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Hello America
There are new years, and then there are New Years. For my money, you don’t get much Newer than moving to another continent the day after the year starts.
On January 1st, I’d arranged to meet up with all my friends at a pub in Islington, for a final goodbye before disappearing. Well, I hadn’t arranged it so much as scattered an email around and wondered whether people would bother showing.
I’m still shocked that what must have been 30 of you did. I was touched. I even had to wipe a tear from my eye when I left. No, really. It wasn’t at all easy to say goodbye. I’m gonna miss you guys…
Even harder was saying goodbye to Emma at the airport the following day. We both knew that I’d probably be moving to California before we got back together, but that doesn’t make contemplating a long-distance relationship any easier when you’re twenty minutes away from starting it. More tears were shed, but at least we were both glad of being able to spend a last full week together before I left. I’m gonna miss you especially…
Up, up and away…
The flight from London to San Francisco is interminable. Maybe it was partly because I wasn’t feeling too hot after a painful goodbye, but the hours just dragged, even with a couple of dozes, as well as “Garden State” (lovely, brilliant film) and “Cellular” (just about stupid enough to pass through the other side of the stupid barrier back into “good” again). I was going to watch “Collateral” too, but the feed on the in-flight entertainment was so fuzzy it was unwatchable. Damn.
As we flew down from Canada and through Washington State, I got an amazing view. There were few clouds about, and we could see way across the plains, with various famous volcanoes visible below. It was beautiful, and a fitting welcome-of-sorts to a place which is just, well, bigger than any cliches about being enormous.
A final, welcome break in my in-flight boredom came around an hour before landing, just as they were handing round the immigration landing cards to be filled out. It was very strange having to enter “United States” as my country of residence, especially as I hadn’t even landed there yet.
That, however, wasn’t what broke my boredom. The real clincher was the increasing apprehension in my gut regarding driving. Stupid, really, but driving in the US has been the only thing I’ve had any fear about since this whole crazy thing started. And now, in an hour’s time, I’d actually have to take the wheel. As I said before I left, my road-related fears (in descending order) were:
- Driving on the right-hand side of the road
- The confusion of sitting on the left-hand side of the car
- Driving automatic (which I’d never done before)
No biggies really, but enough of a change to make driving a weird experience.
Landing was kind of cool, sweeping in past Oakland Intl. to get a great view of the big blinky runway lights, and then we were down in the dusky rain. “Great”, I thought. The driving fears list expanded a little:
- Driving on the right-hand side of the road
- The confusion of sitting on the left-hand side of the car
- Driving automatic (which I’d never done before)
- Doing all the above in the rain (which Californians aren’t used to driving in)
- Doing all the above in the dark
Immigration and Customs was easy enough, although a heads-up to anyone else with a work-type visa - you absolutely do need an original of any petition paperwork you had. I was glad that I paid attention when someone mentioned the fact in passing several months ago.
Whale of a time
“You’re getting a smallish car, yeah?” the woman from the rental firm asked as we walked out into the garage. I nodded. “We’ll give you the Grand Prix then”, she said, walking me along a row and pointing. I peered cautiously beyond the giant all-American saloon we were drawing up to, expecting to see a Nissan or something but no, this was it. Woah, as a stereotyped Californian might say.
The first few minutes in the car were not at all smooth. For a start, having never driven an automatic, I had no idea how to get it out of park, and had to ask someone else. Sigh. (For anyone else, you depress the footbrake, which I’m sure I did already know).
After that little snafu, I lost the card to exit the carpark by sitting on it, and had to park up again and get out before I found it. Sigh. In a way, this was good - by this point I was so desperate to get out of the carpark and on my way, that most of the fear had vanished.
And, to be perfectly honest, there was no need for fear. After English country roads, motorways-o-doom and then the hell which is London, the roads in the Bay Area are a dream. Clearly laid out, leisurely-paced yet fast, driving is a real pleasure. I’ve even got used to having Automatic (although I still prefer Manual in my heart).
The drive was a fairly easy one, down 101 to Sunnyvale, but at that point the vague directions I’d been given got me completely lost, until I was cruising around back-roads desperately looking for a road-name I recognised that could lead me to Old San Francisco Road.
In the end, I gave up. I was hungry, and tired (it was 8pm by now, 4am where I’d just come from). When I saw a Taco Bell, I pulled up. Now, having Taco Bell as your first meal in America is probably not a great cultural high, but I’ve been here before, and I’d never had a Taco Bell. Besides, these guys could surely give me directions.
Sure enough, I left 15 minutes later complete with a direction (”you’re only two blocks north of where you need to be - go that way) and a stomach full of a 1/2 pound beef burrito. Not haute cuisine, but it sure filled a hole.
10 minutes later, after my first couple of U-turns (we don’t really have U-turns in the UK, at least not as a designed part of the road layout), I was at the Renaissance Apartments. Hurrah. I’d even managed to find an Indian convenience store across the road that sold real PG Tips.
I felt bad, really - this is all about embracing a new culture, after all, but a lot of goodbyes, a heavy flight, an involved drive and a frantic hunt for a flat can only be solved by one thing really.
So as soon as I got in, I put on a pan of water and had myself a nice cup of tea and a sit down.
Then I slept. Lots.
There’s lots more to say on my first week in Cali., but that can wait for another post. In the meantime, amuse yourself with photos of the apartment, and more of the whale-car.
