Testing times

MICKEY f*cking Mouse.

Never before have I ever really wanted to physically wipe the annoying smirk off the face of Disney’s favourite character.

Until now.

We’re in Anaheim, the home of Disney, just south of Los Angeles and I’m sat in an expensive hotel contemplating life, while being stared at by a giant cartoon mouse as excitable kids rush by.

But we’re not here to visit Disneyland.

We’re here for Jacky to sit an English exam.

Yes, you try explaining the reason behind this whole situation to your Mexican wife…

“If you want to live with me in England, you have to take an English exam,” is basically how I put it to her.

She understood enough to reply… "you're joking right?!"

Sadly not.

Her English is probably better than mine.

But here we are adhering to the rules in order for us to begin the next stage of our adventure.

In order for us to apply for and get a UK ‘spouse’ visa, Jacks has to demonstrate her understanding and grasp of the English language – at a fairly sizeable cost I might add.

Such has been the amount of drama, paperwork and unknowns we’ve had to deal with in the past two years, I’m seriously thinking that – if my journalistic career goes sideways – I might well open an immigration office of my own.

Given our experience, we’re now pretty much experts on UK/US/Mexico immigration matters.

We’re also pretty broke, and my grey hairs boast grey hairs.

My 01 visa to allow me to accept the anchorman job in San Diego took eight months to compile, apply for, and obtain.

While this UK ‘spouse’ visa application has taken less time and paperwork, it’s been every bit as stressful.

Who’d have known that we had to obtain an actual visa to allow my wife to accompany me to the UK!

Jacks could have accompanied me to the UK at any time. However given the immigration rules, she would have only been allowed to stay for a period of six months (or 180 days) as a ‘tourist’ – despite the fact that we’re legally married.

She then would have had to fly back to Mexico for two weeks, just to enable her to return to the UK for another 180 days.

With this UK ‘spouse’ visa, she can live and work for 2.5 years before she has to apply for the same visa all over again.

After that she can apparently apply for citizenship.

We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

I, like many other people I’m sure, thought that once you got married to a foreign national, your wife would automatically be allowed to accompany you to your country of origin to live and work.

But where’s the sense in that if the Government can make money out of it/you…?

Grr.

The irony is that the UK is undeniably known as being lenient when it comes to its immigration laws.

When you come to do everything the right and proper way, it costs vast sums of money, effort and time.

How times seem to have changed hey?

Jacks and I seem to have officially applied just at the very moment things have become a). more complicated; and b). more costly.

Sorry… I digress.

As mentioned above, one of the main requirements to enable us to get the UK ‘spouse’ visa, is for the applicant to sit and take a bloody English exam.

Literally two days prior to us trying to book an exam in San Diego, the British Government issued an advisory that it had launched an investigation into “fraudulent” activity at the global provider of these exams.

This meant that – while the investigation was under way – all exams at these centres were suspended.

This in turn meant that rather than us being able to take the exam literally a few blocks from our Downtown apartment, we have had to travel to bloody Anaheim in order for Jacks to sit the exam.

The Pearson PTE Acadamic English exam (that’s the one we were told we had to take) is a wonder to behold.

In the days prior to her taking the exam, Jacks was busy studying hour after hour.

“What does this word mean…? And this one????” she’d ask.

“Absolutely no idea. Haven’t got a clue,” was more often my response.

The practice exams use archaic language and situations more akin with life in the 16^th century – as opposed to life in 2014.

An example of part of the English test

Her actual exam consisted of a number of three-minute-long exercises among other tests.

Two of these exercises saw her listening to, and then summarizing, conferences on (… and I’m not making this up!!!) thermo-dynamic laws and civil wars.

Wow.

Yes, this subject matter will come in useful in the coming weeks/months and years I’m sure.

Still there’s a means to an end.

On a visit to Mexico recently Jacky’s dad told me that ever since she was a little girl, she had dreamed of England.

She’d never been to England, or even met an Englishman.

But she loved the idea of it.

Out of fascination and intrigue I’ve just asked her again what she loves about the idea of England.

“The culture, the views, the music, James Bond, the Royal family and The Queen… it is like a fairy tale. It’s like a proper country,” she replied with a smile.

Strangely enough, no mention of the British food either…

Quite how she can list Pierce Brosnan as being the “best” James Bond though is beyond me.

Clearly we need to work on a few things.

UPDATE: Jacky PASSED her exam and the visa application has been sent off.

Fingers crossed folks.

Follow me on Twitter: @tristan_nichols

Wishing on a 'Starr'... and being left disappointed

RINGO STARR...? A bit of a douchebag really...

There, I said it.

I’ll no doubt upset a great many people with this opening statement but hey, everyone’s entitled to their own opinion…

Over the last couple of days since interviewing him I’ve answered a lot of questions from a lot people both in and out of work.

‘How was he?’

‘What was it like interviewing him?’

‘Was he cool?’

And so forth.

If I’m honest I’ve skirted around giving my honest opinion because, I guess, it’s hard to admit that a person you’ve held in such high esteem for much of your life – is actually just that… a bit of a douche.

I love the Beatles. I've always loved the Beatles. In fact, I distinctly remember singing along to the song, ‘Yellow Submarine’ – which Ringo actually originally sang – as a five or six-year-old at primary school.

It was probably the first real song that I truly loved.

And Ringo, the kind of goofy loveable character that he’s always seemed to be, was difficult not to love too.

But after meeting him at a red carpet event in his honor in Hollywood on Monday night, my opinion of him has changed somewhat.

It’s always the risk when you meet someone famous. That fear that whoever it is will never truly live up to the expectation that you imagined they would.

It’s an unfair test really.

Will they make you laugh? Would they be so friendly they’d act like a long-lost friend? Would they invite you for drinks to meet other ‘cool’ famous people?

Sadly these people are nearly always the opposite of what you think.

I’ve met a lot of famous people in my years as a journalist. I’m also lucky to have semi-famous friends.

My friends thankfully have remained so because they aren’t complete douchebags.

Anyhow, I digress.

On Monday night I was reporting on an event organized by multi-Oscar-nominated Hollywood director (Twin Peaks, Wild at Heart, Mulholland Drive), David Lynch, to honor the former Beatle drummer with the ‘Lifetime of Peace and Love Award’.

'Peace & Love' poster

The venue was the El Rey Theater in West Hollywood which looked like it was amazing – several decades ago.

That’s the bizarre thing about Hollywood. It's an illusion. It’s smoke and mirrors.

Through a camera lens it looks amazing. The streets could actually be paved with gold.

But this run-down theater – which was just about to play host to a member of arguably the most famous band the world has ever known – was a few doors up from a Starbucks and an Office Depot.

Anyway, as the hours ticked away towards the event, excitement grew and we took our positions.

Take your place among the stars

Large lettering had been placed on the building’s façade stating what the event was all about and, no sooner had the magical rolled up red carpet appeared, so to did a flurry of photographers and autograph collectors who almost seemed to be hiding down the street, lurking until the opportune moment to pounce.

The El Rey Theater, West Hollywood

One very obvious fan camped out in a nearby doorway with no less than 30 vinyl albums by The Beatles and Ringo himself.

With an hour to go before the concert began the stars began arriving on the red carpet.

Legendary rock drummer Kenny Aronoff was first followed quickly by a couple of up-and-coming artists who no-one seemed to have heard of.

Cue awkward interviews as everyone asked every question under the sun apart from: “Er… and you would be…?”

Um...?

Then came Ben Folds who was actually a really lovely guy and proper talkative.

Ben Folds

And then, the five or six camped-out photographers, quickly became 100+ (or so it seemed).

A blacked out car pulled up behind us and out clambered Ringo together with his wife and former Bond-girl, Barbara Bach.

Cue madness. The intense frenzy of camera flashes quickly turned night into day.

The 'Starr' of the show

After giving an interview to Access Hollywood and another local LA network, Ringo approached my cameraman and I.

We interview Ringo

As a bit of a joke I asked him – surrounded by dozens of cameramen, photographers, celebrities and fans – if he thought ‘Beatlemania’ was returning to the U.S.

I thought it was quite a witty shoe-in given the amount of attention being paid right now to Paul and Ringo performing as part of the Grammys.

"Well… no," he responded. Point blank.

To give him credit he did then answer my question about how honored he felt to be receiving the award, but then ended sarcastically saying "we’ve got a great show… pity you won’t be joining us..."

I felt like showing him my ‘press pass’ for the event, but instead I smiled and let him enjoy his moment.

And then he wandered on to have his photo taken several thousand more times.

My opinion of him changed there and then.

Maybe he’s bored of doing interviews seeing as he’s done more than most in his life.

Maybe he just didn’t like me.

Who knows.

But I guess when you’re the ‘world’s richest drummer’ with a net value of $300million you can say what you want, in whatever way you want, to anyone.

I guess I should be honored or just thankful that he stopped and talked to me.

However the experience left a bad taste in my mouth.

Within seconds my mood – and the general atmosphere on the red carpet – quickly became electric again with eight words muttered by an excitable woman standing behind me.

“Oh, my, GOD… it’s Jim FUCKING Carrey…”

All of a sudden a largely muso-focused event quickly became ‘A’ list.

Jim Carrey

Cue so many more camera flashes that David Lynch thanked the assembled press for the “cool light show” before scurrying inside.

Every the character

Carrey talked abut his love for The Beatles and how he sings his daughter to sleep singing some of the group’s classic hits.

Who’d have known it.

Jim even jokingly told off his publicist who was trying to hurry him along the carpet by saying... "you're always telling me what to do... I like talking!"

Some other familiar faces such as Joe Walsh and Peter Frampton - my absolute favourite on the night (and son and daughter) - then joined the line up before they all flocked inside for the show.

Peter Frampton and son and daughter

So there you have it. Monday night was my first taste of Hollywood.

My first trip to LA, my first time interviewing people on a red carpet, and my first real disappointment interviewing a star.

Of course I’ll keep listening to The Beatles but I’ll try and forget about that bloke at the back playing drums.

Twitter: @tristan_nichols

Life is a roller coaster

IT’S not often that a grown man asks you if you’d like to ‘touch’ his monkey during daylight hours in full view of young families in a steamy bustling street.

It was a first for me. And my reaction was one of disbelief as much disdain.

You see over here in Mexico everyone seems to be making up new ways of making a few pesos.

And this attempt to prise a few pence out of my pocket almost deserved reward – if only for making Jacky and giggle uncontrollably for hours afterwards.

The Mexican wasn’t suggesting anything sordid. In fact, he did actually did want us to ‘touch’ his monkey – a mal-nourished-looking sort of marmoset.

While it might not be unusual to see these kinds of people parade monkeys or parrots around in resorts around the world, here they’ve taken the idea to new levels.

Sure, in Tangiers I was offered to hold a snake for a photograph for a few pence. I think in Tenerife I also held an exotic parrot.

But over here these people have upped their game.

Kittens and puppies and even tiger and leopard cubs are offered to hold and pose with.

Did we take them up on their offer? Hell no, we don’t agree with it.

But you have to admire the efforts of the street men.

I mean, where the hell do you get a leopard cub? eBay?! Walmart?! (They seem to sell everything else bar cafetierres).

Another thing Mexico has an abundance of is dogs.

It seems that you’re not Mexican unless you have at least one. And sadly there are so many strays they nearly outnumber people.

Driving around Tijuana is difficult enough without having to avoid hitting a dog.

And most of them are big enough to cause more damage to your vehicle than to them if you do hit them.

With the intense 24/7 sunshine here (I’ve seen one drop of rain in just over five weeks) the odds are that the bugs are going to be bigger.

And they certainly are.

That ‘thing’ which I posted a picture of a few days ago was nothing I’m told.

We ended up spraying it with enough insecticide to wipe out an entire species. And then it wriggled and writhed around like it was enjoying a cold shower.

The old faithful foot stamp was the only way to deal with it in the end. But you just know it has friends who want to join the party.

Cockroaches are the norm around here. As are spiders and spiders of the 'black widow' variety.

You know, the Mexican (or Spanish) word for spider is ‘arana’.

So when I ask someone what kind of aranas they have over here and they reply “well, tarantulas” you know that that arana is going to be pretty special.

I mean, a ‘tarantula’ is a ‘tarantula’ in any language surely?

So the ‘tarantulas’ over here are not going to be your average money spider are they...?

I am yet to meet one but you’ll know when I do.

They say that in space ‘no-one can hear you scream’, but believe me – the guys on the International Space Station will hear me when I see one.

Last weekend I’m also pretty sure you would have heard the screams of 20 or so thrill-seekers who got stuck on America’s tallest theme park ride.

Jacky and I – together with one of her best friends – visited Six Flags Magic Mountain in Los Angeles which is home to a ludicrous amount of rollercoasters.

One of the newest rides is the ‘Lex Luthor – Drop of Doom’ (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dn5X805NVLY)  which throws people up to a height of 200+ft, pauses, and then drops them down about a thousand times as fast.

It’s the world’s tallest and most vertical drop ride. When people drop they do so at 85mph in five seconds.

We were queuing to go on this new ride, watching people going up and down, when all of a sudden it went up... and then stopped.

Can we come down now please?

A long way down...

Now THAT was the stuff of nightmares. The usual delay before plummeting is about 20 seconds. But these guys were up there for about four minutes.

So stood aghast with feelings of impending doom, what did everyone on the ground do?

They took photographs of course... me included.

Once a journo always a journo right?!

Fortunately the thrill-seekers made it back to the ground in the planned fashion, albeit slightly delayed.

And by that point we were no longer in the queue.

Six Flags makes Alton Towers look like a pink merry-go-round.

Life is a roller coaster

Not the time to drop your keys

Not for the faint-hearted

And Jacky is its biggest fan. I’ve seen excitement on a face before, but Jacky’s expression at the mere mention of the attraction is something else.

When a grown man gets off a ride you’re about to get on and says ‘THAT is f*cked up’, you know you’re in for the ride of your life quite literally.

‘X2’ is its name. And it’s worth googling. You sit in it backwards and you’re thrown around a track upside down and left to right.

You actually feel slightly abused when you get off. Well, at least I did. Jacks was bouncing.

So we got a little excited...

It would appear mad to queue for two hours for a two-minute thrill but it’s worth it each and every time.

So the next time anyone is in the US put it in your itinerary. It might seem strange to pay to be abused but hey isn’t that what council tax in the UK is all about?