44 A.D.
["Right!" said James, Tim, Dan and Mitch.]
Whisky Girl had some great tunes to boogie on down to and we collectively shook our thang until the early hours. Back at the loft before bed, there was just enough time for a nightcap and an impromptu philosophy discussion (the kind commonly brought on by $7 coronas), 97% of the content of which is forgotten by morning.
The easiest way to get across town (or so we thought) was via the trams – The Navajo Lodge is quite a way from downtown, but it was the only place we could find available. Seems there’s some kind of convention on in town (seems there always is). We had to change tramlines in an area called Old Town and by the time we got to our latest in a long line of roadside motels, it had taken nearly a couple of hours to get from A to B. May have to get the local buses in future.
I ended the last post writing of my regret to wear flowers in my hair, and speaking of hair, I realised the other day that I’m going to have to head to the barber’s soon. Stay tuned for that particular entry - it’ll be a belter!
Anyway, back to the present, or rather, Tuesday evening. Not only did San Francisco have a strong effect on me, it also won the award for Best Bus Station on our trip. However, given that we spent the night there upon arriving in the city, returning to the same space was a bit like going back to an old bedroom. These days I have sleeping on buses down to an art form and it’s almost a shame that this is the last overnighter...almost.
Upon arriving in San Diego, we see that it is cool, clean and packed with beautiful people. California continues to inspire us, intimating that all our dreams can come true if we’d only just move out here permanently. In the song Hotel California they sang that “...you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.” Supposedly, we’ll be checking out before 11 a.m. and leaving on the 31st July, but you never know...
Our particular Hotel California, AKA “The Navajo Lodge”, could only accommodate us for two nights – Thursday and Friday – and so for Wednesday we had to put out the Couchsurfing Call. It was answered by Coco, who is originally from the Philippines and has lived in a loft apartment in the East Village of San Diego for 11 years. Coco is involved in all things artistic (she’s painted many wall murals across the city) and now focuses mainly on being a life coach. Most importantly, Coco has hosted loads of couchsurfers, including fellow Brits, and her place is as cool as can be.
[Loft from the left...]
[...loft from the right...]
[...and The English Couchsurfers' Suite.]
The apartment is all open plan, even the bathroom. Tim and I have our own mini loft space, slightly elevated from the main floor and hidden behind a large curtain for some privacy. Also living in the loft is Dan, originally from Colorado, who’s been in San Diego for about two years. He’s a budding film maker and he shows us some of the work he’s been involved in, such as “An unfabulous possession” and “Monster in my swimming pool”. The third resident of the apartment has just moved in that day; Mitch is from Lebanon and is over here studying for his degree in electrical engineering. So, with Coco’s art, Dan’s films, Tim’s photography, my writing, and, err, Mitch’s engineering, it feels like we’ve come together in a little multi-cultural arts community. By the way, I was only kidding about the bathroom.
Mitch’s living space is directly below the guest loft and Coco nips out to pick up a futon from across town. In line with previous couchsurfing experiences, Tim and I are called upon to move furniture and we transport Mitch’s new bed from the street to the living room. Then four blokes scratch their heads and try to assemble what is essentially a simple piece of kit while Coco cooks dinner. By the time she’s serving up, we’re still struggling with a rogue washer and whether to go against the instructions and drill holes in the base. Coco orders us to eat while she adds the final screws.
Tim and I spent late afternoon / early evening strolling by the quayside to find the visitors centre, which unfortunately had closed. We returned for a game of sock-tug-of-war with Coco’s two dogs, Max (already neutered and very chilled out) and Mango (yet to be neutered and extremely randy). As the evening progressed, we decided we should head out and see what the Gas Lamp district of San Diego had to offer. Coco and Dan understood our need for an economical(ish) evening and took us to Star Bar to fuel-up, before heading for the more hardcore-partying venue of Whisky Girl.
An aside – sticking with the word “hardcore”, we often have the television on in the background when in hotel rooms and consequently we’ve been exposed to a lot of US shows. Our favourite is Hardcore Pawn which is set in a family-run pawnbrokers in the heart of Detroit’s mean streets and features all kinds of nasty oddballs trying to flog their wares and becoming even nastier when they sober up and forget they pawned their TV for $5 the night before. It's great entertainment, though it gets a bit samey after four hours.
An aside to the above aside – sticking with the word “pawn”, we were driving back through Nevada from Yosemite last week and saw a sign for a shop called Guns `N’ Pawn. Just thought I would mention it.
Cometh the morning, cometh a fantastic breakfast cooked by Coco (I think Dan did the bacon, so he deserves credit if he did). After lounging around and dipping into selected Youtube clips on the large screen TV for a while, it was time for everyone to raise themselves to productivity and for the Grayboys to move on. Coco was a superb host (despite her poor attempts at a British accent – a kind of warped upperclass-cockney hybrid) and she made us feel right at home. In two days time she has two French couchsurfers coming to stay and I hoped we’d made a good enough impression for England to win the battle of the best guests.
At time of writing, the sun has just gone down and we have neighbours in the next room who are more vocal than usual and have people calling regularly at the door, the last guy wearing nothing but a pair of pants and holding a hair dryer. Are we about to witness the flipside the San Diego’s cool, clean and beautiful image?
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