the tax or gratuity to make up the total and couldn’t work out why they were short.  I mean, really?  How these people were able to leave their home and get on a plane when they can’t even read a receipt is beyond me.

Back at the hotel, I got my drinkies ready.  TourLeader told us you can drink on the street in Las Vegas so long as its in plastic and not glass.  She suggested getting a litre or so plastic water bottle and filling it up with your choice of drink.  So that’s what I did, and had a couple while I was doing it.  Arriving fashionably late (and last) at TourLeader’s hotel room, I met the rest of the group.  We were actually supposed to meet another Trek America group – the tour I went on was from San Francisco to Los Angeles but the same tour also runs from Los Angeles to San Francisco and so another Trek group was also in Las Vegas the same time as us.  TourLeader said when this happens, they usually get together and get a bigger limo for both groups as this makes it more fun.  However, the other group was running late and TourLeader said some shit about the limo already being there (it wasn’t even 9pm) so drinkies were had on the way out to the limo.

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After some happy snaps with the limo, we were joined by the other Trek group and their tour leader, TourLeaderLadiesMan.  TourLeaderLadiesMan, as his name suggests, was quite chummy with the ladies and since our group was lacking a bit in the stud department, the Norwegian ladies immediately went on heat.  NorwegianBlonde seemed particularly taken with TourLeaderLadiesMan, however, she was getting stuck into the alcohol/leg opener on the limo so may have just been feeling a little friendly in general.  

The limo ride was alright – a bit bumpy due to the road works, which made gulping, er I mean sipping, my bubbly a tad difficult.  The limo ride ended at the Bellagio Hotel where we were to watch the fountain show before being let loose on the Strip.  TourLeader and TourLeaderLadiesMan said they were going to hit Margaritaville and people were welcome to join them so that’s where we all went with our plastic flasks for more drinkies and some dancing.

By this stage, NorwegianBlonde is on the verge of complete and total inebriation and it is clear she is not feeling friendly in general but very much TourLeaderLadiesMan friendly-specific.  Meanwhile, her friend NorwegianBrunette appears not even the least bit loaded nor at all concerned with NorwegianBlonde’s sodden state.  TourLeader says that she refuses to pay $10 for a drink at Margaritaville when there is plenty of alcohol to be drunk in her hotel room and that she and TourLeaderLadiesMan will get a cab back to the hotel for fresh supplies – if anyone would like to share a cab, they are welcome to come along.  Since my plastic flask is spent and my feet are fucking killing me and I would much rather have drinkies in my jammies, I decide to go with them.  KoreanGirl3 and the Norwegian ladies also come along. 

TourLeader tries to find a cab that will accommodate all six of us as obviously this will make the journey much cheaper.  Unfortunately, no taxi is willing or able to do this so we end up taking 2 cabs – TourLeader, KoreanGirl3 and me in one cab while TourLeaderLadiesMan and the Norwegian ladies in another.  Our cab driver is a complete tosser – he even has the nerve to call me ‘blondie’.  He promptly refrains from this when I beg his fucking pardon and inform him that I’m sober so don’t even think about taking the scenic route.  The cab with the other three is in front of ours and at one red light, the back door on the passenger side suddenly flys open for someone to have a good vomit.  The light turns green and the door closes but the window goes down just in case.  It appears that NorwegianBlonde is not feeling too well.

At the hotel, I get changed into my jammies and meet the others at TourLeader’s hotel room.  NorwegianBlonde is now seriously fucked.  She can’t talk and walks like she is on a boat in extremely high seas.  She goes in and out of the bathroom several times, comes out with half her dress in her knickers and then goes and lies down on the floor in TourLeader’s bedroom.  Still not the least bit concerned about her friend, NorwegianBrunette takes the opportunity to hook into TourLeaderLadiesMan.  After some friendly chit chat, she gives him a good snogging and then orders him back to her room leaving NorwegianBlonde staggering from the bedroom floor to the bathroom.  I’m starting to think that perhaps it is time for NorwegianBlonde to go to bed and TourLeader asks NorwegianBlonde if she would like some help back to her room.  NorwegianBlonde says she will be fine (or something to that effect since she talks like she’s had stroke) and staggers off.  I follow her as I’m a bit worried she won’t be able to negotiate the stairs up to the next floor on her own but she manages and makes it to her room in one piece. 

Next day, I enjoy a good sleep in and some room service before venturing out.  Once at the Strip I decide to check out some of the fine establishments.  First up, and since it was the first one I came to, was Planet Hollywood.  I perused the overpriced shops and then ventured into the casino.  It wasn’t terribly exciting and I could only bare to part with $5 which I put in the pokies and got shafted.  Not impressed.  So then I decided to go to Paris – the casino that is.  Paris wasn’t much more exciting than Planet Hollywood, although the shops and restaurant area did have a funky blue sky and clouds painted ceiling that made you feel like you were walking outside.  I think it might be for the gambling addicts so that they don’t realise how long they’ve been in the casino and stick around even longer.  I decided to have another go at punting to see if I could be a winner instead of a loser.  Nope.  Shafted again.  I then decide to invest my money a little more wisely and take a ride to the top of the Eiffel Tower for some views of the Strip.  Pictures included for your viewing pleasure.

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TourLeader also told us that aside from punting, the casinos also have great all-you-can-eat buffets.  Since I’m a big fan of all-you-can-eat, I decide to hit the Paris buffet.  It was ok – there was a variety of things including seafood (the prawns were foul sadly), roast meats and vegies, sushi, antipasto, salads and other ’European’ type stuff.  The best thing was the roast chicken and mashed potato, I went back a few times for that.  The dessert was also really good and the waitress will even top up your drink for you although my waitress was a little slow, which didn’t impress me as I was thirsty.

After Paris, I cruised the Strip for a bit and then had a look, and got very lost in, Excalubir.  It had a completely different vibe to Planet Hollywood and Paris - a much younger crowd for the most part and a lot more bars.  I was all punted out and since I was feeling a little full from the Paris buffet, I just had a little wander around.  I think this may be how I got lost as it took me FOREVER to get back outside.  Once I did find my way out, I was a million miles away from where I came in.  TourLeader did warn that the casinos were designed to confuse you if you try to escape and now I believe her.

Peace out.

After a night of luxury  in a hotel (TV!  Room service!  Fresh towels and sheets!), I was supposed to meet the tour leader at 7.30am in the hotel lobby so I had to stuff my pancakes (that’s the only thing that doesn’t come with eggs) down my throat at 7.20 because I was running a little bit late.  I then found the tour leader with a few others obviously going on the trip as well in the lobby.  Tour leader was really nice if not a little quirky and certainly had the look and air of a seasoned traveller.  The members of the tour group were a different story.

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The tour group consisted of 2 Norwegian girls travelling together, 3 Korean girls – 2 of which were travelling together, 1 girl from Denmark, 1 girl from Wales, 1 guy from England and 1 guy from Australia.  Including me, that was a group of 10 people.  After a bit of paperwork, we had to do the whole what’s your name, where you’re from blah blah bonding thing.  Talk about wet behind the ears.  I was the only who had been camping before.  Some people didn’t realise we would be camping, even though when booking it clearly says ACCOMMODATION WILL BE TENTS.  Some people didn’t bring a sleeping bag even though when booking it clearly says YOU WILL NEED A SLEEPING BAG.  One of the Korean girls didn’t have any travel insurance, even though when booking it clearly says YOU WILL NEED TRAVEL INSURANCE – PURCHASE FROM US OR SHOW PROOF OF OTHER.  The guy from Australia looked very trendy in his DKNY jeans, Lacoste polo, Tommy Hilfiger knit and very white Lacoste hat – pity such nice clothes are going to get FUCKING TRASHED.

Anyway, we eventually hit the road in the Trek mini van (a little trailer that looked like a small horse float carries all the gear and luggage).  I was first in line to get into the van and to make it easier for those at the end of the line and since I’m such a polite young lady, I went to the back seat – and even though TourLeader said we were supposed to rotate seats, that’s where I stayed the entire week.  This turned out to be yet another stroke of genius on my part as no one wanted to sit next to me (except for TrendyAussieBoy a couple of hours one day) and the seat went the width of the van (big enough to fit 3 people) so I was able to lie down and sleep while everyone else had to sit up to sleep.  Plus I could drap my towel across the back of the seat in the sun so it would dry and not go smelly unlike everyone else who ended up with super smelly towels.  There were 3 rows of seats in front of the back seat – on one side were double seats for 2 people and the other side single seats.  One of the single seats was just an extra emergency seat so someone could sit in the front passenger seat instead. 

First stop on the tour was Yosemite National Park.  We arrived there around lunch so before entering the Park, we stopped to eat at a rest stop picnic table.  TourLeader explained the procedure for lunch and unpacking the trailer in general: everyone is to help unload the trailer and for lunch this included 2 eskys – one with the drinks, one with the cold meats, cheese, lettuce, tommies etc – 2 storage containers with the bread and other snacks, a storage box with paper towel, plates etc and the small storage box with the cutlery.  That was pretty straightforward even for camping virgins.  The food from the eskys and containers is then taken out and this is where things started to get tricky.  People were only interested in feeding themselves not making a group contribution so that everyone is fed in a timely and orderly fashion.   This meant that people just plonked down at the table, grabbed what they wanted and then stuffed their face without any regard to others who perhaps hadn’t even got within an inch of the table.  Not impressed.  I tried to set an example by cutting up a couple of tomatoes for communal use, only to find when I was ready for some tommie, no one thought to leave me some even though I cut the bastard.          

After lunch, the trailer was packed up and we hit the road again.  Before descending into the Yosemite Valley, we made a stop at the Tuolumne Grove of Giant Sequoias.  The Sequoias are quite impressive specimens and rightly touted as the largest organisms on Earth.  Sequoias are similar to the Redwoods just more substantial in girth but less so in height.  The air was quite chilly so to stay warm, enjoy the quiet of the woods and actually see things rather than engage in brainless chit chat, I walked a little bit faster and was about 10 metres or so in front of the rest of the group.  This meant I saw the deer amongst the trees before everyone else and the first majestic Sequoia of the Grove when everyone else walked straight past it.  Eventually, I got in trouble for ‘not walking with the group’  by TourLeader as God forbid I take some initiative.

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Later we arrived in Yosemite Valley.  We were allowed about an hour or so of free time to have a look in the shops and buy anything we might need.  We then left for the camping ground we would be staying at for the next two nights.  I wasn’t impressed to hear that the camping ground would be a 45 minute drive away from the action – I assumed we would be camping close to, if not in, the Valley.  Apparently, the closer camp grounds are very popular and must be booked months in advance to secure a site.  While this is understandable for such a popular destination, I found it a little hard to believe that a company like Trek America couldn’t be organised enough to secure a site well in advance, perhaps even have an arrangement with National Parks or whoever is responsible for the camp ground - surely if a particular tour did not go ahead for whatever reason and a particular booking no longer needed, such bookings could be cancelled at little or no cost?  Perhaps I just expect too much but then it was a little convenient that a male friend of TourLeader, who was currently leading a tour for another company, happened to be camped at the same camp ground we were.

At the campground, we received another lesson from TourLeader in how to unpack the trailer for setting up camp.  After everything needed was out and set where it needed to be, we then had a lesson in putting up the tents.  The tents were 4 person tents but only 2 people would be sharing a tent so there would be plenty of room for people and their stuff.  This meant we had to pair off and I got stuck with the odd-one-out KoreanGirl3.  I would like to think that I am relatively tolerant of other people and their faults (I’ve been working in customer service for the last 10 years for fucks sake) but I do not tolerate uselessness well at all.  And this is exactly what KoreanGirl3 was – completely and utterly useless.  She could be forgiven since she had never been camping before but seriously, it’s a tent not fucking rocket science.  As a result of her uselessness, I basically put the tent up myself and so it was the last tent up.  I also wanted to keep the tent as clean as possible since we had to clean them at the end of the week and the camp ground was pretty dusty, so I would take off my shoes before getting in the tent.  I needn’t have bothered as KoreanGirl3 had already stomped all through the tent putting dust and dirt everywhere. 

Although you had to bring your own sleeping bag, Trek provided a ‘thermal sleeping pad’ for you to sleep on.  This information was relayed on the website and I thought that ‘thermal sleeping pad’ sounded quite conducive to a good, comfortable sleep.  But yet again, I was expecting too much.  The ‘thermal sleeping pad’ turned out to be nothing more than a piece of foam barely a centimetre thick and although quite long in length, it was very narrow – barely a bodywidth.  The ‘thermal’ aspect came from a series of v-shaped groves in the foam that supposedly ‘caught your body heat and bounced it back to you’.  Yeah right.

TourLeader explained that as with lunch, you were expected to help prepare dinner and then also clean up afterwards.  Since the tour was just a short one and she enjoyed cooking, TourLeader said she would cook dinner and then the rest of us can clean up.  After I had a shower, I ventured over to where she was preparing dinner to see what I was going to be fed.  I soon saw why she was happy to cook – every bit of kitchen paraphenalia had been used.  Who cares when you’re not washing up right?

After dinner, TrendyAussieBoy and I volunteered to do dishes.  KoreanGirl1 also volunteered but she was pretty hopeless and not really needed as TrendyAussieBoy and I had everything under control.  While we were washing up, TourLeader decided to light a camp fire but it was more of a camp smoke.  Seriously it was terrible.  I refused to go near it because I did not want to go to bed smelling like smoke and of course, TourLeader didn’t approve of my non-participation. 

The purpose of the camp smoke gathering was to discuss the tour happenings.  TourLeader informed us that sometimes we would be camping in places where it is cold and without electricity or showers and limited toilet facilites.  She didn’t want to hear any complaints about this – afterall it is all part of the experience.  What the fuck?  I can live without electricity no problem but being cold, uncomfortable and dirty?  I can take a dump into a dug-out pit with the wind whistling up my arsehole and creepy crawlies lurking in the bushes as I did on many camping trips during my youth but I don’t ever recall sleeping cold and uncomfortable or not being able to wash?  What the fuck kind of EXPERIENCE is this??     

TourLeader also wanted to know where everyone had to be once the tour was over – just like it started, the tour ended at a selected hotel but not everyone was ending their individual travel plans at this particular hotel.  Only 2 people were staying at the hotel, someone else had a flight later in the evening and the rest of us were going to other accommodations.  At that point, I had a hostel in Santa Monica booked and because I’m awesome, I had already checked the best way to get there which was on a bus.  I had a copy of the bus route map and so when TourLeader asked me where I had to be, I told her and suggested I show her the route map and perhaps if there were a  mutually convenient location on the route, that would be fine otherwise she could let me off with the Norwegian ladies, who were going to a hostel in Hollywood and TourLeader had just told the Norwegians she could get them close to that.  I thought my suggestion was reasonable but clearly TourLeader didn’t because she practically bit my head off, screeching that she couldn’t drive around looking for a bus stop to drop me off at.  Did I fucking say drive around and find me a bus stop bitch?  No I didn’t! 

After that little discussion, I wasn’t the least bit interested in bonding at the camp smoke so I went to bed.  KoreanGirl3 was not far behind me and informed me that she had ‘forgotten’ her sleeping bag.  More like you don’t own one fool.  She then proceeded to put on every item of clothing she had packed as it was a bit chilly due to the snow that had fallen the previous evening.  YES IT HAD SNOWED.  Our tent was also on a slight slope and although hardly noticeable when standing/sitting, the blood would still flood your brain when lying down.  So I slept uphill with my head at the top of the slope – KoreanGirl3 slept downhill.  How she slept, I have no idea, but she did because her snoring woke me up several times. 

Next morning, we had to leave camp at 5.30am.  LEAVE CAMP AT 5.30AM.  Not get up at 5.30, LEAVE AT 5.30AM.  Because everyone except me and the Koreans wanted to go on some stupid 25km hike to one of the famous Yosemite cliff faces known as Half Dome and to be able to make it back before dark, they had to start the hike at 7am and because we were camped in Bumfuckville instead Yosemite Valley, it was an hour and a half drive to the start of the trail.  I had decided to go horseriding instead of hiking – why hike when you can ride an animal that will do the hiking for you?

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TourLeader had also informed us at the start of the tour that there would be little or no electricity available over the coming week to charge items such as cameras, phones etc.  I had expected this but the virgin campers had not.  Our camp site was not a powered site and I figured this was because there were no powered sites at the campground.  But alas, on my way to the shower at 4.35am (!!!!!!!!!!) I noticed that there were indeed powered sites.  Why would you not make use of a powered site if one were available?  Surely, Trek America would recognise the needs of the modern traveller include the ability to charge electrical devices?  I can’t imagine that a powered site would be so outrageously priced that it couldn’t be incorporated into the tour budget and it would have certainly saved the virgin campers jamming all their cameras and phones into the one solitary power outlet in the toilets. 

After farewelling the hikers and then watching the sunrise over Yosemite, TourLeader drove me and the Koreans to Curry Village, where the tourist action is at and where we would all meet at the end of the day.  I didn’t have to be at the stables until midday and it was about 9am so I had a few hours to kill.  TourLeader said that if you were cold last night then you had better get some warm clothes because it will be even colder in the Grand Canyon.  Although I had stayed reasonably warm most of the night, I didn’t want to risk being cold so I went and did a little thermal underwear shopping.  The thermal underwear came in 3 temperature ranges – warm, cool and cold.  I wanted the cold range but the store only had it in men’s – so I had to get the y-fronts with the doodle hole.  Nevermind.

The horseride was pretty good, even though it was on a mule rather than a horse.  The ride followed a path to an area called Clarke’s Point which had great views of the Yosemite Valley.  Going up was pretty easy but going down was a little scary – the trail was quite steep with constant switchbacks and not very wide, plus it was often shared with hikers.  Still, I survived and it sure beats walking.  Afterwards, I had to meet up with the rest of the group back at Curry Village for pizza.  The hikers had also survived and although none had made it all the way to Half Dome, all seemed pleased with their day albeit a little weary.

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After a toasty sleep in my thermal jocks, I had to be up at sparrowfart again to leave Yosemite for Las Vegas.  Following breakfast, TourLeader was to give a demonstration on how to pack up the tent.  I ended up missing most of this thrilling lecture as I really needed a whizz but I did see how we were supposed to fold and roll the tent before putting it back in its carry case.  Good thing too as KoreanGirl3 – who had seen the full demonstration – didn’t have a bloody clue.  When I told her to get a hammer to pull the tent pegs out after she tried unsuccessfully to pull them out with her hands, she looked at me like I was from another planet.  Then she almost left behind half the tent poles because she had carelessly tossed them to the shithouse.  The tent had 2 parts to it – the tent itself and a waterproof tarp that went over the top.  The waterproof tarp was to be folded in thirds, while the tent folded into quarters and then placed on top of the waterproof tarp.  The tent poles – which had their own case – were then placed on top of the tents at the end opposite the tent door and then rolled.  This would push any air out of the tent before the whole lot is put in the carry case.  Well KoreanGirl3 was just going to fold the tents any way she saw fit and then just shove everything in the case.  Good thing one of us paid attention to that part of the demonstration.

Peace out.

It wasn’t really that bad – yes there were a few strip clubs but I’m sure they were very respectable establishments and I could have got 7 pornos (minimum 4 hours duration each) for just $30!  Bargain.  What I wasn’t impressed about was the fact the hostel did not have an elevator but plenty of stairs, just what I wanted to see after lugging an extra 20kg up a hill.

My first day of sightseeing I decided to visit tourist mecca Fisherman’s Wharf.  Fisherman’s Wharf is so-named because it is the wharf where the first fishermen of San Francisco would dock their boats and sell their catch (descendants of these fishermen still do) - Americans are relatively simple folk, they don’t like to get too fancy with names.  Fisherman’s Wharf is also home to Pier 39 which is famous for the sea lions that camp out on the docks.  Many boat tours of the bay depart from Fisherman’s Wharf, including the National Parks Service to Alcatraz.  The Aquarium of the Bay is also located at Fisherman’s Wharf. 

After a pleasant visit to the Aquarium, it was down to Pier 39 to see the sea lions.  Perhaps the only free thing to do other than breathe and use the loo at Fisherman’s Wharf, the sea lions make a visit to Fisherman’s a must-do.  They are very noisy and a bit smelly and also keep Pier 39 staff busy by resting on docks they are not supposed to which earns them a squirt with the hose.  Of course, the sea lions just wait in the water until the staff person is gone and either hop back on the dock or just find another one.  Quite entertaining to watch.  While at the Wharf, I also had a bay cruise which took me under the Golden Gate Bridge and around Alcatraz.  It was a little windy and the recorded commentary was a little corny but good fun nonetheless.

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On Sunday, I had a Wok Wiz tour which is a walking tour of Chinatown followed by a dim sum lunch.  The tour began at the Hilton and since it was quite a large group, there were two tour leaders who would take half the group each.  One tour leader was Herman (not his Chinese name) and the other leader was Dorothy (not her Chinese name).  Secretly I was hoping for Dorothy - she seemed like a nice old duck.  Unfortunately, I scored Herman and just as he was telling the group what a strenuous hike we were in for, Dorothy came over and dragged me to her group saying she was one short.  Yay!

The Chinatown of San Francisco is the largest in the US and perhaps the largest population of Chinese in one area outside China.  Dorothy turned out to be quite the tour guide.  She provided a very insightful view of Chinatown and tour itself included many stops which I would have walked straight past without knowing the significance.  She also made sure that when we stopped, short people (me) were at the front.  The dim sum lunch was very good and very filling – and Dorothy remained as our lunch host and made sure we ate everything.  Since she was so awesome I tipped her $20 and made her stand next to a Buddha so I could take her photo.

Next up was a visit to the Exploratorium/Palace of Fine Arts.  The Palace of Fine Arts is all that is left over from the San Francisco World Fair held in 1915.  The purpose of the Fair was to attract people back to San Francisco following the 1906 earthquake.  The Exploratorium is a science museum – lots of interactive exhibits which are good fun but mostly aimed at families.  After some fun and games in the Exploratorium, I sat in the park and started to eat my lunch (which took me a 5km round trip to get) when I was rudely interrupted by a creepy old man.  He was sitting on the bench next to me and muttered something to me and gestured to the sky.  Apparently, the 2pm Luftansa flight was late today.  Do I look like I care?  I must have, because he then decided to sit down next to me and dribbled on like a fool for the next 45 minutes.  At least three times he said ‘well, I better be off then’ before going off another dribble tangent.  When his comments started to get somewhat suggestive, I promptly told him I was a married woman and he left me to go harass some woman with a poodle.

Next day, I decided to hit the California Academy of Sciences located in Golden Gate Park.  What a fucking mission.  I had to change buses which doesn’t normally bother me because buses in every other city I had been to has an automated lady that kindly tells you where you are and the significance, if any, of a bus stop.  But not in San Francisco.  The automated lady is a bit slack and sometimes non-existent so you have to be paying attention and make sure you yank the cord well in advance to tell the bus driver to stop otherwise they keep driving.  How rude.   The bus stop I had to change at was also in some obscure location so I ended up going back and forth on the same bus route for like an hour trying to find the fucker.  Eventually I found another bus stop on the route I needed and 2 and a half hours later arrived at the Academy of Sciences.  Good thing it was a nice place otherwise I would have been really pissed off.

The Academy itself is quite modern due to a recent refurbishment and is touted as the only place on the planet that has a planetarium, an aquarium, natural history museum and 4-storey rainforest all under one roof.  It was a pity that it took me so long to get there as it was quite an enjoyable visit.  The exhibits were comprehensive but not overwhelming and there was a heavy focus on conservation.  The planetarium was a little disappointing – the line to get in went forever even though you had to get a ticket prior to lining up and when I asked what was screening, the droop with the tickets didn’t actually answer my question and just gave me a ticket.  The show turned out to be the ‘premier’ of Journey to the Stars which I had already seen six weeks ago at the American Museum of Natural History in New York!  However, walking through the indoor yet authentic rainforest was good fun and there was also an albino alligator, which was a little freaky.  Overall, well-worth a visit.

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Next was a visit to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art or SFMoMA.  This was a little ho-hum and had the most expensive gift shop ever.  There were a couple of interesting exhibits but it’s a bit hard to top MoMA in New York.  I also braved the hundreds of thousands of Chinatown and the perpendicular hill on the bus to read Pride and Prejudice (it was free to download on my iPhone!) in Huntington Park opposite Grace Cathedral. 

On Friday I decided to take a tour which was advertised at the hostel – Elie’s Green Dream Tour of San Francisco.  The tour was a pretty good price and included a number of good stops that I wanted to see but didn’t want to have to fight the ruthless little old Chinese ladies just to get on a bus to go see.  Noteable photo stops included Lombard Street (the crookedest street in the world), the painted ladies and Vista Point for top views of the Golden Gate Bridge.  The tour also made a stop at Muir Wood – home to a Redwood forest that had been recommended as a must-see.  Plus Elie picks you up from your accommodation and drops you back (or somewhere else if you please) at the end of the day which is pretty convenient.  Elie’s tour is a green one as the bus runs on bio-diesal, which is kind of cool and fits San Francisco’s image as the most environmentally-friendly city in America.  Elie was a very pleasant and knowledgeable tour guide and some nice people were in the group so the day was quite enjoyable.

Saturday was my last day at the hostel as I was checking out on Sunday to move to the hotel where the Trek America tour departed.  I decided to do a few errands like go to the post office and ATM etc plus I needed to get some more of my favourite cleanser of which I had underestimasted my use of and was fast running out.  Since there was a salon in San Francisco that apparently stocked it and was apparently open on Saturdays, I went for a little ride on the bus.  Upon arriving at the salon however, it appeared that they were not open on Saturdays so I was a bit pissed.  So that my bus trip wasn’t completely wasted, I decided to go to the nearby library and use their free wifi and read some trashy US magazines.  At the library, I sat in one of the comfy chairs opposite a little old Chinese lady who let off a RIPPER fart when she got up from her chair.  Then as she toddled back to return her reading materials, she farted each step of the way.  And did it SMELL.  This must be normal behaviour of little old Chinese ladies as no one seemed to notice except me.  

Saturday night I visited The Rock – Alcatraz.  The night tour is supposedly the most comprehensive tour and includes a guided tour which isn’t available on any of the other day tours.  However, I must not have been paying attention as I don’t recall being guided anywhere except for the Ranger-led 15 minutes or so up the hill to the actual prison with an occasional info stop.  All visits to Alcatraz include a cellhouse audio tour – everyone is given a little audio gizmo with earphones and you follow the directions around the prison.  This was quite good, I particularly enjoyed the commentary from actual inmates and guards.  There were a couple of informative talks by Park Rangers with a focus on escape attempts which were interesting. 

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 Following day, I had to check-out of the hostel by 11am but couldn’t check-in to the hotel until 3pm.  So I decided to just read in the communal area and then get a taxi at 3.  Good idea in theory but not so good in practice as I couldn’t get a taxi if my life depended on it.  Normally, when I don’t need one, I have to beat them off with a stick but of course when I do need one, there isn’t one in sight.  So I lug my turtle to the tourist hot spots in a bid to score a taxi all the while getting further and further away from where I need to go which will naturally add to my fare.  I keep walking and a few cabs go by but I still can’t pull a ride.  Then, just as I’m thinking I may have to brave the bus, a car pulls up and the driver asks do you need a ride?  Yes!  Yes I do!  Now in San Francisco there is a variety of cabs – there are some that are the standard yellow/orange, then there are some red cabs, some blue ones, some sedans, some small 4WD and there are also some ‘executive’ cabs that are dark blue with tinted windows and look like normal cars but for a cab ID number printed on the front bumper bar.  Thinking that this car that pulled up is one of the ‘executive’ cabs, I eagerly throw my turtle in the back seat (you don’t have to tip so much if you do it yourself) and bark at the driver to take me to 121 7th avenue.  He smiles and says he has no idea where that is but is sure he’ll find it.  That’s when I notice the GPS instead of the cab meter.  I realise it’s not a taxi at all and I just got into a car with a strange man!

Immediately, I’m planning my escape but I’m not sure how I’ll go leaping out of a moving vehicle with turtle in tow.  Driver introduces himself and tells me he loves my accent (he’s American) and says I talk just like the GPS lady (she’s Australian).  I ask him if he makes a habit of picking up wayward travellers and he says, smooth as a six inch shit, ‘only the gorgeous ones’.  This flirtation would have been flattering but for the fact our age difference is clearly generation x.  He asks me lots of questions about myself and my travels and I’m sure to remain vague with my answers.  He tells me he is from Los Angeles working as a cameraman and is in San Francisco (all at company expense including hire car) to film a college football game and is just killing time before flying out later that afternoon.  I proceed to tell him how dull American football is and that they play real football where I come from.  He says soccer is not real football.  I say of course it is not and that he is a fool to think I was refering to soccer.  When I say I will be in Los Angeles the week after next, he suggests I give him a call and he will ’show me the sights’ - dream fucking on.  Of course, I play the part and pretend I’m delighted at the suggestion since I notice that we are only a couple of streets away from my hotel.  He gives me his business card and kisses my hand (ick!) as he drops me at the hotel and I get the fuck out of the car as quickly as my turtle will allow me but happy that I just saved myself a cab fare.

Peace out.

I’m not sure exactly where I picked up the little fuckers but I suspect the Amtrak since the bites first appeared while still on the train the morning I arrived in San Francisco.  I couldn’t sleep in my seat mainly because there was a rather round lady sitting next to me and partly on me so I got the shits and went downstairs to the games arcade room and went to sleep on the floor.  I’m guessing they were hiding in the carpet waiting to suck the blood of an unsuspecting traveller like me.

I first noticed  3 little bites in a row on the outside of my right wrist – initially I was horrified that they might be warts since they were small, hard and just warty-looking.  But they were as itchy as all fuck and since I tend to avoid people in general, I couldn’t imagine I’d rubbed up against someones’ herpes.  Then over the next 24 hours more and more bites appeared – mostly on my hands and forearms but also on my lower back and legs.  There was also more than one bite in a single area – a lot were in a row, like on my wrist, and this is apparently characteristic of bed bug bites.  All the bites were different looking as well – some were like the warty things on my wrist, some were like mosquito bites and some were these massive welts.  The bites may have looked different but they all itched like motherfuckers.  It was like chicken pox itchy.  It was terrible.

For like four nights I was paranoid I had brought them with me and I would wake up at some ungodly hour and whip out my torch because I was certain I could feel them crawling on me.  Eventually I realised I hadn’t had any new bites since the first ones appeared so I figured I was safe.  Check out the damage below:

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Pretty impressive – that is my photo taking ability not the bites.  Have you ever tried taking a photo with your left hand and you’re right handed of your own arm with an SLR?  Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Peace out.

I arrived at the hostel about 10.30am-ish and check-in is at 11am but it is possible that a bed would be ready prior to 11 so I went to  reception anyhow.  The droop behind the counter said bed not ready yet – no problem, I’ll wait and check my email with your free wifi.  Yeah, about that – our internet connection has been cancelled by our provider due to a guest downloading music illegally and it won’t be reconnected for another 2 or 3 days (it still wasn’t reconnected by the time I left a week later).  Oh joy.  So instead I vegetate in one of the comfy chairs in the communal area.  I also eavesdrop on the conversation of a group of hostellers – although I wasn’t really eavesdropping as they were talking so loud their conversation was impossible to ignore.  The focus of the conversation was the excellent sexual prowess of one particular guy who clearly thought he was God’s gift to women, which I found a little hard to believe since the guy had a face that made me want to bathe in a tub of dettol for a week.    

Finally, I can check-in.  This time I get helped by Macaulay Culkin’s brother who has the personality of a wet paper bag.  He shows me which room I’m in, where the bathrooms are, what time the front doors are locked blah blah.  The room is ok – it’s an 8 bed dorm and the bunks look rather sturdy, which makes the narrow room a lot narrower.  There are also underbed lockers, which is good in theory but not so good in practice when there is limited floor space.  Some good things though were each bed had 4 powerpoints, a light and ‘modesty’ curtains.  Macaulay Culkin’s brother then left me to my own devices and I headed straight for the shower.  Since I hadn’t had a shower for 2 days, I decided to make up for this by spending 3 hours in the bathroom (and no, I didn’t have the water on the WHOLE time). 

Once I was squeaky clean, I decided to venture out to get something to eat and find some wifi.  Since Starbucks was across the road and everyone raves about a little free wifi with your coffee, I figured it would be a good place to start.  I got a sandwich and a beverage that wasn’t coffee (I don’t drink coffee because it tastes like shit, unless it is iced coffee with a good dumping of whipped cream) but I couldn’t see anything about free wifi while I waited in line.  So once at the counter, I asked the girl at the register what’s the go.  Apparently, to use the free wifi you must be some Starbucks coffee member of which you have to buy coffee on a regular basis to join and stay a member.  The wifi is then free for the first 2 hours then you must pay for it after that.  If you are not a stupid Starbucks member then you pay for wifi from the word go.  Free wifi my arsehole. 

After scabby Starbucks, I perused the area, including the Pike Place Market which is just over the road from the hostel.  In case you don’t know – and you probably don’t – the Pike Place Markets were established in the early 1900s in order to ‘cut out the middleman’ after the price of onions went up to some astronomical level.  The idea was a public street market where consumers could meet the producers and on opening day, 8 farmers were a little overwhelmed by 10,000 eager shoppers.  Since then, the Pike Place Market has grown to house over 200 year-round commercial businesses, 190 craftspeople and 120 farmers who rent table space on a daily basis.  The Markets are internationally recognised as America’s premier farmers’ market and over 10 million people visit every year.  Pretty impressive for something that originated from overpriced onions.  I didn’t really care for the craftspeople all that much, but the quality of the fresh produce, including seafood and flowers, was incredible.

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During my ventures, I happened to stumble upon a tourist-friendly sign indicating the public library was just a couple of blocks away.  Since public libraries almost always have free wifi, I decided to check it out.  However, I nearly abandoned my wifi quest when I saw the perpendicular hill I would have to climb to get to the library.  A heart attack and 3 streets later, I made it to the library.  It was a pretty funky library too.  It was all steel and fluro yellow and fire engine red.  Not the kind of decor you’d associate with a library.  The wifi was indeed free just make sure you keep your shoes on and eyes open – no shoeless, sleeping allowed in the library.  I also ran into a little Hispanic man while on the way back from the loo:

LittleHispanicMan: Hello

Me: Hi

LittleHispanicMan: You’re soooo pretty.

Me: Yeah

LittleHispanicMan: I love you.

Me: Walking very quickly fast to get the fuck away.

Later that evening back at the hostel, I was sitting on my bed waiting for free, all-you-can-eat dinner at 7pm – is there anything sweeter than free, all-you-can-eat? – when I heard the key in the dorm room door.  Now I had reserved a female dorm and since Macaulay Culkin’s brother hadn’t indicated otherwise, I just assummed I was in a female dorm.  So imagine my surprise when God’s gift from that morning in the communal area walks in the room.  Before I could say excuse me you rude individual, he proceeded up to the top bunk across from me and then snored like a chainsaw.  A girl then entered the room and wasn’t at all bothered by the presence of a penis so it dawned on me that I was actually in a co-ed room, not a female one.  Being co-ed doesn’t bother me all that much – boys are much quieter than girls because they don’t talk and much tidier than girls because the don’t usually take copious amounts of useless crap travelling or go shopping.  However, co-ed does increase the chances of dorm room bonking since although ‘visitors’ are rarely allowed in hostels, there’s no rule that says you can’t get a leg over a bunk buddy if you’re so inclined.  Of course, this is exactly what happened. 

I was rudely awoken at some ungodly hour by the loud and rather drunk coversation between God’s gift and two other girls – one was the girl who had come in the room earlier, the other girl was in the bunk above me.  God’s gift, sounding as if he were the least drunk, said it was time to go to ’sleep’ and with my modesty curtains drawn, heard the sounds of people getting ready for bed.  I went back to sleep but then woke again a few minutes later to the sound of someone rolling into the wall above me.  I didn’t think this was strange at first as the beds were quite narrow and a restless sleeper could easily roll into the wall – just not several times in quick succession.  I then heard a male voice attempt some amorous conversation inbetween some unmistakable huffs and puffs and it was pretty clear that God’s gift was getting his end wet.  This did not impress me.  I mean seriously, they couldn’t find an empty street or public toilet like normal people?  I’m all for holiday fun, but fucking in a dorm room where several others are trying to sleep is just the height of bad manners.  Just as I was poised to yell obscenities at the inconsiderate fornicators with my finger milimeters from the light switch, the same chainsaw snoring from earlier started up.  All over in a matter of moments.  So much for being God’s gift to women.         

Next day, first on my tourist to-do list was the Space Needle and the Experience Music Project/Science Fiction Museum.  I got a 24 hour pass for the Space Needle which meant I could go twice in a 24 hour period.  This turned out to be very handy as once I got to the top, my camera wouldn’t work because the battery had died.  So I used the first visit to just check the place out and do a souvenir shop then came back later that day to take photos after I had gone back to the hostel for a battery change. 

After my first Space Needle visit for the day I went to the Experience Music Project.  Naturally, as soon as I’m inside I get in trouble because I’m drinking from a bottle of water and the sign says no food or drink to ‘protect the archives’ even though everything is behind fucking glass.  It’s water.  I’m thirsty.  Seriously.  I want to drink it not spray it everywhere like a maniac.  Experiencing music was a little dull – there was some interesting exhibits about the history of the Seattle music scene as many popular bands/genres originated from the area plus a comprehensive Jimi Hendrix exhibit (he was born and buried in Seattle) that was quite good.  Another good thing was you got stamped at entry so you could come and go as you pleased for day allowing you to go somewhere else for lunch besides the overpriced EMP cafe.

Once back at the EMP with new battery in camera, I decided to have a look at the Science Fiction Museum.  It was kind of cool – Yoda, E.T and Donatello from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were there plus some interesting facts about everything and anything sci-fi.  After some final happy snaps at the EMP, I went back to the Space Needle for my second visit.  Photos included below for your viewing pleasure.

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Next on my hit list was the Woodland Park Zoo.  I was nearly going to give this place a miss since once you’ve seen one zoo, you’ve pretty much seen them all but I’m glad I didn’t because it was actually a really nice place to visit.  Although I did make the mistake of going on a Sunday which meant I was constantly being run over by parents who are clearly not qualified to drive a pram in a considerate manner.  The Zoo is quite large with a strong focus on conservation which means the animal enclosures are of a reasonable size so you don’t spend the day feeling sorry for the poor fuckers behind the bars.  There is also quite a diverse range of animals both local and from abroad.  My favourite was the Australian bird enclosure where you could hand feed cockatiels, budgies and rosellas.  The best part was when the birds crapped unnoticed on the people.  That was funny.

Next day, I decided to do the Dead Guy Tour run by the hostel.  This tour took me and 5 other hostellers to visit the graves of Bruce and Brandon Lee in Lake View Cemetary, Kurt Cobain’s house and the grave of Jimi Hendrix.  It was quite an enjoyable day minus one of the girls on the tour who happened to be from Las Vegas and so we had to hear all about Las Vegas and how great it is and where to stay and what to eat and blah blah blah.  I would have much preferred to hear about Seattle since that’s where we were.  The grave of Jimi Hendrix is quite impressive – he is actually buried under that great big cement dome you will see in the included happy snaps because people kept digging him up when he was just under turf.  How creepy is that.  Also, if you have a spare $50K lying around you can purchase one of the plots around the outside of the dome and be buried next to Jimi – apparently his sister is selling them on ebay.

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The following day, I paid a visit to the  Seattle Aquarium.  The Aquarium was a little ho-hum so I did it over fairly promptly and then decided to hit the Fisherman’s Restaurant for an appropriate seafood lunch.  Since their specialty was northwest Pacific cuisine, I opted for steamed mussels, a salmon burger which came with a clam chowder and deep fried oysters.  The mussels, salmon burger and chowder were pretty good but I don’t think deep frying oysters is really the way to go.  My server was really nice and even replaced my chowder as she thought the first one wasn’t up to scratch.  I tipped her $10.  After lunch, I went on a Seattle harbour cruise.  It was pleasant and even saw some sea lions frolicking in the bay.

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On my last evening in Seattle, I decided to take a ghost tour of the Pike Place Market.  The tour began at the Gum Wall which is so-named because people stick their unwanted gum to the wall.  According to the tour guide, it was recently voted the second germiest place in America which Seattlites are quite proud of.  Nice.  I was the first to arrive for the tour and tour guide informed me that we were expecting several others.  Only two more people showed up – one of them turned out to be my server from the Fisherman’s Restaurant!  She recognised me straightaway but it took me a moment to realise who she was since she wasn’t wearing the hideous uniform (it was REALLY bad).  The tour was good fun although we didn’t see any ghosts so enjoyed a couple of cocktails afterwards instead (well I did at least).

Peace out.

My train from Chicago to Seattle wasn’t scheduled to depart until 2.15pm so no rushing around like a headless chook as per New York depature.  So I left the hostel just after 12.30pm to get to Union Station, which I had walked from to the hostel on my arrival in Chicago in about 20 minutes.  For my departure, I had decided to save myself the walk and take the bus which would be quicker anyway right?  Not fucking likely.

Google Maps tells me I can take a bus which stops right out the front of the hostel directly to Union Station.  Sounds perfect.  I decide to check with the guy at reception just in case.  He says he doesn’t really know the bus routes and it appears he has never noticed the bus stop that is directly outside the hostel door.  Yeah thanks for your help douche bag.

I wait at the bus stop but no bus is coming.  Waiting… still no bus.  Maybe Google Maps lied.  I try the bus stop a block over where I had seen the bus I wanted stop earlier that morning.  Waiting… no bus.  In a panic, I decide to walk to Michigan Avenue where there are shitloads of buses.  On the walk there, my luggage strap decides to just come off my bag.  Not fly open or even snap, just slide off my bag and take my sleeping bag with it in the middle of the street.  How annoying.

Then on approaching Michigan Avenue there is road works right where I need to cross the street.  Just as I brace myself to haul my turtle across the road (since I don’t like the idea of rolling him through tar and gravel) along with the other pedestrians, one worker tells me to stop (but not everyone else wtf?) and walk to the next corner to cross the road heading east when I want to go north.  This means I would then have to cross the road a total of three times just to get to where I wanted to be with just one crossing.  Just as I’ve psyched myself into doing this, the worker changes his mind again and says I can cross where I originally wanted to.  Yeah thanks for that.

Back on the safety of the footpath, I now have to find a bus stop that has a bus that goes to Union Station.  After 10 minutes of dodging rude individuals who don’t like to move to the side for people with luggage, I find the bus stop with a bus that goes directly to Union Station.  Hallelujah.  Bus pulls up and it’s an old one which means instead of just one step up into the bus, it has four.  Also, there is no luggage area so all the old people (and the bus was full of old people) glare at me the entire way because my turtle is in the way, even though I was practically sitting on him.  I’m starting think maybe this is divine intervention telling me to do as Americans do and just fly everywhere.

At Union Station, I get my ticket and decide to check-in my baggage save me lugging it on the train and possibly breaking my neck trying to get into the overhead luggage compartment.  I go to the counter, Amtrak lady asks to see my ticket.  I give her my ticket.  She says I can’t check my baggage in because it must be done no later than 30 minutes before departure.  My departure is 2.15pm.  The time is 1.53pm.  Fuck you Amtrak.

Next I have to board the train.  I hand my ticket over for my boarding pass and I get told that to find my seat I have to walk six carriages down.  Sounds easy enough.  Only I can’t tell where one carriage starts and the next ends – do the six carriages include the cafe car as well?  There is also the number 711 written on my boarding pass (the boarding pass is usually just a scrap of paper with the station code for your final destination so they know when to boot you off - eg SEA for Seattle).  Perhaps this is my seat number?  I look in the door of the closet carriage.  It says seat 71 this way.  Maybe that’s me?

I get on the carriage.  It is full of old people.  Apparently they are handicapped old people because they tell me I have the wrong carriage – it is for disabled only.  Since I am obviously too able-bodied to be in the disabled only carriage, they tut-tut me off.  However, I did consider asking them if being a foreigner counts as handicapped in America.

I spot an Amtrak lady.  I tell her I am lost.  She looks at my boarding pass and says to go to the next open door and up the stairs to find a seat.  I do as she says.  As I go through the open door I notice a number on the side of the carriage – 711.  So it was the carriage number on my boarding pass – why didn’t I just get told that in the first place?

The remainder of the afternoon was pretty uneventful.  Since I was blessed with common sense, I sat next to someone who was only on the train for 3 hours so I ended up having two seats to myself for the rest of the trip.  I noticed there was a tosser sitting in the seat in front of me.  He whinged to the elderly gentlemen sitting across the aisle about his ex-wife and the fact he couldn’t have a cigarette whenever he wanted because there was no smoking on the train.  Seriously, what a dumbass – if you can’t smoke on a plane or a bus or any other form of public transport, why would Amtrak be any different?  I had dinner in the dining car and ate overpriced Amtrak slop and the service sucked so I refused to tip.

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That evening, I worked out I am conveniently short enough to fit across the two seats to sleep.  This was good because I snore really loudly when I sleep sitting up.  I know this because I snore myself awake when I have a little snooze while looking out the window.  Although my slumber was not interrupted by own snoring that night, I was rudely awoken at some ungodly hour by the tosser having a rather loud conversation.  Only there was no one talking to him and he wasn’t on a mobile phone.  He was having a good ol’ chit chat to himself.  It was at this point I realised he was not a tosser at all – he was a FUCKING NUTTER.  And his little midnight monologue was some of the most random shit I have ever heard.  So much so, I got out my notebook and decided to take some notes.   Check out these pearlers:

• Women are women.  They’re not like us. They’re not careful.
• I’m violent like left-wing Russians.  They are like the Irish of the Russians.
• In Utah you can’t smoke but you can walk around with 16 fucking wives. (Utah is a popular destination for polygamists)
• One wife is too many.  Two girlfriends is better than one wife.
• Yeah white power!
• Me, I like Mexican women.  They’re hard workers.
• I think I need to stop for a smoke break… I’d have one right here, if they throw me out they are going to have one hell of a fist fight.  I might end up in jail but it will be worth it.
• We’re gonna stop in a few minutes.  This is as far as I want to go – North Dakota.  Let me off for a fucking cigarette!
• I wish you had the opportunity to get to know me.  I’m one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.  I love animals.  I love women.  I’m just a little more outspoken than most guys.
• 2% – 5% of white females will consider dating outside their own race or other women.  In fact, they are more likely to date another woman than a black man.
• Just don’t walk out the door.  She might love you.  She just wants you to ask her the right questions.
• When you’re presented with a situation to ask questions but you’re too afraid to ask questions… I’m the guy who asks the goddamn questions.
• God is my best friend.
• I could have been President.  If I had run and said the right things, I could have won.  But I didn’t run.  I didn’t say the right things.  Obama is only 1 year older than me.
• Yesterday I had 13 women in my apartment.  I was the only guy there.  I was talking to ‘em like I’m talking to you right now.
• I don’t know if you guys have heard of the actor Tony Randal but that guy was making love to women in his 80s.  That’ll be me one day.
• Why do you think I’m sitting here talking to myself?  I’m depressed.  I don’t have my woman here.
• I’m adaptable.  I can adjust to any situation.  Puerto Rican, Chinese, I don’t care who they are.  I can adjust.  I can relate.  I’m the best.
• Let’s get this fucking canoe rolling!  Move it!
• They’ll let those fucking fairies get married but I can’t even have a cigarette.

That is just a small sample of the dribble.  I couldn’t write quick enough to get it all down.  When he started singing to himself, the elderly gentlemen told him to be quiet and that was the end of that.

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The next day at lunch, I was waiting at the dining car doot to be seated (as was the procedure and God help you if you didn’t follow it) when some douche bag comes in the door behind me and stands a little too close to my personal space bubble.  He aks me what they have to eat here.  Er, food?  I say I don’t know but perhaps he might try reading the menu.  I then get seated with the douche bag (since Amtrak is a little short on space, you don’t get a table to yourself so you share).  Without even looking at the menu he orders the spinach leaf salad for $6.  What a fuckwit – he knew what was on the menu but asked me anyway?  After I make my choice, he then asks me if I am from Great Britain.  I say no I am not.  Well, where are you from then?  You sound like you’re from Great Britain.  I tell him I’m from Australia.  He says he has met a lot of Australians and I don’t talk like them.  It seems that my accent is not an obvious one – a cashier at a supermarket in Niagara Falls thought I was Canadian and I’ve had quite a few Americans tell me I have a lovely Southern accent.  I suppose I do have a lovely Southern accent – it’s just from south of the Equator not the south of the USA.

My second night on the train was rather boring – there was no late night jibba-jabba to keep me entertained.  Next morning at breakfast in the dining car, I’m super hungry so as well as my $7.50 pancakes (I’d had similar ones  for $3.90 elsewhere and they were actually good) I decided to have a side of breakfast ’sausage’ and ‘hash browns’.  During previous breakfasts at my various destinations, I had noticed some interesting dining combinations.  For example, I don’t think it is unusual to have pancakes with maple syrup, eggs and sausages with tomato sauce for breakfast if one so desires – just not all together on the same plate.  Yes, that’s right.  In America, you can have a little maple syrup with your scrambled eggs, a little pancake with tomato sauce and a sausage with a bit of both.  Even I get a bit queasy and I’d pretty much eat shit from a stick.  So naturally, when my pancakes arrive the ’sausage’, which is round and flat like a rissole hence the ‘ ‘, is perched on top of my pancakes.  The hash brown is thankfully on its own plate (wouldn’t you put sausage with hash brown – sweet with sweet, savoury with savoury?) however, it is the sadest hash brown I have ever seen.  It’s basically grated potato heated up – that’s it.  No lovely crispy, greasy, fluffy potato square.  Just grated poo on a plate.  Incredibly depressing.  Especially since it ended up costing me $21.50 after the Amtrak server helped herself to a $10 tip before I realised.  Thanks bitch.

Peace out.

Apparently, Chicago is so-named not for gale forces but because the natives supposedly talk a lot and, as a result of so much talking, the city is windy.  Seriously.  I think that might be the lamest thing I have ever heard. I found out that little gem during a free walking tour of downtown Chicago provided by the hostel.  The tour was quite good – the fellow that lead the tour had lived in Chicago his whole life (he was old too) and it wasn’t so much a walk as a dawdle downtown.  I like dawdling, it is much better than walking.  Anyway, he showed the group the sights downtown and was quite knowledgeable with dates, names, events etc.

The following day I ventured out to the Field Museum of Natural History.  This is located on the Musueum Campus near Grant Park, and is also home to the Shedd Aquarium and the Adler Planetarium.  It seems though that once you have been to a natural history museum, you have been to them all as it was a lot like the American Museum of Natural History in New York.  So I experienced a bit of déjà vu for most of the day but to be fair there were some interesting exhibits.  My favourites were an impressive bug collection and Sue – the most complete skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus Rex ever found.

After the Field Museum, I visited the Shedd Aquarium.  It was a lot like any other aquarium with similar types of exhibits you would see anywhere but they also had a family of Beluga Whales, which were delightful.  It is worth going to the Shedd just to see the Belugas.  My admission also included an IMAX show which was a little anti-climatic and painful.  Anti-climatic because it was one of those Antarctic documentaries narrated by the soothing tones of David Attenborough so naturally one begins to enter a vegetative state until it is all cut short only after 20 minutes.  It wasn’t just me either – the entire audience was like Oh!? when the lights came on and the automated PA lady told us to get out.  Painful because it came with 4D special effects such as a jab in the back through your chair when the Great White Shark explodes out of the water to devour its unsuspecting prey.  I think it is supposed to scare you but really it just fucking hurts.

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The following day was my failed attempt at a glimpse of Oprah which you can read about in my last post.  I also browsed the outside walls of the Tribune Tower which were kind of cool because imbedded in the walls is a rock collection containing pieces of significant landmarks from around the world.  Some good ones were a chunk of Edinburgh Castle, some twisted metal from the World Trade Center and a piece of the Great Wall of China.  There was even some tiles from the Sydney Opera House.  How about that.

After some Oprah recovery the following morning (ie sleeping until midday), I visited the National Vietnam Veterans’ Art Museum.  Of all the museums I will visit over the next few weeks, I think this will be my favourite.  There were a lot of photographs, paintings and sculptures.  Some were funny, some were depressing, all were amazing.  There were also a couple of areas with displays by troops in Afghanistan and Iraq, which was appropriate I think.  One of my favourite items was a photo album belonging to Jo Collins – a Playboy Playmate from the 60s.  She visited troops in Vietnam after Hugh Hefner received a letter and money order for a lifetime subscription to Playboy from an American soldier.  The first issue of a lifetime subscription is supposed to be personally delivered by a Playmate and since the soldier requested Jo Collins (’if it wouldn’t be too much trouble’) she decided to pay them a visit.  And hand deliver the first issue of course.  For her efforts, she was made an honorary soldier and she donated her photo album cataloging her Vietnam visit to the Museum.

Next on my to-do list was the Adler Planetarium.  Talk about disappointment.  If it wasn’t for the two IMAX shows included in my admission, it would have been a complete waste of time.  Many of the exhibits were closed for renovation and there wasn’t many exhibits to start with.  There is a bit of history attached to the place but really the best thing about Adler is the view of Chicago which you can enjoy without even going inside.

The following day I attempted to visit the University of Chicago campus but it would seem I took the wrong train and got off at the wrong station because I ended up in some Godforsaken place where it appeared I was the only white person.  Since I was getting some looks that indicated I shouldn’t be there, I walked to the next station and got back on the train to the safety of downtown.  All was not lost however, as I paid a visit to the Chicago Cultural Center to check out the impressive Tiffany glass domes – see the pretty pictures below. 

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After my little train fuck-up, I decided to stick to taking the bus and went to the Museum of Science and Industry.  Although aimed mostly at families with noise polluting children and lousy opening hours, there were a lot of interesting things to see.  So I watched chickens hatch in the genetics lab and checked out the U-505 Submarine – the only German submarine in the United States captured by the Americans during WWII.  It was actually really interesting and alone worth the admission.  You can read about it here:

http://www.msichicago.org/whats-here/exhibits/u-505/

The Museum also had a special screening of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince in IMAX so I thought fuck it, I’m going to go.  Pity it was supposed to be the after-hours adult screening and I had to sit next to children that like to pee and play with their mobile phones during the movie.  Otherwise it was good.

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The following day I made a visit to Navy Pier and had a ride on the ferris wheel then went to Sears Tower for a view of Chicago from 103 storeys – see above for the sunset over Chicago.  I then got lost trying to find my way back to the hostel.  Navigating Chicago is actually pretty easy – after the Great Fire of 1871, the city was rebuilt right on top of the smouldering ruins of the old one (as you do) using a grid formation.  Also, Lake Michigan is on the east so if you just head towards the Lake, you know you’re going east.  Unfortunately, I left Sears Tower after dark so of course I couldn’t see the fucking Lake.  So after wandering in every direction but east for about an hour, I finally made it back to downtown and a bus stop that would get me a bus somewhere helpful.

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Last on my to-do list was the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum and the John Hancock Observatory.  The Nature Museum was a bit blah and I was able to do the place over in about an hour.  However, admission wasn’t expensive and the butterfly house was very cool (well actually it was kind of hot and humid to keep the butterflies happy).   Since Peggy didn’t take up nearly as much time as I had anticipated, I decided to visit the Lincoln Park Zoo which was just across the road.  This is a free (!) zoo, which was a good thing because a lot of the animals were a little camera shy.   Finally, a visit to John Hancock for some Snickers Bar Cheesecake (yes, there were Snickers Bars baked into the cheesecake) at the Cheesecake Factory and some more Chicago views at the Observatory.  Although not as high as Sears Towers – only 94 storeys – the John Hancock Building is much closer to Lake Michigan so I think the view is much nicer.  And the lines are shorter, which always gets my vote.

Peace out.

It’s Oprah’s 24th season and to celebrate she decides to shut down Michigan Avenue to have a street party.  The actual show taping doesn’t start until 5pm but the general public will be allowed in to the gated audience sections at 12pm and not before - according to oprah.com.  So I get to the party section of Michigan Avenue about 9.30 and already people are already being let in.  Oprah.com lies!  Since I wasn’t sure if once you were in you had to stay in, I decided to walk up and down the street to find where the best Oprah-viewing spot would be. 

There were six audience sections each with live big screens.  Audience section one and two were the best because they were right in front of the stage.  However, it didn’t look like these were open to the general public – rather only special people with special wristbands could get in. So, aside from mugging someone for their wristband it looked like section three was my best shot.   So after lining up and getting in, I wasn’t too happy when everyone was only allowed to go as far as section five.  Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back from the stage.  Seriously, you couldn’t see shit.  So after waiting for four hours in shitty section five, the riff raff aka general public was allowed to proceed to section three.

Unfortunately, other general public had already been allowed into this area because they had participated in a stupid dance choreographed to the Black Eyed Peas (who were going to be guests on the show) song ‘I’ve got a feeling’.  Supposedly, their job was to teach the general public how to do the dance for show taping.  I refused to do the dance because 1. it was stupid, 2. it was highly dangerous doing mash potatoes when packed like sardines and 3. it was stupid.  For their efforts, they had been given wristbands (but not the same as the special wristbands to get to section one and two) and early entry into section three.  Naturally I tried pushing in front of these try-hards but to no avail – there was too many people and some of them had brought their own chairs (it was standing room only – no seating provided) which took up a shitload of space and made stealthy pushing in almost impossible.

Finally, 5pm arrived and after some minor technical difficulties, Oprah came out on stage.  Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!  Only I couldn’t see her.  The sound stage was right in front of Oprah’s stage between section two and three, effectively blocking the view of the general public.  Of course, everyone could watch on the live big screens but it just wasn’t the same.  You can sit in the comfort of your own home and watch Oprah on a screen.  So I’ll just have to make a return trip to Chicago to see her in the flesh.

Peace out.

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