But I suppose, now that I've drastically changed my plans for him, I can reveal a little bit about what's going on. Oh and maybe throw in some stuff about my five days in Brisbane too.
So last time you were with me I was finishing up my Fiji time. What I failed to mention was that any spare second I had there I was thinking about John.
'Daaawwww' I hear you say, 'how cute, she had a holiday roamance.' But it wasn't like that, not just some passing romance. It was different. But have no fear, I'm not going to go into details because
a) this isn't some soppy 'dear diary' type thing
b) it's between me and him anyway thanks
and c) you're probably bored of it already.
Just know that we missed each other a ridiculous amount and by my second day in Brisbane I knew it would only be a matter of time before I was back on U.S soil. So I made it happen; booking my flight took two hours in the Flight Centre shop because when I told the woman helping me why I was going back she almost fainted with delight and told the whole office. There was much 'aww'ing, tea and bsicuits were suddenly procured from somewhere and they demanded to hear the entire story.
That didn't take too long. What took ages was trying to figure out how to put payment through on an Aussie card machine using a UK debit card. Soon I was on the phone to Lloyds while every member of staff tried to make it work and a forgotten customer sat in the corner quietly suggesting we put it through as an online transaction.
[In the end this was the correct thing to do and when we all turned to thank the tiny Asian man he was gone. I saw him later in STA Travel.]
At this point I feel it appropriate to discuss the other difficulties I had to deal with in Australia and how well I handled it all *cough cough threw tantrums cough cough*.
My debit card didn't work at all. Not in stores, not at the ATMs, despite my bank assuring me it would. The travel card I purchased in England didn't work so I had a bunch of Aussie dollars on it that I couldn't use. So as far as cash goes, everything was a nightmare. I had to borrow $50 from my couchsurfing host, bless her heart. Actually, if it weren't for my hosts being such wonderful people my time in Brisbane would have been decidedly more miserable.
Brisbane as a city is lovely; it's small and there's a few great museums and galleries, the people were nice and the scenery is pretty. But between dashing to the public library computers, hanging around King George's Sqaure to get free Wi-fi and visiting every money exchange place to try and get US Dollars, it meant my days were nearly always half over by the time I got to actual sightseeing.
My hosts managed to get my mind off that though. We went for dinner, brunch, a party at their friend's house and on nights in we'd chat and laugh for hours.
You know, this is a good time to plug Couchsurfing. It is fantastic. You meet locals who really know the area and if they don't have time to show you round themsleves they'll give you great useful tips like how to get around cheaply, where to shop for food, what areas not to bother with, good bars etc. And they aren't trying to sell anything so you don't get any of that hotel BS like "Oh this place is great, yes it's a little pricey but it's worth it" or "Downtown? No i'm not sure which bus you'd take, let me just call you a taxi." Fake smile, fake enthusiasm, take tourists' money, clock out at 6.
None of that with Couchsurfing. All my hosts have been funny, genuine, caring people- usually travellers themselves who know what it's like and are trying to help you out as best they can.
That's it. I'm done. No more Couchsurfing advertising.
Where was I? Ah yes, so Brisbane is a good city, perhaps just a few too many gyms for my liking because it made for an over-abundance of arrogant berks flashing their bodies in almost no clothing, getting protein-enhanced smoothies from Boost Juice Bar and looking down their noses at the people standing in line at the Pie Face Bakery next door.
But that was then and this is now and now I'm in San Fran again. I actually flew into LA which was just as I remembered it from four years ago except the people seemed nicer this time. A man carried my backpack onto a bus for me at 5am (I had to pretend the reason I clutched the bag so tightly when he leaned in to help was because it's a delicate bag, not because I thought he was stealing it).
[Side note: standard bus fare in LA is $1.50. That's 90p! For a one-way ticket anywhere in LA. My bus ride was fifty minutes long and I paid 90p for it. Take notes Cambridge.]
My couchsurf host was great too, he picked me up from the airport and we went straight to the beach for the day. A nice normal beach. Sorry did I say normal? I meant nudist. Which I failed to notice until I had to dodge a giant pair of breasts attached to a tiny seventy-something year old woman. Then I began to realise the inordinate amount of genitalia everywhere. My host turned and asked me if I minded being on a nudist beach. I replied not at all, as long as participation was not mandatory. He laughed and promptly stripped.
The next day was a whirlwind of sorting out how and when to get to San Fran and where I'd stay etc but I did find an hour of spare time to dedicate to watching the huge dudes on Muscle beach. Time well spent.
But again, I deviate. The fact is I did get to SF. I'm there now. And, thanks to John putting in a good word for me, I have recently been employed by the Adelaide and Dakota hostels (owned by the same man) and so far it's been great. It's taking me back to university really; living with lots of people my age, from all walks of life, all tight on money yet all agreeing booze is the best investment. John and I are working on our plans for traveling the U.S while I'm here and to be honest, I could not be happier to be back.
Oh, and the weather is gorgeous too.
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