Follow the travel diary of Val and Rosney (The Man) as they travel to the UK via Vancouver one way and San Francisco on the return trip. The self-drive ‘innocents abroad’ expedition was planned in celebration of The Man’s 70th birthday to walk in the footsteps of their ancestors.
We took a taxi to Waverly Station and were immediately swamped with the crowds – solitude I have decided is a precious commodity. After a breakfast at the station of a toastie and orange juice, once they announced what platform our train would be leaving from we began the up/down trek to get there (the station is on different levels, which was all very confusing). We scored two seats with big viewing windows and the two seats opposite us stayed empty until Darlington where they were claimed by Judy and Don, two Canadians about our age.
We spent a happy time chatting about our respective countries and we sure learnt a lot regarding the drug problems in Canada as both Judy and Don worked for organisations who treat people with addiction problems. One interesting fact was that the mental health services would no longer treat addicts – instead they were swept under a nearby piece of carpet – if you don’t see them, they ain’t there. All round it was a grand trip, and I have to congratulate the Brits on running a first class train service.
We depart the train at a hectic Kings Cross Station and needed to get to Paddington Station for our connection to Heathrow. After quite a hike we found the Taxi Park and dutifully stood in line unto it was our turn to take a ride. The taxi driver was forthcoming and explained to us what was needed before one could be a London cabby (between 24,000 – 25,000 thousand of them) – the traffic was at near gridlock, so plenty of time for chat. Paddington was equally as crowded, and after what seemed like a long-distance hike a bored looking fellah sold me two one way tickets on the Heathrow Express. Thirty-five pounds (
Paddington was equally as crowded, and after what seemed like a long-distance hike a bored looking fellah sold me two one way tickets on the Heathrow Express. Thirty-five pounds (eeek), for a fifteen-minute trip. The train was near chocka-blocka and we had to search for a seat where we could be together, plus our luggage, once that was achieved it didn’t take long before we were in Heathrow where we immediately became lost looking for a way out of the terminal – what a maze!
Finally found fresh air and sunshine and another cabby took us to our Arora Airport Hotel where we booked in and then went for a pleasant walk outdoors, while watching planes take off from the runways, which were just across the road. I have a note here that everyone seems desperately keen for us to have ‘loved’ our trip to Britain. Our room was great, the food was great and then we settled down for an early pre-flight-night.
We woke at 6am and took a taxi to the airport and easily found where we wanted to be (what a surprise) – some confusion at check-in, and after a small amount of frustration the needed paper ticket was printed out and we were processed to departure. I had been hoping to do some duty-free shopping, but the place was so hot-crowded and expensive that a seat in Virgin Departure Lounge seemed a good idea.
Three hours after take-off I’m suffering from cattle class ‘numb-bum’ and in need of fresh air. There’s definitely less leg room than any other flight, The Man has the aisle seat so he can spread out his legs, but I’m totally squished between two big fellahs, the guys seated on the other side of me are headed to the Gay Festival in Las Vegas, they spend their time arguing what they are going to do once that get there, the rest of time sweet-talking and breaking love-heart-lollies and seeing if they can get them to match – they were very kind and kept fixing my flight entertainment system which seemed to dislike me.
Soon we will be stepping out onto American soil, to see if we can make it through customs. After the stories we had heard about getting into the USA our customs experience was fine, after which we walked out into the hot-world, greeted by a cloudless blue sky. It wasn’t difficult to find our Express Van and after loading up a disabled passenger we were soon out in the freeway and into the intense traffic – being the last ones to be dropped off at our destination we got a tour of the city along the way, and I have to say some of it was not so nice.
Street scenes of homeless, pavement sleepers, and groups gathered in the streets that could be described as worrying. Checked into our hotel at Fisherman’s Wharf (The Tuscan) and went for a walk to explore the local area and was somewhat taken back by the noise/beeping car horns/masses of people/homeless sleeping on the pavements (people stepping over them) this wasn’t what I had imagined… we stayed awake long enough to eat a meal at the hotel, (a special hello to Marvin, the best waiter in the world) had looked at other options but everything was jammed-packed and raucous, also we had been warned about wandering around after dark, then it was an early night – very happy with our room, but no one had told us we had to open a panel etc. to set the air-conditioning (we had assumed it was already set) so we cooked, and we couldn’t work the coffee maker, no electric jug or tea-pot -geeze!
The next day we met up with my brother Bruce, his wife Joan and love-birds Angela and Michael. We wandered the waterfront and went out for a boat trip around the bay encircling Alcatraz, this was good value, much fun and we all enjoyed it – not nice lunching out though, everything was crowded and loud, so we grabbed a sandwich at a very noisy eatery. The crowds and the heat continued to make it difficult to sightsee and soon we were all wilting at the seams. We’d set out around 11am, and come 4.30pm returned to the hotel where we part company with the team – it seemed totally way-out meeting up with Bro in the US-of-A, who would have predicted that when we were kids?
The next day was even hotter, we decided to keep off our feet so went for a hop-on-hop-off bus tour of the city which was fun, especially as our driver Dave was a pure entertainment package in himself.
Amusing incident: we tried to have ‘a talk with locals session’ everywhere we went, so popped down to the bar in the hotel come late afternoon, took a bar seat, and as usual the moment we open our mouths someone wants to know where we’re from – no one had heard of New Zealand and while we are trying to explain things, the barman turns on the TV and some baseball game is starting, everyone turns away and glues their eyes firmly to the TV – we laughed, talk about being insignificant fish in a big pond.
Over the next day we did the rest of the touristy things, hanging off the Cable Car, the Golden Gate Bridge, The CBD, China Town, and walked our feet off, but our hearts were already flying home as we were sick of living out of a suitcase and homesickness was unquestionably seeping in – it was time to shove everything back into our suitcases (no smart packing this time) and head for Kiwi Land.
The shuttle picked us up for the trip to the airport, stopping along the way to pick up other travellers, outside one hotel there was a guy sleeping on the pavement, a passer-by threw some chippies in the gutter, the guy tried to get up but his trousers fell down, so he crawled to the gutter where he reached out a hand and desperately shoved the chippies into his mouth. I had been told many of these street-sleepers were Vietnam Vets. I can only hope like hell I had been misinformed.
The USA put on a special line-up of heavily armed police for us to walk past to access our Air New Zealand flight, obviously, we must’ve been regarded as very important people. It’s a thirteen and a half hour flight from San Francisco to Auckland NZ. We departed late afternoon and were flying cattle-class arriving in Auckland early morning. The Man took the window seat, I was moo-cow in the middle, while a sweetie Asian lady (with a smattering of English) took the aisle seat. It soon was dark, the cabin crew feed, watered us, read us a goodnight story, wished us sweet dreams then tucked us up for sleep-time. The people in front reclined their seats as far as they could go and settled in, but we couldn’t recline our seats due to having a family behind us with young babes. So we were a bit squished. The Man sprawled his body, arranged his head against the window and slumbered on and off. The sweetie Asian lady curled up in her seat, plopped her head on my shoulder and was soon so fast asleep she hardly stirred all night.
For moo-cow in the middle, it was a long, long, long numb-bum night . . .
But being back in New Zealand, just the best… sweet-as-bro!
By Val Bird
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