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.
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