I honestly don't how how this stuff happens to me sometimes. I had one task for the morning, to go to Chinatown and get some chicken for a weekend picnic from a shop which makes me salivate just thinking about it.
It is a simple journey, but often fraught, and involves one bus which is usually packed to the rafters regardless of the time of day. Today was no exception. I get on at the first stop so am normally guaranteed a seat at least. Today the bus-stop was so packed, I was lucky to get the second to last seat left on the back row, meaning that I was squashed in and unable to get out unless the whole row moved. Nice. Luckily, I know that everyone gets off at the same stop as I was getting off at so all would be well (I am a seasoned bus rider). In that close proximity, I made friends instantly.
One of my new bus friends was positively delighted by someone talking hands free on a mobile and laughed away when I explained to her what she was doing. She had previously thought she was insane. Now she had all the facts at her disposal, she decided that mobile-lady must be very rich. Did I mention how cute she was? She then launched into the whole subject of phones, and how she usually makes up excuses to get off the phone (let alone talk to people in public! On a bus!), saying things like she has water boiling (a (bizarre) trick learnt from her mother in law!) Her world seemed frankly lovely; deliciously naive and full of child-like wonder. I was privileged to have been shown a brief glimpse. As we neared our destination, she urged me not to go home after dark, to avoid the tunnel especially and gave me top tips on where to get the bus home and still be able to get on. Bless her heart.
I got what I had come for easily, and skipped out of the shop laden with chicken and with a spring in my step. There was a bus right there at the bus stop which was full but not too bad by the usual standards so feeling very smug indeed I jumped on it. I didn't even look to see which number it was as I thought all buses from there went the same way. I know better now. One minute I am passing Union Square and finally have a seat, then Whole Foods, so far so good; the next I am on the Freeway heading south at speed, hopelessly and ridiculously far away from anywhere I know.
The minute the next bus stop loomed I got off and casually crossed the road to get the bus back again, as if that was what I had intended all along, but this time planning where I would get off, and expecting a long walk ahead of me. 'Luckily' for me, the next bus that came along didn't go back on the freeway so I had no clue where I would end up. It is a beautifully sunny day today so I just sat back and enjoyed the ride; I had a map in my bag and I knew I would recognise something soon. Besides, I wouldn't go hungry.
Soon I recognised a street, jumped off and headed for the General Hospital, where I knew I could get a free shuttle the whole way home, walk avoided. It was better than I could ever have hoped for really. All in all, it was a nice ride, good to see a previously unexplored part of town, I shared a laugh with a genuinely lovely person, the whole trip only cost $1.50 (about £1) and most importantly, the chicken clearly enjoyed itself.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
And then, they gave out free pizza!?!
Last night, we went to an ice hockey game. For those of you who don't know me, I don't really do sport. I don't mind playing the occasional game of strictly non-team based activities in a safe and loving environment, but watching other people sweat just doesn't do it for me (with caveats to include snooker, athletics, and the London Marathon the morning after the night before). Until now that is. I have discovered a whole world previously unexplored.
The tickets were a Christmas present (thanks Dan!) and the match was the San Jose Sharks versus Tampa Bay Lightening. The result was 7-1 to the Sharks but never mind about that...
We had to get the train to San Jose where we met Dan with an hour to spare before the game started. So, like any other self respecting sports fans (I imagine,) we grabbed a beer and a San Jose special hotdog which turned out to be as big as my face (and my face isn't small) and contain chilli, onions, cheese and sour cream. Then we had to negotiate our way to our seats with full hands and steep steps. Trouble was asked for, and for once, didn't deliver. Hooray. It was clear that we were not ice hockey fans (and not just because everyone else was dressed from head to toe in Sharks gear) as we were unable to walk at a sensible pace laden with lard as well as finding our seats. Luckily a lovely steward took pity on us and braved my armpit without even flinching to retrieve the tickets, and thus seat numbers, in order to direct us.
After hotdogs had been consumed but not spilt (you can tell I am 30 now, oh yes, it has finally happened, I am a grown up), and we had got up several times to let people into their seats, the hours between 7.30 pm and 10pm were filled with different theme tunes, violence, ad breaks, prize winners, chants, the irritating but fascinating commentary of a group behind who seemed unable to keep their thoughts inside their heads, and were obsessed with the referees 'sack', oh and some sport.
At no point did I have any idea what was happening. I felt like Freud the first time that he went to a Catholic Church with his devout nurse*, only to watch people sitting down and standing up in the right places, and speaking in unity. Have I made a comparison with sport and religion there? How did that happen?
We clapped along and stood up when everyone else did but refrained from chanting as I for one had no clue what they were saying. Dan tried to give a stranger a hi five when the first goal was scored but half-missed embarrassingly, but who cared? No one.
Then, about three quarters of the way through and in one of the endless stoppages for some reason we could never fathom, one of the sponsors gave out free pizzas! Three boxes to three lucky people.
An audience member caught a puck and looked like his wife had just given birth to their first child after five fruitless years of trying for a baby.
The replays, which now had commentary, bore little resemblance to what we had just watched and helped only very dimly with my understanding of the game.
The only time there was absolute silence was when the national anthem was sung at the beginning of the proceedings and although the words didn't seem to be very well known for the beginning verse, 'the land of the free' bit was belted out. I felt like I was in a film, or an episode of the Simpson's at the very least.
A 'kiss cam' was employed which homed in on couples in the audience and stayed on them until they kissed which was frankly just weird, but the crowd went wild.
That is the very best that I can do to describe the situation and having read it back, I don't think it even comes close. It was madness itself, surprisingly infectious, fascinating, awe inspiring and constantly surprising. I don't think I will ever go again. I had an absolute ball.
*I did a sociology degree, it would amaze you to know what is in my brain but I do remember reading that somewhere. For all you literals, I don't really know what Freud felt so I am imagining. Anyway, stop reading this and get back to the ice hockey. I'm going to talk about pizza in a minute. Exciting!
The tickets were a Christmas present (thanks Dan!) and the match was the San Jose Sharks versus Tampa Bay Lightening. The result was 7-1 to the Sharks but never mind about that...
We had to get the train to San Jose where we met Dan with an hour to spare before the game started. So, like any other self respecting sports fans (I imagine,) we grabbed a beer and a San Jose special hotdog which turned out to be as big as my face (and my face isn't small) and contain chilli, onions, cheese and sour cream. Then we had to negotiate our way to our seats with full hands and steep steps. Trouble was asked for, and for once, didn't deliver. Hooray. It was clear that we were not ice hockey fans (and not just because everyone else was dressed from head to toe in Sharks gear) as we were unable to walk at a sensible pace laden with lard as well as finding our seats. Luckily a lovely steward took pity on us and braved my armpit without even flinching to retrieve the tickets, and thus seat numbers, in order to direct us.
After hotdogs had been consumed but not spilt (you can tell I am 30 now, oh yes, it has finally happened, I am a grown up), and we had got up several times to let people into their seats, the hours between 7.30 pm and 10pm were filled with different theme tunes, violence, ad breaks, prize winners, chants, the irritating but fascinating commentary of a group behind who seemed unable to keep their thoughts inside their heads, and were obsessed with the referees 'sack', oh and some sport.
At no point did I have any idea what was happening. I felt like Freud the first time that he went to a Catholic Church with his devout nurse*, only to watch people sitting down and standing up in the right places, and speaking in unity. Have I made a comparison with sport and religion there? How did that happen?
We clapped along and stood up when everyone else did but refrained from chanting as I for one had no clue what they were saying. Dan tried to give a stranger a hi five when the first goal was scored but half-missed embarrassingly, but who cared? No one.
Then, about three quarters of the way through and in one of the endless stoppages for some reason we could never fathom, one of the sponsors gave out free pizzas! Three boxes to three lucky people.
An audience member caught a puck and looked like his wife had just given birth to their first child after five fruitless years of trying for a baby.
The replays, which now had commentary, bore little resemblance to what we had just watched and helped only very dimly with my understanding of the game.
The only time there was absolute silence was when the national anthem was sung at the beginning of the proceedings and although the words didn't seem to be very well known for the beginning verse, 'the land of the free' bit was belted out. I felt like I was in a film, or an episode of the Simpson's at the very least.
A 'kiss cam' was employed which homed in on couples in the audience and stayed on them until they kissed which was frankly just weird, but the crowd went wild.
That is the very best that I can do to describe the situation and having read it back, I don't think it even comes close. It was madness itself, surprisingly infectious, fascinating, awe inspiring and constantly surprising. I don't think I will ever go again. I had an absolute ball.
*I did a sociology degree, it would amaze you to know what is in my brain but I do remember reading that somewhere. For all you literals, I don't really know what Freud felt so I am imagining. Anyway, stop reading this and get back to the ice hockey. I'm going to talk about pizza in a minute. Exciting!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Meat, Meat, Meat
We decided we would embrace US Christmas traditions this year and as Thanksgiving was so great, after a quick Google based research session, we threw caution to the wind and ordered a Turducken breast. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this festive meat, it is a turkey breast, which has a duck breast inside, and inside the duck breast is a chicken breast. In the harsh light of the day, it sounds disgusting. NOW it does, but there is something about the run up to Christmas; the gift inspiration fretting, the impending poverty, scarves in the cold, the brainwashing songs, the (bigger) obsession with food, the colour red, the general campery; it makes you do crazy things.
No excuses, the fact remains, we ordered a trio of meat and placed in it our trust and high hopes.
Firstly, it was immense, even by the standard US portions sizes we have grown accustomed to. We thought it would last for 2 dinners and 3 lunches and represent good value. The reality was it was seemingly endless and taunted me for days whenever I opened the fridge.
We thought it would be delicious. We were so very very wrong. The chicken breast (and excuse me while I gag in memory) was minced and piped in to the duck. The duck was tiny and disappointing, and the turkey was turkey. Dull with a tendency to be dry. Oh well, we never have to have one of those again. Next year, it's deep fryed turkey all the way.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Mid Way Point Review
The day after Boxing Day marked our first six months in the country and now we have less than six months left on our current visa. It is flying by.
At this time of year, those review of the year programmes are in plentiful supply. I thought I would do my own. I have a terrible memory though so it will probably be the last 2 months I manage. Since we have been here I have done all sorts of things I have never done before which on their own are hardly worth mentioning but all together take on a life on their own, and have changed me. Plus, I love an excuse to make a list.
So, here goes - I have sung in public at the top of my voice (at Sing along Sound of Music), noticed for the first time that the constellations here are all backwards, had my first telephone interview, learnt new phrases, had my privacy invaded over a misplaced Magimix (don't ask, it will just make me mad again), got my first US cell phone number, eaten raw squid (yuck, yuck, yuck), been to a place which I have seen on a film (Vertigo), successfully grown my hair (it won't last - it looks like a dog's dinner), been asked countless times where I am from, felt home sick for the first time in my life, evaluated my country, embraced Skype, eaten the best oranges I have ever tasted, spent a lot of time with myself, watched Seasons 1 to 4 of House, not seen and rarely missed any TV, blogged for the first time, felt utterly, overwhelmingly frustrated, spent time in an airport arrivals lounge, answered to and signed a different name, climbed the biggest hills, flown long haul, turned 30, thought seriously about natural disasters, found a new favourite sitcom (shock, horror), and developed a bigger taste for difference.
Let's hope the next six months are just as informative, life changing and fun. Happy New Year!
At this time of year, those review of the year programmes are in plentiful supply. I thought I would do my own. I have a terrible memory though so it will probably be the last 2 months I manage. Since we have been here I have done all sorts of things I have never done before which on their own are hardly worth mentioning but all together take on a life on their own, and have changed me. Plus, I love an excuse to make a list.
So, here goes - I have sung in public at the top of my voice (at Sing along Sound of Music), noticed for the first time that the constellations here are all backwards, had my first telephone interview, learnt new phrases, had my privacy invaded over a misplaced Magimix (don't ask, it will just make me mad again), got my first US cell phone number, eaten raw squid (yuck, yuck, yuck), been to a place which I have seen on a film (Vertigo), successfully grown my hair (it won't last - it looks like a dog's dinner), been asked countless times where I am from, felt home sick for the first time in my life, evaluated my country, embraced Skype, eaten the best oranges I have ever tasted, spent a lot of time with myself, watched Seasons 1 to 4 of House, not seen and rarely missed any TV, blogged for the first time, felt utterly, overwhelmingly frustrated, spent time in an airport arrivals lounge, answered to and signed a different name, climbed the biggest hills, flown long haul, turned 30, thought seriously about natural disasters, found a new favourite sitcom (shock, horror), and developed a bigger taste for difference.
Let's hope the next six months are just as informative, life changing and fun. Happy New Year!
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