Now that my proverbial 'we' has changed into a literal 'we' it has been much harder to find time to write, especially due to the more devil may care attitude John and I have adopted as our traveling style.
It's easier to write in a hostel common room or a quaint cafe than it is to write at the side of a road. Because when you're holding a sign that says 'North' and sticking your thumb out, in 23 degree heat with the sun beating down, feeling like you'll collapse with heat exhaustion, you're not about to snap your fingers and go "I know what I should do now! Work on my blog!"
Nah. Hitch-hiking is waiting game, a game where your mood slowly deteriorates into despair and a lack of faith in mankind, and if I were to write at that time my blog would contain almost nothing but four letter words and quips about how stupid it is to honk your horn at a hitch-hiker but then not pick them up.
Regardless of that hitch-hiking is actually a pretty cool way to travel. You meet a bunch of diverse, interesting people and find places you would have otherwise never been to. And sometimes waiting isn't so bad. When deliriousness and silliness sets in it can be pretty fun. During our wait to get a ride out of Sun Valley John got two hours of me serenading him with Prince Ali from Disney's Aladdin.
A major issue with hitching though, is time consumption. There are no magic words to say that'll get you a ride, mouthing 'please' or 'abra kadabra' won't cut it. A witty remark or several smiley faces on your sign might help but is no guarantee. The same goes for flashing your jiggly bits, waving like a maniac, smiling your arse off, doing a little dance or just trying to look like you're not a psychopath, serial killer or hippie.
The fact is, short of throwing yourself in front of one, there is no sure-fire way of getting a car to stop for you. Hitching is all about having a positive attitude and believing that at some point, you don't know when, there will be a person who wants to give you a ride. And when that does happen it is very rewarding. Unless they take you somewhere you didn't want to go- which is how we ended up in Lancaster instead of Sacramento (that won't mean much if you don't know California but basically it was a pain in the rear end) and unless they only take you a few miles to a place even harder to hitch out of (that's how we got stuck in Sylmar *pronounciation unknown*).
Anyway the point is that if your schedule is clear for the foreseeable future then hitch-hike away but if you have a time frame e.g. my flight out of LA in June, I suggest hitching a little but every so often packing it in and hopping on a bus.
Which is how we got to San Diego. We found a quirky hostel on Ocean Beach and that evening the whole road was closed for a huge market and live music. We got mildly to very inebriated on a cocktail John made called Caribou Lou which we drank as we wandered around the stalls that were selling clothes, arts and crafts, jewelry and around fifteen different cuisines. In the end the only thing I bought was a slice of pizza the size of - I shit you not- a man's head.
*And God made the Italians, who put tomato sauce, cheese and meat upon flat bread. And God saw that it was good. And God made the Americans, who enlarged this dish to ridiculous proportions. And God saw that it was better.*
I think that is the main good thing to be said about San Diego right now. Sure if you pack up the mini van and take the kids to Sea World and the SD Zoo you'd have a great weekend but as it would cut a lovely wedge of cash out of your pocket the poorer traveler lies on the beautiful beach and drinks their troubles away, and that's just fine. But annoyingly SD doesn't give bus transfers. This is a big issue considering the bus tickets are $2.25-2.50. John and I had a nice long rant concerning the idiocy of not giving a transfer pass (basically in other cities a bus ticket lasts two hours so one can hop on and off as many buses as one likes within that time) because how are stingy travelers supposed to explore a new place without one??
Thereafter at every new city our first encounter with the bus system includes a mini "Well this place better have transfers" conversation.
Seattle, for instance, we concluded is sensible because although the ticket is the same price as SD it comes with a transfer pass. Which made us smile.
In fact, Seattle would make most people smile mainly because everyone is smiley and polite and helpful. On our second bus ride we became acquainted with a political activist who was lovely, so lovely we went to see his rap/poetry reading that evening where- f.y.i- we had some chronic nachos and John rode a seven foot bicycle.
Our couchsurfing host was another example of Seattle goodness, and he let me use his well-stocked kitchen to make a quiche then cake and custard for dessert, all with eggs from his own eight or so chickens. We found time for a Lord of the Rings marathon (those who know me well knew I would get one in somewhere- our host had all three extended editions, what was I supposed to do, ignore them?) and we rounded off the day by playing Kingdom of Hearts on PS3. It was quite a non-traveling kind of day and actually I could completely see myself one day living in Seattle having nice settled days like that. The city is fantastic: it's pretty, it's where Frasier is set, the people are great, there's a relaxed enjoy-life vibe, it's where Frasier is set and in general it seems like an awesome place to live.
Plus it's where Frasier is set.
We hit the weather jackpot there too, 24 degrees and not a cloud in the sky so I donned my flip-flops and metaphorical sunglasses (John accidentally tripped on mine and they broke- surprising since they were a three year old Primark pair) and we enjoyed a whole week of sun up in North Washington state.
That was last week. This week we're in Portland, Oregon. Forecast: rain. I'll let you know.
*Frasier rules*
