San Luis Obispo to San Diego

Booking a ticket out of town is hard enough when your hostels WiFi keeps disconnecting, but it's positively frustrating when you have to navigate ridiculous state laws. Amtrak run a number of coaches between different destinations, but apparently state law means that you can only book an Amtrak coach with a train ticket. Despite the fact that they have a five hour coach ride between San Francisco and San Luis Obispo showing on their website, I'm not permitted to book it. So our choices were either a more expensive and longer coach/train combination, or an even longer Greyhound bus. We opted for the former, seduced by the glitzy name "The Coast Starlight".

In the dawn light we made our way to the Ferry Building and jumped on the coach to Oakland. Fifty minutes later we were queueing to board the train. A rather brusque conductor grabbed our tickets and demanded to know why we had not signed them. He then manually assigned us seats and harried us up the stairs. I was starting to feel like a rodeo cow.

This guy was Amtrak's equivalent of Seinfeld's soup Nazi. He marched up and down the aisle barking petty orders at people and writing in his little black book, I presume he was adding names to his book of "people I really hate". In one exchange he watched a lady put her heavy bag in the overhead luggage rack, then demanded to see her ticket stub. She told him it was in the bag, so he gave her a lecture on why she must have it on her person at all times. She got the bag down again, and began searching for the stub. When she produced it he said "I didn't need to see it right now, I just wanted you to know you must have it on you in case I want to see it".

The train ride was uneventful, we both slept for a while. One big positive about Amtrak's trains is that they have reclining seats and extra legroom, so I was able to grab forty winks. I woke up about half an hour from our destination, so I have no idea if the coast starlight was as scenic as the name suggests, but I did get to see a lake with about 30 egrets milling about it's edges.

We arrived in San Luis Obispo around 3pm and made our way to the hostel, which was just one block away. Unfortunately the hostel wasn't open but an old man sat on a swing chair in the porch told us we could leave our bags propped on the wall, that they'd be perfectly safe (sure enough when we returned 2 hours later they were still there), so we walked into town to get a late lunch.

San Luis Obispo is a very peculiar place. It's obviously pretty wealthy, the streets are clean, the houses well kept and the people well groomed. The presence of many independent shops, as well as upmarket brands like Abercrombie & Fitch hints at this wealth. It feels a bit like we have entered a twilight zone, not only because it is so different from San Francisco, but it almost feels like the town is hiding a big secret by outwardly trying to be too perfect.

We decided to spend our first day in the town centre. Our hostel had advised us to stay an extra night (we had planned for 2) because there was so much to do, but when Gemma asked for ideas they were pretty clueless ("erm ... Oh you could look around the shops") so we walked over to the Tourist Information Centre. Unfortunately about 90% of activities required a car.

Instead we took a look around the old town museum, where we saw an exhibit about a French winemaker whom made San Luis Obispo his home after serving in the French army in Tahiti. From there we went to the town art gallery, which had about 30 exhibits at most, and then on to the Mission, with it's large church and accommodation for the priests. Inside the mission there was a little museum full of faded photographs of former priests and woodworm bitten furniture from the missions history.

We started to head back to the hostel but had to sit in a shaded park for a while, unfortunately the hostel closed between 11am and 4.30pm for "cleaning". I'm aware I spent half of the last blog moaning about the poor hygiene standards of our last hostel, this time we found the opposite end of the spectrum. It's really frustrating being locked out of your hostel for five and a half hours of the day, not able to have a shower, do your washing or just to relax and make some lunch.

At least this one is clean though, close to the town, and a bit more mature than previous hostels. We've met some interesting people here, been able to spend evenings in chatting with the other guests in the lounge and spending some time on the internet updating the blog.

On our second day we decided to spread our wings, catching a bus to Pismo Beach. Somehow we managed to spend half a day in a place with "beach" in the name without seeing sand or sea! The bus thoughtfully dropped us off at the factory outlet shopping centre and before long we were heading in and out of designer shops, amazed at the prices! Having just spent fifty dollars posting excess luggage back home to England, we ended up buying more clothes!

Back in San Luis Obispo we walked downtown to the famous farmers market where all the local wares were on display. The stalls took over 4 blocks, and the mission plaza was full of giant pumpkins - evidently for a competition as the labels indicated: Largest Pumpkin; Heaviest Pumpkin; Most unusually shaped pumpkin; and the curiously titled "most beautiful pumpkin". Of all the fruit and vegetables I've ever come across I don't think I've ever looked at a pumpkin and thought "wow, that's beautiful" but they do things differently here! When we later suggested to another hostel guest that she could walk to the market, she exclaimed "7 blocks, are you guys kidding me!"

We wandered past the food stalls sampling as we went, Gemma had a pork tamales and sushi, I tried a pulled pork sandwich and a Cornish pasty, which was surprisingly similar to the real thing! As we walked and ate, various musicians serenaded us: a man in a pseudo Viking outfit played an electronic cello; a blues band further down the street followed by a mad old lady dancing by herself in the style of the mid-eighties rave culture. Like many of the things we have seen in America, it was an eclectic mix of people, foods, styles and cultures.

The following morning we had to get up at the crack of dawn to catch the imaginatively named "pacific surfliner" to San Diego. Unlike the previous train we did at least travel someway along the coast, but at 6am (and having slept on a bed at least foot too short for me) it was hard to get too excited, and it was a bit too hazy for a good view. The train ran pretty smoothly , the staff were surprisingly pleasant and we nodded off for a few hours.

We awoke shortly before arriving in Chatsworth, a destination only notable because we spent 2 hours sat at the platform. Unfortunately an incident had occurred further up the line that required the attention of the LAPD and a coroner. There was a great deal of speculation but no-one really knew what had happened. At one point we were told buses would be arriving to pick us up, so everyone left the train. Then we were told to get back on the train. When the train did set off the passengers all crowded to the side to see the police taking photo's, but it seemed like they had already removed the body.

We arrived in LA central late, so Amtrak decided to make us even later by holding our train for an additional hour and fifteen minutes, effectively making us the later train. At least we were able to stretch our legs, returning to the station foyer to grab some sushi from the same shop that we visited about 9 days earlier. Unlike England, everyone on the train was very friendly, it's unusual for me to see strangers talk to one another but here it seems second nature. Two people are conversing, someone else overhears and shouts out a question, a fourth person answers and before you know it the whole carriage is engaged. There are a lot of things you can identify in American society as unhealthy, but perhaps this is one thing they have over us.

By the time we arrived in San Diego, over 4 hours late, night had descended on the city. I prefer to arrive in a new town during the daylight, you can't help but make a target for the waifs and strays of a city carrying a huge backpack and looking out for street signs, but San Diego felt quite safe. We walked the 8 blocks to our hostel, the entrance for which is located between a row of 3 Italian restaurants in the Gaslamp district. I've renamed it Garlic Alley, for obvious reasons.

That night we found ourselves alone in our room, so after a quick but expensive meal nearby (lobster ravioli - the smallest portion I have seen in Americai) we passed out and slept for 12 blissful hours. When we eventually awoke the next day we decided to have a relaxing one, so we did nothing more adventurous than walk to the supermarket and put some washing on. Not quite the glamorous globetrotting you might think, but some days it's great to do nothing!

We also managed to watch some (American) football on TV in a downtown bar called The Tipsy Crow. We were just walking past and tried to check the score from the game taking place in London this weekend, but the bars patrons invited us inside and even made room for us at the bar, finding us a couple of spare stools. The Chargers (the local team) were playing away from home, but everyone made us feel so welcome that I tried to hide the Redskins shirt I had bought literally minutes before! Unfortunately we weren't the lucky charm they needed, as the Chargers managed to throw away an eleven point lead to lose 21-27. Still we both enjoyed it, and I was able to clarify a few of the rules I wasn't sure about.

On our second day we didn't get any further than Balboa Park, although in fairness we did walk there from downtown. There seemed to be an Indian cultural event talking place, local families looked on with amazement at the traditional clothes, dancing and singing. Given how multicultural London is, we both found it more interesting watching the Americans watching the Indians. Huge guys in San Diego Chargers shirts staring open-jawed at fragile looking Rajasthan girls as they whirled with delight to the beat of drums.

We made our way back to town via a bus. Whilst we waited we met Abel, a San Diego resident of Indian origin with MS. He was waiting for the bus also, and took great delight in telling us about his family including showing us a picture book from his sisters wedding (at which he was the proud ringbearer). A curious thing we have noticed is how willing everyone is to talk about their family, sometimes to the detriment of the conversation. Not so with Abel, who was a very sweet man and it was a shame we couldn't continue our chat on the bus.

Unfortunately the ride was a lesson in stereotypes, with some very loud, obnoxious people onboard. Despite there being several free seats, people went out of their way to cover the spares so we couldn't sit down, and the general conversation was punctuated by repeated use of words which I have no intention of writing here. One person offered assistance to a lady and was promptly put down (because she thought he was trying to mess with her head). Another woman loudly complained that she was bored of waiting at the bus-stop (for Able's ramp to deploy so he could board in his wheelchair). We both got off feeling a lot less positive about San Diego than previously, it is such a shame when you meet someone as genial and hospitable as Able, and then your mood is ruined by cretins. Thankfully the ride back into town was short.

We decided to book a further 2 nights in our hostel, not quite feeling like we were ready to hit Mexico, and having been recommended the USS Midway tour. The following day we walked about 5 minutes to the port and boarded this amazing aircraft carrier. The Midway was ordered in 1941, building began in 1943 and it was completed a few weeks before the end of WWII. Although she missed out on most of that war, she did see active service in Vietnam, and in particular the first Gulf War.

For anyone interested in military history, and especially in naval aviation, the USS Midway is a must-see attraction. Not only is the ship fascinating in herself, but her hangars and deck are littered with assorted aeroplanes and helicopters which at one point or another landed onboard her runway. From a 2nd World War F4U Corsair, via a Bell UH-1 "Huey", right through to the famous F-14 Tomcat of Top Gun fame. There are a huge number of aircraft to see, and each one marks a point on the self-guided audio-tour which is included in the surprisingly reasonable $18 entry fee.

What really stands this floating museum apart from other attractions, however, is the presence of volunteer veteran guides and their free talks and tours. On the runway we were given a great demonstration of how various planes would land (day and night) and in the tower we were taken on a tour of the control room, the chart room and the bridge. All of these guides, and several of the tourists, had served on the Midway, and consequently were extremely passionate about her, which made the talks so interesting.

We spent 3 hours onboard, and I reluctantly left in order to find some lunch. After some advice from one of our room-mates we signed up for a store card at our local grocery, and managed to save a few dollars on our lunch and dinner. If we'd known earlier we could have saved quite a lot by now. Unfortunately America is just becoming too expensive for us if we want to peg this adventure out for much longer, so when we returned to the hostel we decided to book our next leg. We'll be crossing into Mexico on Wednesday morning, and rather than stay in the border town of Tijuana we're going to board a coach down to Mazatlan, 27 hours away! I've been told that coaches in Mexico are superior to US or European models, so we're keeping our fingers crossed on that one.

San Francisco

We made our way north via a metro train to Union station, a bus to Bakersfield, a Train to Emeryville, and then another bus to San Francisco. The journey took over 12 hours in all, with competition like this it's no wonder so many Americans drive everywhere. I have read that the US is considering investing $600bn in a high speed rail network to offer a viable alternative to the car. It would make sense from the perspective of oil supplies, but maybe the economics wouldn't work, it's a lot to invest with no guarantee of a return.

Nevertheless the train ride was interesting, particularly when compared to our other journeys. The train left on time, had plenty of space with wide seats and large ceilings. We actually sat on the higher deck, in coach, which meant we got some really good views of not much in particular, the odd farm or backwater town. The train driver got a little trigger happy with his horn (because we crossed so many roads), the deafening noise really irritated Gemma, and the two German passengers who insisted on shouting their conversation didn't help either. And the conductors had presumably been to the Russian school of etiquette, it was a shame Korea hadn't exported some carriage attendants instead.

It was around 9pm by the time we arrived downtown, so we went straight to the hostel to check in. When we arrived we were asked to sign a form (by the receptionists own admission the gist of which was "no refunds"), we should have refused but we'd been travelling all day and wanted to rest our weary bodies. Rather than re-invent the wheel I'm just going to copy and paste the review I have written for the hostel website, every word for sordid word:

"Unfortunately this place is a hovel. But you get a free beer. The room was incredibly dirty, stains of various shapes and sizes on the bed linen and walls, the toilet didn't work, the shower just a trickle, and nothing fixed despite 4 days of asking, but you get a free beer. Don't even look at the carpet on the stairs. The WiFi was the worst I've ever known in a hostel. This could have been a good hostel in a great city, but instead of hiring a cleaner, a painter and a plumber, they prefer to provide a free beer. Sleep on the street and cuddle a tramp, it'll be cleaner and more comfortable. Tell him where you might have been staying and maybe he'll give you a free beer."
 
I normally try to look for the positives in difficult situations when travelling, because at the end of the day it's only your mood you can control, and only your experience. So why not be positive. But seriously, this place was an utter dump. Places like this give hostelling a bad name and can really knock public perception far harder than 10 great hostels can raise it. Which is why we've tried to be outdoors as much a possible. Soapbox over.

Fortunately San Francisco is a great place to be outdoors. We arrived in a mini-heatwave, and barring one very cold ride over the Golden Gate Bridge in an open top bus, it's been hot and humid throughout. On our first day we visited Fisherman's Wharf and Pier 39, very touristy but still fun. We ate a fish-which, which was basically a breaded fish fillet in a bun, smothered in coleslaw. It was humongous, but not very good - it was slimy and covered in olive oil. If you're going to serve breaded fish to an Englishman you need to make it better than that.

We've been catching cable cars back and forth across the city. Normally they are six dollars per ride, but if you buy a muni pass you can ride them as much as you like, as well as some other modes of transport. But it's the cable cars the city is most famous for, and not without good reason. The views are spectacular, crossing the undulating hills you can spot sights like Alcatraz or the Golden Gate Bridge, and of course you can hang off the side. Nothing ignites the dieing embers of childhood in a 30 year old man like the chance to hang off a cable car as you climb Nob Hill or descend down the steep slopes to Union Square.

We took another open top bus (did I mention I was addicted) because the tours were sold out at the weekend. We drove through the hippy district of Haight-Asbury, formerly home to the pharmaceutically inspired musicians like Janis Joplin, then on through the Golden Gate Park. As we came out of the tunnel and roared towards the bridge, someone switched the wind on and we froze. We kept our eyes peeled in case the Hanjin Miami was in the area but sadly didn't spot our former floating home. We jumped off the bus on the other side of the bridge for a few photos, as did nearly everyone else. It's quite lucky I'm tall enough to reach over other people's shoulders with my camera.

Back on board the bus we headed into town, driving towards but not onto Lombard Street. Our guide told us that a few years back someone tried to take a tour bus down its steep, winding street but got stuck. Apparently they had to saw the bus in half and helicopter the two halves out. We also saw the bullets holes in a wall above an atm which were the result of a failed assassination attempt on a US president, but I can't remember which one as the guides nasal tones caused me to switch off (although Gemma assures me it was Ford).

On Saturday night we went to a Rodeo! Catching a BART out from Powell street to Balboa Park, then a bus to Daly City, we were dropped off outside the beautifully named Cow Palace. Outside there was a small protest of animal rights campaigners with placards, unsuccessfully trying to explain to huge men with cowboy hats and massive belt buckles that the cows had rights. I guess they had a point, but I'd never been to a rodeo and really wanted to see what went on.

Inside there was a small market selling many of the things you might expect to find at a Rodeo: clothing and hats; leather; huge fizzy drinks and hotdogs; paintings of horses; and jerky. And I have to say, it was the best jerky I've ever eaten, much juicier than the dry South African style I'm more familiar with. We picked up a program and took our seats by the ringside and the show began.

The stadium announcer had the thickest Texan accent I've ever heard, we're sure he was putting it on, it was comical. His banter with the Rodeo Clown was amusing in a "I can't believe how bad this is" kind of way (fans of WWF wrestling will know what I mean). He introduced the acts as they came on, and he must have been distracting the participants as he was asked to shut up by an organiser at one point.

Bareback riding was the first event. These horses really jumped about and the riders did well to hang on for the whole 8 seconds. Once the buzzer went off to signal a rider had completed their time, they would attempt to leap onto the back of another horse being ridden by an assistant. Not all leaps were successful. The saddle Bronc riding was similar, only with saddles as the name would suggest. Both events were adrenaline packed spectacles. Hardly surprising given that the horses appeared to have a tightly tied rope around their nether-regions.

The steer wrestling was somewhat less exciting. Seeing a grown man jump off a horse and wrestle a calf to the ground felt a little unsporting, and we silently cheered on the junior cattle, to no avail. And the stock dog demonstration was laughable. The high octane commentator decried the event as amazing, wondrous and magical. But anyone who has ever seen a border collie herd forty sheep into a pen whilst the whistling farmer stood still would be less impressed by seeing a cowgirl on horseback do the same with 3 small cows, whilst riding around and virtually moving the cattle herself.

At least the team roping event was a bit better, as teams of 3 cowboys and cowgirls had to extract 3 similarly numbered cattle from a heard of 40, moving them into a pen without letting any others go across the halfway line. The early entrants looked like they'd only learnt to ride a horse that afternoon, I fancied I could do better on a pantomime steed, but they had saved the best until last, the final 5 teams managing to pen their cattle in around 30 seconds. Quite a feat.

Eventually we reached the last event, the bull riding. As you can probably imagine, these creatures were seriously annoyed at being prodded and pushed, and when the gates opened they really let fly. Only a very few riders managed to stay for the 8 seconds, the rest were flung unceremoniously to the ground. Fortunately two extremely brave men stayed in the ring and would attempt to distract the bulls from seeking revenge. Without these two action men, I'm pretty sure we'd have had an early Halloween treat!'

After the rodeo we flew across town to Union Square to catch the start of the Korean Grand Prix. We ran into the sports bar and the bouncer changed the channel just in time for the green light. The Grand Prix itself wasn't brilliant, but the Sports Bar was pretty interesting. Of course we have sports bars at home, but out here there are several different games and sports being played at the same time, so whilst we watched the racing other patrons watched one of three different college football games, the NASCAR, or ice hockey. All without soundtracks, as the pumping hip-hop music blared out of the speakers and assorted fans cheered a touchdown.

No visit to San Francisco is complete without a trip to Alcatraz island, so on our final day in town we wandered down to pier 33 for the boat. Despite it being a Monday morning outside of holiday season the queues were still pretty big, but it was a beautiful day. The bay looked amazing when seen from the water, and the little boat whizzed across the water to the island in about 15 minutes. As everyone disembarked a Park Ranger began a speech about avoiding dangerous objects (like steps, seriously!) so in the true spirit of Frank Morris we legged it up the hill whilst everyone else was warned to avoid poking themselves in the eye with their fingers.

We went straight up to the main penitentiary building, which looked exactly as I remembered it from 15 years ago. The paint peeling and the cement crumbling, it's a nostalgic place to visit. The audio tour was pretty good, and we wandered past the cells, canteen, library and control room whilst the voice of a former prison guard told you about the history of the prison, and it's more infamous inmates, like Al Capone, Robert "the Birdman" Stroud, and of course Frank Morris (who looked nothing like Clint Eastwood, incidentally).

Like the other tourists we posed for photos in the cells, before heading back down the hill to the now empty theatre, to watch a brief video about the islands other history. Originally a military fort before becoming a federal prison for the most desperate criminals, after the prison was closed it was occupied by Native Americans for 15 months, in an effort to draw attention to their fight for their native lands. For many Americans Alcatraz is not just a tourist spot to buy novelty clothes styled like prison issued rags, but has played an integral part of their history. Despite the decrepit state of the island, or perhaps because of it, I like Alcatraz. It has a "well-used" feel to it, a genuine article amongst all the more glitzy but less substantial attractions in California.

However the native Americans aren't the only people fighting for their rights. Just the other day we caught the tail end of a protest march heading through Union Square and Powell Street. In this case it was a peaceful march, led by people demanding the bankers pay to set American straight again. But without suggesting that they didn't have a point most of the people marching looked well fed, well clothed like they had somewhere to return to after the march. I really can't write about San Francisco without mentioning another group of people, the homeless.

I came to San Francisco a couple of times in the nineties, during my teens, so my memories of the city are sketchy. But I honestly cannot remember seeing so many people on the street. The other day we passed a mission church which provides a free meal to homeless people, the queue went around the block, all the way up the next block. There was hundreds of people, a truly shocking sight.

Our hostel borders the rich area of Union Square and the poorer Tenderloin neighbourhood. At night, people can be seen rummaging through the hostel bins, and in the morning there's not a scrap left in them, everything having been taken or discarded on the floor. You cannot leave the building without being asked for spare change or a smoke. What is even worse, I'd estimate over half of the people I've spoken to had serious mental health issues. There just doesn't seem to be any help available them, nowhere for them to go. The problem I first noticed in LA feels like an epidemic up here in San Francisco. And it is genuinely depressing.

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm looking forward to leaving this town which held some fond memories for me. I've managed to swap my trans-Siberian handbook for a book on poverty in America, but I will be reading it on the train tomorrow as we head south to San Luis Obispo.

The City of Angels

As the port agent Chris whisked us away in his jeep, a few of the crew waved us goodbye from the decks. We didn't even have the time to take a few photos of the ship, and within moments we had left the port and moved into downtown Long Beach. Chris pointed out a few sights, gave us a potted history of the area and a rundown on the abysmal form of the local sports teams, and left us a short walk from the metro stop.

We both fancied a drink, so we went for a wander through the palm covered boulevards. The sight of so many shops, cafes and bars intimidated us, it took all our concentration just to buy a bottle of soda. A whole world of choice had re-opened before our eyes. Did we want cola, lemonade, root beer, cream soda, orange? I was getting a headache from having to think again. I settled on a diet cola, and promptly spilt it on my shirt. Sometimes choice is bad. 

We jumped on the metro, found a couple of seats and bedded in. It didn't take long for one of the local crazies to find us. An old lad, his neck in a brace and smelling somewhat dubious, finished scaring a child and sat in front of us. He heard our accents, as I was trying to explain to Gemma what dire neighborhoods we were passing through, and turned around. A big toothy grin glared at us, and without having been asked began explaining what a "bohog" was. 

All the way from Transit Mall through to Union Station (a long way) we were treated to such treasures as how to use a bohog to scare children, and what "extra services" were available to paraplegic boys in LA. So we arrived at Union, our minds having been expanded in directions we never anticipated, and changed onto a mercifully more peaceful train towards Hollywood.

Our hostel was located just off Hollywood Boulevard, a strange, alternative, run down and mildly seedy area where Coffee shops and pizza restaurants vied for space with fetish clothing and adult DVD stores. Indeed, if one so desired you could step out in your new size 10 leather high heels and nurses uniform to pick up a happy meal. I joke of course. McDonald's is rank. 

Fortunately the hostel, located inside a kind of wooden compound, was actually fine. It was quite a big hostel, so we met some interesting people, There was an outside area, a large air conditioned lounge with bar, and lots of activities going on. In fact, this hostel might have got a glowing review had it not been for their failure to adhere to their own noise policies, which ruined our last night in LA. 

On the first full day in the city we decided to get our bearings from the top of a bus, (I may have mentioned before, I become like a child at Disneyland when I see an open top bus tour). Because of the size of LA there were three different routes running, our ticket included all of them so it was quite good value. It was a beautiful day so as we took our seats up top we delved into our bags for the suncream (little did we know)! 

 
The tour took us around Hollywood and through towards Beverley Hills. Just round the corner from Rodeo Drive we jumped off and went for a walk. Rodeo drive has to be one of the most privileged shopping areas in the world. Forget your Armani, Gucci or Versace, one shop here is only open by appointment. The cheapest suit on sale is $15,000, and if you don't buy anything you still get charged $5000 for the pleasure of looking around. Small wonder there is a Bugatti Veyron parked outside (the owners).

We changed bus here, and headed out towards Santa Monica. As we drove out there was a strange haze on the horizon, which we were approaching rapidly. The haze was fog, and as soon as we hit it the temperature dropped noticeably. Within seconds we, and everyone onboard, were shivering and wrapping our arms around ourselves to keep warm. We reached the coast by Santa Monica pier, but couldn't even make out the water. The lifeguards beach huts, so distinctive, appeared empty, with no sign of David Hasslehof or Pamela Anderson. We decided not to get off, it was far too cold for the beach.

 
Back at Rodeo drive we changed route again, rejoining the Hollywood tour. We spent more time in the luxury areas, at every other stop the commentary would add "so if you want to bump into a celebrity, this might be the stop for you". I have to say, although I might do a double take if I saw Tom Cruise choosing his breakfast cereal, or Julia Roberts deciding between a Granny Smith or a Golden Delicious, neither of us are terribly interested in celebrity culture, so we both found the constant talk about these people a little tedious, and sad. 

There are posters I have noticed throughout LA which proclaim that 1 in 6 Americans struggles to feed their family every day. There are charity stores around every other corner, and at night as we walk to a restaurant for dinner the homeless can be seen making their beds in every available doorway. So all the talk about celebrity culture feels a bit crude, shameless. There are reminders at every step that poverty is not far away. One evening a destitute looking man entered the hostel garden whilst I was chatting with a couple, he started talking to us, asking where we were from and if we were having fun. All the while he was rummaging through the hostel bins, taking out bottles and cans and collecting them in a black plastic bag, for recycling. 

On our second day in LA we went to Universal Studios, catching the metro one stop and taking a short shuttle ride to the entrance. It wasn't cheap, $71 each in fact which rather blows the backpacking budget and felt like an obscene amount to spend on a days entertainment in a place where so many go hungry. However we had a lot of fun, meeting Homer & Marge, riding around a virtual Krustyland, taking a pleasure boat through Jurassic Park, and being thrown headlong into the lair of the Mummy. The Waterworld show, based loosely on the movie of the same name, was an odd mixture of comically cheesy acting and special effects. After the show, one of the actors started reeling off a list of tv shows that the performers had once been in, the national obsession with fame showing through. 

 
We queued up for an hour to go on the Studio tour. It was quite well done, we were taken around several movie and TV sets including Desperate Housewives, Bruce Almighty, Back to the Future, and my personal favourite the original Bates Motel from Psycho. All the while a tv screen showed us clips from the relevant movies so we could compare the show to the reality. All of which would have been made even better had our tour guide, JJ, shut up for a few minutes. Telling someone that what they are about to see, what they are currently seeing, and what they have seen is amazing doesn't necessarily make it so. Universal have signed a deal with Hasbro to make movies based on board games (battleship, monopoly etc etc) - AMAZING! Amazingly bad I fear.

We went to the Farmers Market on our final day in LA, taking the bus. The market was pleasant enough, but the heat was formidable and we retreated into the shaded eating areas where we discovered some delicious fresh food. And not just for humans, I should add, as there was also a doggy bakery, in case your dachshund fancies a donut. We also saw a fitness video being filmed in the middle of a street, which was arguably the campest thing I have ever seen, and I had trouble holding the camera still from laughing so much. 

Later we caught up on a little shopping, some necessities which we had been lacking. I finally have a second pair of jeans, having managed to get through 5 weeks of traveling with just the one pair (don't worry Mum, I alternated with my shorts), and a couple of t-shirts for the hot weather. As we wandered between the shops I noticed a thermometer reading 99 degrees, so we made our way back to the hostel to cool down and begin packing.

The Pacific: An Alternative View

After 3 days of very smooth sailing we were enjoying ourselves. The officers and crew seemed to bend over backwards to make us welcome, but we are a rarity for them, the Captain told us he has only had 7 passengers in 3 years!! The Captain is a lovely man, and very well respected on board. (He has invited us to stay with him and his family in Berlin!) He has been with this ship for 3 years (4 months on and 4 months off) and he has put a lot of time and effort into making a nice environment for the men (there are no women on board except me!). He has built a Miami Beach Club where they have parties every Saturday night. This is one of a kind (nearly everyone in the crew has told me this, they are very proud of it and their Captain and rightly so!)

We had a party last night, it was a feast! Piles of prawns, chicken, pork, crab balls, veg, and noodles were heaped into large cooking pots on each table which were cooked in front of us in a delicious broth while we supped beers (all free) and shared stories. I didn't go to bed until 1am, even then the crew tried to persuade me to stay with offers of more beer and vodka!

The chef is great too, a talented if not slightly crazy man! We have 3 huge meals a day, breakfast is at 7.30am - pancakes, melba toast, cereal, fruit, then lunch at 12.30, which is always 3 courses! Homemade soup, followed by roast lamb, roast duck or steak with all the trimmings, with fruit and icecream for dessert. Dinner (at 5.30pm) is also cooked, calamari or some other fish with a buffet of salads and cold cuts!

We filled the rest of our days by going to the gym (one cycling machine!), swimming, playing table tennis and watching films. At 5pm, the Captain calls us to happy hour in the officers mess before dinner.


On Sunday we were invited to the miami beach club to watch a prerecorded football match between Germany and Poland - quite exciting since half the officers are German and the other half are Polish! Thankfully it finished 2-2 so there was no love lost! However, I struggled a bit to drink the Newcastle Brown Ale, two 5 litre kegs that I think had been opened in our honour!

We also visited the Bridge quite a lot, it was interesting up there, and the 360 degree views were spectacular. We particularly enjoyed this when we sailed through the Japanese islands and also at night time when the stars are abundant. Unfortunately I didn't seen any whales or dolphins. Darren was a bit luckier than me and saw quite a few dolphins. The first time he saw them I was dozing in the cabin after being woken by the fire alarm test. He came running back to the cabin screaming "Gemma! Quick! Get dressed!" I thought there was a real fire and nearly burst into tears before he shouted "Dolphins"! Although we ran to the deck, they were gone, unable to keep up with the pace of the ship. We both missed about 20 whales surrounding us whilst sleeping, and I chose the wrong moment to go to the toilet during another party and missed them again! I guess it wasn't meant to be!

We crossed the date line half way through our voyage, and had two Tuesdays! They call the second 'Retarded Tuesday'! I think that is a bit mean so I will be using the more politically correct term 'Special Tuesday'! We went to the bridge for the big moment, which actually happened around 1am on Wednesday. As we were due to cross around midnight we arrived very early and sat drinking coffee and staring at the stars. We almost missed it, but luckily the first mate was on hand to give us a one minute warning. We scrambled around to get our cameras ready and I filmed the GPS as it changed. Nothing actually happened though! No fireworks or revelations!

The waves were a bit more choppy during the middle of our trip and we were moving around quite a bit. We had French onion soup for lunch - the challenge was to keep it in your bowl, or eat it fast enough so it didn't matter! Night times were a bit tough, we were rolling about in the bed and our stuff kept sliding off the tables and onto us or the floor. I was a bit sick and Darren ended up sleeping on the sofa. The captain assured us that a few beers will put it right, although I wasn't so sure! I was just hoping that there would still be enough water in the pool! Swimming was difficult enough because I kept crashing into Darren as the pool was more like a rectangular puddle, only 5m x 3m! More of a plunge pool, and about as warm!


We didn't get to know the Phillippino crew as much as we would have liked, there is a strong sense of hierarchy that sometimes we found a little difficult. They all insist on calling us sir and madam despite us asking them not to! Also, they seem to act differently when the officers are around, not even willing to get into a conversation. Over lunch, I asked the 1st officer if there was only hot water at certain times of the day as we didn't have any in our cabin. It turned out that a valve had been left off and he fixed it for us straight away, laughing that we hadn't asked sooner. By tea, we were told off by the steward for not asking him and told that we must use the proper channels next time! It seems that we are both at the top and the bottom of the pile!!

By the second half of our trip we were both a little bored and were really looking forward to arriving in America. I had run out of paid for books on my kindle so had to resort to reading my free downloads - D H Lawrence's The Trespasser! He is far to poetic for me, a real waffler! The daily routine got repetitive and we felt a bit restricted having everything done for us. I particularly missed going into a cafe or shop and being able to CHOOSE something!


We toured the engine room, which was overwhelming because of the size, and repeated our daily routine with a few more naps interspersed. The clocks moved forward by an hour most nights, and by the end of the trip I found myself sleeping all day and awake all night.

The last night of our journey was the best. We had a barbeque on the decks and I ended up in the beach club until 4am! (I paid for it the next day!) It was great swapping stories about Philippine and English culture and I will never forget playing Jenga! Quite difficult after a few beers, even more difficult on a moving ship! But lots of laughter and kind words.

That's all for now, Darren will keep you updated with our American adventure and I will write again soon

The Pacific - Part Three

Day 9 - 6th October

At dinner the previous night the Steward told us he wanted to clean our room the next day at 9am, so we made plans to visit the bridge in the daylight. We are free to visit anytime we like, the Captain just asks that we call up first double check with the duty officer. When we phoned we were pleased to hear the friendly voice of the 2nd Officer.

The morning sun was in full glare, and for our first daylight experience of the bridge the room was bathed in sunlight. We re-familiarised ourselves with the navigation equipment whilst Vicente worked on his maps. For the return voyage the Miami will be going up into the Bering sea. However we were more concerned with how close to California we were. Unfortunately not very close was the answer, in fact we were much nearer Vancouver Island at this time.

Vicente showed us a communication the ship had received overnight, warning all ships approaching Long Beach to be careful as pods of Blue & Humpback Whales have been spotted in the vicinity, so we are hopeful we might get to see some more wildlife.In the meantime, we amused ourselves by sitting and posing in the Captains chair, and taking photographs of pretty much everything, from pretty much every angle. Fortunately Vicente got into the spirit as well, posing in front of his work for us, and taking a couple of photos himself.

We were quite surprised to see a fully kitted window cleaner appear suddenly, but the Miami is being given a good scrub today. We are approaching US coastal waters, and the local authorities sound delightful. The Captain mentioned to us that on the last trip, during an inspection, they found a sliver of orange peel on the deck and fined him $1000! As a consequence, all over the ship from the bow to the stern there are crewmembers cleaning today. It is a funny sight seeing men covered by bright yellow waterproofs, whilst the sun is shining and the sea so calm.

In the evening during our pre-dinner drink the talk turned to our plans for when we reach California. The officers seemed in high spirits (perhaps because of our proximity to land, and the prospect of some shore leave) and the Chief Engineer is also planning a holiday to the states for next summer. After discussing LA and San Francisco, talk reached Las Vegas. Everyone was most insistent that we go, and to encourage us Peer produced two DVD's he had made of the ship's officers previous "jolly boys outings", which we watched as the sun went down.


Day 10 - 7th October

We woke early, somewhat unexpectedly given our previous form, so I thought I would try to catch the sunrise on deck. Except I hadn't noticed until I got outside that we were sailing through a huge bank of fog. On a big ship like this, on such a huge ocean, my sense of perspective has dimmed a little, and in this fog I have no idea how far I can see. I suddenly feel glad the men on the bridge have GPS.

I think we are both feeling a little restless today. There isn't a great deal more of the ship to explore, and we are nearing our destination. All the talk of Vegas last night was fun, but we still have more than 48 hours to go. It's not quite boredom, more that we can't settle down to any one task, restlessness. When you get on board for the first time you accept certain conditions and adjust your mindset accordingly, but when you are being told about 24 hour casinos, pleasure flights above the grand canyon, extravagant shows and 99c shrimp cocktails, it's bound to unsettle you a little.

After another good breakfast (sausage and egg) we played a little table tennis, put some more washing on, spent time doing some crosswords and listened to music. Lunch eventually came around. All the meals onboard are a at a set time, the schedule for which is: breakfast - 7.30 to 8; lunch - 12 - 12.30; dinner - 5.30 to 6. It's a little earlier than we would normally eat, but the plan is designed to fit around crew changes and you can't begrudge anyone a fair meal.

We rarely see the officers and crew during the daytime, unless we bump into them during the course of their work. There is often someone missing during mealtimes in the officers mess, and because everyone (apart from us) has been working hard, 7 days a week, conversation is sometimes at a premium. We sometimes feel that we are talking too much and stop, to let everyone eat in peace.

After lunch we visited the bridge again, to work out where we are. We aren't following the coast in a straight line, because of the curve we run on, but we're about 500 nautical miles off the coast of the US. We hovered the mouse over our destination, it shows about 900 nm to Long Beach so we've covered the bulk of the journey now. We both picked up copies of the NSB in-house magazine, I read a story written by a passenger like us who took the same journey and had the bad luck to hit a huge storm which registered 10 on the Beaufort scale and had to suffer 14 metre waves! We've had nothing like that, only a bit of swell which died a few days ago. Since then this great ocean has felt like a millpond, thankfully,

During our evening meal we only saw the First Officer, Adam. We struck up a conversation about the working life onboard such a ship as the Miami. We have both noticed that, when talking with just one of officers, the conversation flows more freely, and this was no exception.

Adam talked about what it was like to live and work onboard, particularly as regards the crew. They usually start work around 6am, and can work right through to 5pm - but can choose to work longer hours as overtime. On Saturdays everyone tends to finish at 4pm, and earlier on Sundays, but can still finish much later if they are behind on the overtime hours (they must complete it in large blocks as they are on the ship for months at a time, and only get paid once they reach a threshold).

We both got the impression that Adam felt it could be excessive, and was concerned about the effect it could have on men who spend so long away from home. Adam also talked about some of different Captains he had served under, and explained that the whole ethos of a ship is directed by the Captain's will. Some are good but only play by the rule book, others are very severe ("one said - you must keep your foot on the crews necks; not enough to strangle them but enough to make them follow your orders").

Once again Captain Auerbach got a glowing review, and we can testify to that, as so many of gthe crew have been friendly, charming and hospitable towards us. As just one example, the second mate (who was on the bridge when we crossed the date line) popped down to see us with a print out of the GPS map from our crossing, completed with a photo of the ship and one of us, which he had laminated together as a souvenir.


Day 11 - 8th October

There was some work going on last night, something involving cutting metal and loud instruments. Gemma and I both had a terrible nights sleep, waking at all hours, and we were both exhausted by the time my alarm clock went off. We made it down to breakfast, then promptly back to bed and slept right through until lunchtime. Which was most unfortunate because the ships mechanic, Toralf, spotted a number of different whales around this time.

As we get nearer and nearer to our destination we have been told to keep a lookout for whales and dolphins, as they are numerous in this area. Whilst waiting for Gemma to get dressed I wandered out on to the deck and spotted 6 dolphins playing in the ships surf, not 20 metres from where I stood. One in particular seemed to take great delight in leaping high out of the water.

I watched them for about 20 seconds before I remembered that I had neither my camera nor girlfriend, so I flew back to the cabin to collect them. "Gemma! Quick! Get dressed!" I screamed. In hindsight I shouldn't have chosen fire alarm drill day for such a wake-up call. I scared Gemma out of her wits. By the time I had returned to the deck with my camera they had disappeared from sight.

After lunch, with nothing much to do, we took a walk to the forecastle, but didn't see any more dolphins, so we fell back asleep. We woke in the afternoon, ready for the Saturday evening festivities. Today, at 5pm everyone not on duty congregated in the Miami Beach bar for a barbeque. Peer delved into his extensive music DVD collection to find his recording of the Queens Garden Party, and as Brian May played his guitar from the roof of Buckingham Palace we began eating and drinking.

Huge prawns, ribs, chicken, sausages, and lamb with all the necessary trimmings for a successful barbeque were spread out before us. The cook had obviously been busy today, and everyone enjoyed a hearty meal. As the sun dived down we spotted more dolphins playing by the boat. Unfortunately Gemma had gone to the toilet and missed them again. After dinner, and quite a few bottles of Becks and Tsingtao, the fun began.

The Captain, on one of his trips home, picked up a Jenga tower. It is a pretty comical sight to see the officers and crew all gathered around the tower, taking it in turns to remove a brick, whilst the ship moves. Several of the crew have become adept at the game, although the Captain appears to be the expert. I'm told that, as the loser must buy the ships company a crate of beer, these games can get pretty competitive, even during rough seas.

Gemma joined in, whilst I wandered around the table taking some photos. On his first ever go the Chief Engineer knocked the tower down and had to write his name down next to the first crate on the Captains shopping list. The crew were delighted with this turn of events. The next fall came about when the cook tried to walk past the table, just before the Chief Engineer was about to face an even more daunting tower, and the crew cried "fix"!

I fancy that the bar, and the jenga game, go to show why Captain Auerbach is such a respected man onboard his vessel. Even as I write this before heading to bed the hardcore gamers are still gathered around the table. Something tells me that when the Miami next leaves port, she will be the most well stocked ship on the Pacific.

Day 12 - 9th October

The party in the Miami Beach bar went on till the early hours. Gemma came up to collect me, apparently the crew wanted to talk with us both, so I didn't make it to bed first time around. We traded stories of London and the Philippines with several of the crew, the story they seemed most interested in was the recent riots (fortunately they weren't interested in the rugby results). We shared the last of the barbequed food and talked about our home cuisines, and whilst the crew told us about locusts, scorpions, and dog and catmeat I suddenly felt a deep longing for cod and chips (with a pickled egg).

We talked about our families and our jobs. All of the men are married, most have children, and one or two have more than one wife. The crew usually sign on for a period of 6 months, sometimes as much as 10, and when they finish they get a couple of months off. After all the talk (and a few drinks) I didn't get to sleep until 2am, and Gemma a few hours later. At least we didn't have to start our shift at 8am, unfortunately they did. I am sure there are more than a few sore heads on deck today. There is definitely one in our cabin.

As the sun rose I took a walk on deck and began to detect a few signs that we were nearing our destination. Several large lumps of seaweed were soon followed by a container ship, and then another. As the clouds began to clear up I finally spotted land. At first it looked much like the fog banks I have been seeing for a few days, but it became more distinct, with jagged peaks. Even then it was too distant to make out any man made features.

I managed to wake sleeping beauty for lunch, another delicious steak and chips followed by ice cream. Although I am craving the choice of food which California will surely offer, you really can't fault Cookie And the Messman for their efforts. For 12 days they've managed to produce very healthy and filling meals, and I know we'll miss Cookie's high pitched singing coming from the galley and our steward's beaming smile.

With our final meal onboard over, one of us went back to bed, while the other walked to the forecastle, can you guess which one did which? Up the front of the ship the view was superb, passing between the coast and an island, the bay full of little white yachts and seagulls dive bombing us. The bow is really an incredibly tranquil place, perhaps the one area where you cannot hear the huge engine. The only noise is from the nose breaking through the water, but as we had slowed considerably from our earlier speed of 24 knotts it sounded more like someone paddling the feet in the water. I spent over an hour here, just enjoying the sun (and peering over the front hoping to spot more dolphins).

 

Just as I returned to the cabin, the phone rang. The Captain wanted to invite us up to the bridge one final time. I went up and the view was even better this time. Borrowing the ships binoculars I could just make out the letters of the Hollywood sign. In the foreground, the city of Los Angeles spread out below the hills and basked in sunlight, and even closer the port area complete with the Queen Mary.

A small boat whizzed towards us, made a circling movement and came alongside. Leaning out from the furthest point of the bridge (which hangs above the water) I watched as the pilot made his leap onto the Miami, and mentally traced the route he would be taking, up through the interior bones of the ship, through the engine room, and 10 minutes later he appeared on the bridge. It's quite a hike on a vessel this size.

It wasn't until we had entered the port itself, at the moment that I was watching seals at play in the harbour, that I remembered we had to pack still, so I said my goodbyes to all on the bridge and dashed down two floors to our cabin. As soon as I entered I spotted an apple which I had overlooked (US customs rules mean no fresh produce in your rooms) so I had to run down to the Mess on B deck, and back, before I could begin my packing.

Half an hour later we were called down to the Captains Office for our interview with customs. We had to wait while the crew were cleared first (which was fair enough, they all had jobs to do before they could go on shoreleave). In the queue we were able to say our goodbyes to all our friends from the crew and met the friendly US port agent Chris Wilson, and eventually we were called, to be greeted by a stern man in uniform. He asked the usual questions, about our plans and why we were arriving by boat, and eventually stamped our visas for six months.

We hurriedly departed the ship, not because of a desperation to leave it, but Chris had offered us a lift to a metro station in Long Beach but he had to dash to another vessel afterwards. As we struggled down the increasingly wobbly gangway with our heavy backpacks, our first taste of America was the sound of forty burly and tattoed US stevedores calling out "Welcome to America".

The Pacific - Part Two

Day 5 - 3rd October

Today, monday, is a German holiday (Reunification Day) which means that most of the crew work less hours. We forget this, and after breakfast (cheese and ham omelet) we head down to the ships laundry room to do some washing. All of the machines are in use except one, clearly labeled Steward Only. Not wishing to upset the apple cart, we go to find the steward to ask if we can use it. He is fine with this, and having performed our hierarchical obligations we catch the elevator back down to the lower decks.

Later we discovered the ships pc, and the Captain provided us with an email address for free. It was a really nice surprise to find that we can send an email home to let our folks know that we are ok, and of course to request the football scores. It was less nice to find out that Everton lost the derby, and Peterborough threw away the lead to lose to Doncaster! We also managed to buy a�global phone card, I make a mental note to phone home tomorrow to surprise my parents on their wedding anniversary.

At 11am the phone rang. We were never quite sure what to make of the ringing, would it be the bridge telling us to run to the bow because dolphins or killer whales had been spotted? This time it is the captain, reminding us to come to the Miami Beach Bar to celebrate Reunion Day. We made our way down the stairs carefully, conscious of the rocking motion of the ship which is now more noticeable than at any time before. One moment the corridor feels like an attempt at Everest, the next you think you are racing Usain Bolt.

Down in the bar the officers have started drinking, as we arrive they pour us both a large Newcastle Brown Ale. Shit. Pawel, the second engineer, fires up a Santana DVD. You really can't fault the officers on their generosity or hospitality, just their love of awful British beer. As we drink the Steward places various dishes on the table behind us, and at 12 we sit down to eat. Lunch today is a Korean Barbeque, although not really a barbeque at all. We cook pork kebabs over a portable stove, and share bowls of kimchi, pickled vegetables, chicken and noodles and a delicious spicy peanut sauce.

After we have eaten we sit around the table, whilst the Captain pours us shot glasses of Blackcurrent Schnapps. I ask the Captain if the US customs are difficult to deal with, his laugh suggests that he has more than a few stories about them. They all involve comedy accents, hand gestures which resemble guns being waved vigorously and other demonstrations of excessive zeal. The First engineer suggests that the Captain is allowed to marry us, and the Captain adds that he could divorce us too. My reply also involves hand gestures which resemble guns pointed at my head by both our mothers!

The evening was very quiet. None of the officers came down to dinner, so we ate alone. Because of the holiday, it's another cold cut night, but this time the left over kebabs from lunch were served and they were still delicious. During our meal Gemma, whose seat looks towards a portable, mentions the horizon. We both stared outside for a few minutes, the ship was really rolling, far heavier than we had experienced thus far. Unlike a cross channel ferry it's not a particularly nauseating roll, when the ship reaches it furthest lurch it seems to hang there for quite some time, gradually building up it's energy for the return.

Back in the room I had to put away a few things we had left out on the tables. As darkness fell over the ship and the stars came out, I picked up my book and tried to read, conscious of the fact that, although I still felt safe, the rolling was enough to unsettle me to the point of insomnia.


Day 6 - 4th October

Neither of us slept very well last night, the rolling continuing through the night and into daybreak. When we eventually rise the ship seems to be lurching only to the left, momentarily righting itself then plunging back again. Outside the sky is filled with clouds and the wind is whipping up the sea blowing spray onto the decks. We are nearing the halfway point of the voyage, I start hoping the motion doesn't continue the whole time, because it's impossible to get a good nights rest like this.

After a quick breakfast, again without seeing any of the officers, we go back to the room and try to sleep some more. The rocking continues to the point that, fed up of having to grip the mattress, I grab my pillow and duvet and lay down on the couch , which is at different angle to the bed. Now the rocking is between my feet and head, so I wedge myself between the cabinets at either end and manage to fall asleep.

When I wake up a few hours later, the motion has nearly subsided. Relieved at this turn of events I get dressed and go outside for some fresh air, and discover to my shock that we have stopped moving. We are just floating, bobbing up and down on the waves just like one of the hardy seabirds we see from time to time so far from land. This is something I never expected, knowing what a tight schedule these vessels must keep to, and to be so far from land has an uneasy effect on the mind.

By the time we head down to the mess for lunch, the ship is back underway, and the rocking restarts. It begins to rain also, lashing against the portholes. We bump into the Captain, Gemma mentions the motion, and the Captain just laughs. It seems this is quite normal. In the afternoon we have a fire drill. Which is to say that the crew did. When the drill was announced, gemma and I assumed we would be playing the role of passengers in distress. Given our instructions were to "wait for instructions" we donned our fluorescent orange life jackets, and sat in our room, waiting! Forty minutes later one of the crew wandered past our room. He peeked in and noticed us, ready for the drill. "Oh! The drill has finished" he informed us, so we sheepishly repackaged our life jackets in the drawer.

Using a phonecard I manage to call my parents (6am UK time) to wish them a Happy Anniversary (and Birthday to Dad). Later in the evening the Captain reminds us that we will be crossing the International date line, which means that tomorrow will be the same day as today, hopefully the same just a little less rocky and a little more stimulating. There's no chance of table tennis if it stays like this. He invites us up the the bridge to watch the jump over the line on the navigation equipment, but can't be sure what time, he will let us know.

In the evening, after a chicken curry dinner, we try to kill some time with a Jody Foster DVD. At 11.30 we head up to the bridge, where the 2nd officer, a friendly Philippine called Vicente gives us a run down on our situation. He points to a dot on the GPS and tells us there is another ship just under 3 miles away, crossing the Pacific in the other direction. Staring out of the huge bridge windows we can make out some dull lights which appear to be much further away. He let's us have a peek through the binoculars.

We're just 94 nautical miles away from the Aleutian Islands now, very close to a US Navy firing range. Vicente shows us the navigation equipment and points out that we are now bearing down upon the international date line, which we should hit about 1am. We decide to wait it out, how many other times are we likely to cross here in a ship?

At midnight the watch changes, we say goodnight to Vicente and hello to the 2nd mate, who is at pains to make us feel welcome. Whilst we move into the map room to look at more equipment, he sets us a table and chairs right by the window and makes us both a cup of coffee. And so, shortly before 1am we cross the very line that saved Phileas Fogs bet. There is no fanfare, but it is interesting to watch the equipment suddenly switch from East to West. We are now halfway around the world, or halfway home depending on which way you look at it.


Day 7 - 4th October

Due to our time on the bridge we didn't get back to the room until 1am and then had to put our watches forwards an hour. We slept well, too well, missing our alarm and breakfast so by the time we rose at 10am we were very hungry. We felt like we were killing time until lunch.

In the afternoon we didn't really achieve much. We went to do more washing but the machines were full. Trying to play table tennis was comical, the swell affecting both our games. We went for a dip in the pool, the thermometer showed 27c but it really wasn't that warm, and the water sloshed about severely.

We both spent some time contacting family from the ships office. The Captain provided us with a ships email address which we have taken advantage of, and we purchased a phonecard for $24 which allows us about 45 minutes of call time. It has been really nice being able to contact the people at home who you are missing, and today especially it helped us both.

Perhaps because of our late night, or because of the mental effect of repeating the previous day, we both felt a bit bored today. Neither of us really got out teeth into anything. Today is really the first day I've felt a longing to be back on dry land, able to choose what I will have for dinner, to change my scenery, and of course to sleep in a bed which isn't moving!


Day 8 - 5th October

Not for the first time, we didn't have the best nights sleep. Not because of rough of weather, I'm putting it down to a lack of activity and exercise. We try to be as active as we can, but there is a limit to how often you want to walk to the forecastle. Fortunately today had something different lined up for us, so after a delicious breakfast (eggs Benedict) we went to the ships office to meet Pawel, 2nd engineer, for a tour of the engine room.

Entering a door in the main structure marked "authorised personnel ONLY", we donned ear protectors and made our way through a second door, where the noise, smell and heat became immediately apparent (it would have made Fred Dibnah weep with joy). We could brief glimpses of various bits of machinery and piping before we were ushered inside the control room. Here Pawel showed us the panels and switches which control everything from how hot the swimming pool is to the water levels in the ballast tanks.

We were given a quick run down of what we were about to see (we could take our ear muffs off in the control room), and then we dived back out to the mechanical mayhem. It's a little difficult to describe what we saw, my mind has never been one for such things, and it was hard to catch what Pawel was saying to us (fortunately I took some snaps). I can recall seeing the pistons, which weigh a staggering 9 tonnes each), and the main engine itself was just enormous, bigger than an old steam engine (and far more more powerful, capable of delivering up to 93,000 horsepower).

We walked down several flights of stairs, looking here at some parts and there into another room. It was like something from the Poseidon Adventure, (except it was the right way up). We saw the propeller shaft, churning around and driving us towards California, and were treated to a look at the steering mechanism. By this point we were to the back of the vessel, the metal surface felt cold to the touch and we could see our breathe - Pawel explained that we were at the outer point now, on the other side was water, and lots of it!

We went for a hike around the lower walkway, located at the bottom of the ship, and discovered a leaking steam pipe. We also saw a manhole for the pilot, who has to make his way from the pilot launch to the bridge by jumping across the sea and climbing up through the interior. And during the tour we met several of the crew, some that we recognised and others we didn't. Generally they seemed pleased to see us, happy we were taking an interest in their work.

The tour finished around 10am, by which time we were both worn out. The rest of the day was a pretty lazy one, spent sleeping, eating and relaxing in the cabin. We finished quite a few crosswords between us and watched another movie. Although today was considered a Sunday for crew working hours (as there was an extra day in this week) there didn't seem to be much happening, so we had a relatively early night.