As a little precurser to this blog I think it be wise to let you know that whatever you read (at least what I have wrote) has come from a point in this journey as rare as any point in my past. Be that at school through uni, never has pen met paper with any voluntary cerebral involvement that has ever got me anywhere. Ever.
It´s a Friday as we drive up to San Fran’ (the truth is Jen’s the only one contractually allowed to drive and realistically a far safer bet) which gives me a chance to enter the thinking section of my upper anatomy more than Jen who requires most of her upper anatomy to look at the road. Ocassionally I feed Jen a banana like you would in the zoo, just without the bars separating the sapiens, it’s a scary proposition for any amateur zoo keeper. (Jen I’m positive, will wish to point out that being stuck in a tent with flatulence from an unknown direction in the dark is far more frightening. Wimp).
Our diet (which I feel you should know) has continued to rely heavily like anyone of no actual abode, on corn on the cob. We’ve decided to skip the ten for $2 roadside offer for market affair after realizing there’s more to hunger (not much more tho) than cutting out the mouse chewed ends before eating. We’ve continued to party hard each night till our bedtime which has been just past 8 on most nights. The alcohol we’ve used to fuel these rock & roll evenings has come mainly from boxes and the wine supply also doubles up for a pillow. The Americans really cannot do ale. Our camp spots have been quite sedatory places. Either-way, America does not do tents, so we look either trend setters or just pretty stupid next to some ridiculously oversized RV’s here.
On a good day here, there’s not a great deal to worry about (finding out how far you can push a pair of pants is presently as hard as I’ve had to think (five days – we’re camping and no bears have bothered us). Which leaves plenty of vacant space for, like, whatever, dude. Although only a fat kid in an observatories said ‘dude’ so far. On a bad day, and we haven’t been blessed with luck of late, sometimes the whatever’s drift rapidly into pangs of guilt about not working. We’re fortunate to have the opportunities to do what we do, but passing a homeless person trying to make a couple of buck’s flogging a sock on a string, I can’t help but feel like we’re in a different world and I guess we are. We’ve passed by many people down on their own luck in life that we’ve seen on all the benches and piers throughout the beautiful state’s. It’s hard not to sit on a bench in San Fran without sitting on a homeless person at the same time.
On a different note, it seems that wherever we are, we’re actually in China. ‘In China’ I’ve suffered camera dysfunction in all the public places. Nothings made me pop the fella back in the bag than 20 Chinese tourists sucking the life out of wherever. I’m sure they all must have limitless friends asking for a separate but identically composed picture of the same thing. One picture will do just does not do. Anyway, I’m sure it’ll be the Brit’s in the next spot, or the Italians with their man purses.
California’s been the continuum from New England in that pretty much everyone’s been totally cool that we’ve met. I haven’t quite figured what the best reply to everyone’s opening gambit of ‘How are yer’ is, or if it’s rhetorical or wether they actually care to know, as most people seemed to have passed by when I actually reply to their shadow.
Sugar and salt are used interchangeably and non sparingly here but no-one seems to mind, or if they do its evident its a little late. Our ride for this trip comes courtesy of Ford Fiesta and its fuel tank the size of a newts bladder, it’s served us fairly well for carrying our life’s worth all over California. Neither of us have been mugged yet as the smells put most people off apart from one tramp today who was definitely drunk and was one minute behind the world.
Oh yeah, the title, America, f*ck Yeah! We thought was just the most apt tag and link to the film Team America, for our multiple stays at different Kamp of America’s or KOA’s. KOA is actually but not advertised, short for ‘Kids On Acid’ as everyone has the same ridiculous can do attitude that I’ve loved about America and probably comes from being on acid. You want some salt with that?