IT’S
stupid-o-clock. It’s some time between 2am and 2.30am and I can’t sleep.
I
probably would have been able to sleep had I not incorrectly set the air
conditioning/thermostat thing to ‘ludicrous’ heat before settling into bed.
My
dreams began peaceful and placid and slowly progressed to being infinitely
weird and hell-like.
You
know those dreams where you’re parched and desperately trying to find something
to drink? You got it, times infinity.
Air
conditioning is admittedly something I’ve never been able to get my head
around.
I
mean, hailing from England how or why the hell would I know how to operate an
air conditioning unit?
All
I’ve ever done is light gas fires to combat the freezing winters.
Air
conditioning? Pfah.
Where
I come from ‘air conditioning’ is opening or closing a window. Or asking your
flatulent friend to leave the room.
Holidays
in Egypt… that’s what air conditioning is designed for for us Brits.
So
yes, I can’t sleep. My bedroom, and in fact my entire apartment, is currently a
blazing furnace.
I’m
in a state of undress with sweat dripping from my brow onto the keyboard. Ewww…
It’s
warmer in here than it is in the desert on a summer’s day.
I
hear you… ‘open the windows’ and ‘stop whingeing’!
They’re
open. And it’s really warm outside. Even at stupid-o-clock.
San
Diego, it seems, doesn’t do ‘chilly’.
It’s
actually so warm here throughout each and every day, that the city’s parks and
recreational spaces boast an unbelievable amount of tramps – or ‘bums’ as
they’re called here.
They’re
largely harmless. They just sit around sleeping, acting weird occasionally if
anyone offers them a glance.
It’s
like a year-round bum summer camp. And we’re their entertainment.
 |
| Honesty deserves charity |
Anyhow
I digress.
As
I write this I’m also Googling the bloody air-con unit instruction manual in
the hope that I can rest easy tonight without the sleep/sauna detox.
I
might talk the talk and walk the walk but there is no doubt, here in the U.S. I
am a still a stranger in a foreign land – just as much as I was in next-door
Tijuana.
I’m
daily misunderstood, and often confused.
In
the nine weeks that I’ve been here in San Diego I can tell you that Americans
are a fascinating bunch.
Oh
and in case you didn’t know, they are crazily open and honest about health and
religion.
These
are two things that people here love to talk about openly.
These
are two things that we Brits never really talk about when we’re in the UK.
We
have a funny way of avoiding discussions concerning our illnesses, ailments,
and of course religious leanings.
Personally
I’m not really comfortable talking about either – especially with someone I’ve
just met.
“What
do you take?” I was asked recently.
“When?”
“Now?
Nothing, I feel fine”.
Again:
“Seriously... what do you take?”
Me:
“Uh… aspirin or ibuprofen for a headache… a ‘Lemsip’ if I’ve got a cold…?”
“Aha…”
*cue long lingering stare*
“And…?”
*stare continues*
“And…
nothing… I don’t take anything. Nothing to get me through the day, nothing to
help me sleep, nothing.”
“Isn’t
that weird?” I was then asked.
“What
REALITY?”
It’s
only when you go to a supermarket (otherwise known here as a ‘grocery store’)
that you begin to appreciate the national obsession with remedies.
 |
| Drugs - 'aisle' buy that for a dollar! |
Shelves
and aisles of pills and potions to cure everything from headaches and sports
injuries, to sleep deprivation and toothaches. There are pills for things I’ve
never heard of.
And
natural remedies featuring seemingly unnatural-sounding ingredients.
 ' |
| 'D3 5000 I.U.'....? Isn't that a brand of motor oil? |
Sure,
we have pharmacies in England but wow.
I’m
sure there’s actually medication for medication here.
When
you’re seen to be new to town religion is the other big talking point.
Within
seconds of meeting some people they’ll ask you if you go to church and if you
want to go to their church.
I
always consider that I must have sinned during the conversation leading up to that
point and that they’re trying to cleanse my soul as a result.
I
immediately feel uncomfortable and I try to joke my way out of it.
Bad
move.
So
forgive me.
The
actual process of greeting someone here in California (or indeed the U.S.) also
confuses me on a daily occurrence.
Rather
than simply offering a hardy handshake or a pat on the back, people here seem
obsessed with a greeting known as ‘fist-bumping’ – or variations of it.
 |
| Bump day |
 |
| How the pros do it |
It’s
basically the action of putting out your fist for someone else to ‘bump’ with
their own fist.
I’ve
observed plenty of Californians doing it here and I must admit, they look cool.
I
however, do not.
There
are simply too many variations for me to get my head around.
There’s
the actual fist bump. Then there’s the high-five. And there’s some of other
part-handshake part-grip thing.
And
these are just three of the more popular types of greetings.
And
for me, who is new to town and the whole fist-bump thing, I panic when someone puts
out their fist or hand because I don’t know which greeting they’re planning on
using.
It’s
always an awkward moment and, despite the fact that the whole thing is supposed
to look and feel ‘cool’, I don’t. I can almost feel my coolness dripping away
as and when someone puts out their hand for the bump , or slap, or whatever.
I
always hesitate.
Once
or twice I admit, I’ve pretty much just thought ‘bollocks to it’ and shaken the
outstretched bump fist.
Epic
fail.
I
actually freak out that one day I’m going to face-palm someone by accident.
So
I’ve taken to YouTube to try and teach myself some basic rules…
Check
them out: www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZ70wbfRqh0
/ www.youtube.com/watch?v=2SXtWCBI2zg.
Anyhow.
People are strange when you’re a stranger right?
Hey,
I noticed my last blog post was popular in Latvia.
Bizarre,
but very cool. Welcome Latvians!
At
the bottom of this blog is a ‘translate’ icon if anyone wants to read it in a
different language.
I
can’t promise my ramblings will make any more sense but hey.
Thanks
for lending me your eyes.
Want
daily updates on this bizarre life I live in…?
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