Squishy sidewalks, spitting, stoodios and sand.

According to the calendar in my system tray it’s been over two weeks since I moved from my home in London to San Francisco. Really? According to my brain, I can’t tell if it has been two days or two years. It’s flown by and yet it seems like an age.

Work asked me to move out here for six months so here I am. Before my departure I was a bag of nerves. I’m one of life’s worriers. Although I knew a big change would be good for me, I mainly focussed on all the bad shit that could (and in my head most certainly would) happen. I need to stop doing that (I never will).

So my intention was to write a series of really witty accounts about my encounters with American people and culture. That will have to wait. I’ve experienced far too many things in the past two weeks to do that. This journal is more of a scatter gun approach to clear the way so here is some stuff I’ve learnt:




The gap between the rich and the poor in San Francisco is far greater than that spanned by any bridge. (And the bridges are deceptively vast in a fascinating yet understated fashion).

Accommodation is bloody expensive. SF is bloody expensive. (But I’ve found myself a flat. Or what’s known as a stoodio apartment. It’s slap bang in town. I love it so much.)

Brainy geeks live in the Bay Area.

You’re not going to learn how to play poker when you’re drunk in a wine cellar.

Baseball really is a ridiculously All American family day out. I blagged me some free tickets from a random barmaid for a SF Giants game. It was cool. We (the Giants) won against the Colorado Whatevers. A big fat guy hit the ball in the water, the Americans went crazy. (It’s still rounders with beer.)

Hotels make you go crazy after a while if you're not on holiday.

You can’t live without toast.

They put a lot of effort into public transport in SF but the Tube still beats it by miles. At least now I know how visitors to London feel when confronted by a Tube map (I still swear the Tube is easier).

The BBC really is good. So far I only miss BBC TV (and Marmite.)  

Whole Foods is good but fucking expensive. Still, they sell me Finn Crisp so who cares, I'm four packs deep already.

Americans spit on the street quite a lot.

Big blocks are big.  

If you sleep on the beach when it’s windy and the ocean is roaring, you will wake up with a lot of sand in your ears. (So THAT’S why that guy had his hood up.)

I’ve discovered I’m unbeatable at soccer computer games in this country. I have made friends with the guy that runs the bar over the street. He likes FIFA on the Xbox. He hooked it up to his TV’s so we could play in the bar. The Americans all said how good they were.  I was worried. I beat them all.... with the USA.

Getting up at 6.45 needn’t be depressing.

Buying a drink from a very camp barman can literally turn into a song and dance.

I have the best t-shirt tan ever (or worst depending on your outlook). Depending on what t-shirts I wear it’s disturbingly visible. My arms have stopped peeling now and I am blond. Win.

An epic run along the bay is a run like no other. Flanked by skyscrapers and sea, washed in orange sun and covered in goosebumps. It's good for the soul but not good for tendons.




So I think that concludes my first journal from NorCal. It would seem SF is a great place. Was all that worry back in London worth it? Not so far. It’s going well.



This week I recommend:
1. Squishy sidewalks
2. Bridges
3. Furnishings
4. Pale ales


This week I do not recommend:
1. American coins and Tenderloins
2. Wearing headphones
3. Not double bagging