Winter is coming...

I HAVE thick skin.

At least I do compared to my wife it seems.

I must have.

Do I need to sleep underneath TWO thick winter duvets in the middle of the British summer to fend off the cold??

I do not.

My wife it seems, does.

Over the centuries our British bodies have adjusted to living in the northern part of the world.

So our idea of a 'nice' summer, is not the same as a North American's idea of a 'nice' summer.

For about five minutes in August, when the old Victorian house was so warm that no amount of open windows or doors would shift the heat, Jacks was happy and content.

Even our chili plants were happy (who knew you could REALLY grow chilis here? In Devon??)

This WAS summer.

But this was not actually summer.

This was in fact an anomaly. A climatical mirage if you like.

For the two months gearing up to us moving to the UK I pre-warned her of the "cold, damp, fairly miserable conditions" which she should be prepared for on a "daily" basis - basically "year round".

It became a running joke when we were watching the HBO series 'Game of Thrones'.

When we heard the slogan "winter is coming" I said: "It is... when we move to England".

When we found out we were actually moving back to the 'shire (that's Devonshire – not Hobbit-land) we set about preparing Jacks for nothing she had ever experienced before.

We visited store after store in San Diego trying to find something called a 'coat'.

No luck.

"You need to visit a different state for that... maybe Alaska, or the East coast maybe?" store staff would suggest with a wry smile.

"Why would WE need coats here?!"

Fair one. With a year-round average of 21.5 degrees Celsius in Southern California why would you need a winter coat?

So I prepared my wife for the worst, we jumped on a plane at the tail end of April and what happens…? We experience one of the best summers in years with 'above average' temperatures month after month.

It was so nice and warm and lovely that day after day we were blessed with glorious sunshine.

It got to the stage where we didn't actually need a forecast because everyday seemed to be the same day after day.

Our chili plants re-flowered, every day seemed to be a 'beach day' and people began to smile more (as they only do when its sunny).

Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow

Feeling the heat - another of our very happy chili plants

Chili farmer

But then in the space of what seemed to be just a few hours, it appeared to get darker with the nights drawing in; our chili plants half died; I grabbed my brolly (that’s umbrella for you guys outside the UK); and Christmas decorations, treats and adverts began appearing in local stores and on the TV.

The view at Tesco - never one to miss a trick (Sept 9th)

So now the true shock is about to settle in for my Mexican wife.

As the storm clouds gathered over our Plymouth home, I declared: "This IS England".

Incoming... the view over Plymouth Sound

The view a few minutes later...

"When's it going to be warm and sunny again," I can hear her asking in a few days, if not minutes.

Um... 2015... maybe in May...2015?

Yes, you try telling a Latin girl that that's it for a while. Show's over.

The sun is on holiday for a bit.

In San Diego there's a saying that goes: "May grey, June gloom".

That saying doesn't actually mean it's going to rain.

Californians are just weird.

It means it'll be 23 instead of 25. Oh, and it'll be a tad cloudy.

I'm not sure what the saying is here... "summer (usually) shit, autumn (generally) bleak, winter downright evil?"

For the seasoned Brits these seasons are a piece of cake.

Step one: Pack up the board shorts, 90 per cent of t-shirts, flip flops and sunglasses. Oh, and the factor 30 sun block you didn't use.

Step two: Unpack the hoodies, jeans, down jackets and gloves and scarves.

Simple: Change summer wardrobe for winter wardrobe.
As Oscar Wilde wrote: "Wisdom comes with winters".
It goes with the territory.

If there's one way to test the resilience of a wife and all that "for better or for worse" jazz then it's this.

Batten down the hatches sweetheart, I'll introduce you to a seasonal friend we call 'central heating'.

Update - Oct 13th - 7.15pm.
Jacks' first ever experience of central heating. Remarkable.
I think she'll be sleeping here in the hallway tonight.

That warm fuzzy feeling

Follow me on Twitter: @tristan_nichols

Fright Night

YOU know that horrible moment when you turn up at a party only to realise that you ‘didn’t get the memo’ regarding dress-code?

Yeh… THAT.

That was last night.

Picture the scene… Jacks and I walk past the man bizarrely dressed as Cleopatra in the apartment complex hallway, past the pumpkins and cobwebs laid out on the furniture, and enter the lift (sorry elevator) to head upstairs to the party.

We get to the apartment, I knock on the door, and the hostess answers.

“What are you guys supposed to be…?” she asks as she eyes Jacks and I up and down noting our almost-matching black leather jackets.

“Dead bikers…?!”

There she stands in blonde wig, moustache, vest and jean hot pants (she was Seann William Scott’s character from Old School with her boyfriend made up as Will Ferrell as ‘Frank The Tank’ – complete with dart in his neck).

Awkward…

You see earlier this week the party hostess – who is also one of the U-T TV hosts – asked if Jacks and I wanted to come to a party at her and her boyfriends’ apartment.

“Is it fancy dress?” I remember asking.

“No… it’s not fancy dress at all,” she replied.

Of course, I now realize that ‘fancy dress’ isn’t the ‘fancy dress’ that us Brits know, and refer to.

‘Fancy dress’ in the U.S. refers to ‘fancy’ dress – as in smart wear like a tuxedo.

What I should have asked is it ‘costume?’ – because that’s how they refer to our ‘fancy dress’ here in the great U S of A.

Epic fail.

Just to add to the hilarity, when we woke up yesterday on the morning of the party I suggested we go to a fancy dress shop and grab some fake blood and vampire teeth – but then backtracked thinking that we’d be the “odd ones out”.

“How stupid would we look if we rocked up all dressed up and no-one else was…?” I pondered.

*face palm*

So anyway, there we found ourselves, surrounded by dozens of excited costumed party people.

Talk about odd ones out.

Odd one out...

Doh!

Even another guy from work, who didn't really make an effort, still wore a T-shirt with skulls on just to fit in.

Yep, we’re still just as lost in translation as we ever have been here in San Diego. And I can’t even rely on my wife to help out as she’s just as lost as me in the language.

Oh well, it gives me something to write about.

And it gives you all something to laugh about… albeit at my/our own expense.

Tsk.

Fancy dress or night my wife still looks amazing

If there's one thing more scary than Halloween itself, it's the American fascination with it.

It was a pretty strange sight to be stood in the supermarket aisle next to the Phantom of the Opera, and his witch girlfriend.

Even the Phantom of the Opera has to shop right?

It was another weird moment to be stood outside checking my emails, only to be asked for a light by a mummy fully-dressed head to toe in bandages.

Even pets here can’t escape the madness.

Pet cemetery

Clearly not amused

Sure, as a student I dressed up as a vampire or zombie and went to parties in the UK but here… well, it’s another level.

Jacks and I are gearing up for the army invasion of sweet-toothed trick-or-treaters expected on the 31^st.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of it.

Someone told us last night that after New Year’s Eve, Halloween is the biggest fancy dress, sorry… ‘costume’ night of the year.

And who needs an excuse for a party right?

I just can’t get my head around it just yet.

The premise of Halloween is ghouls and ghosts right? As in ‘All Hallows’ Eve?’

It’ just that Halloween just doesn’t seem scary when you’re living in a place which is so ‘new’.

I joke to people that I have cutlery at home which is older than San Diego.

It seems that Hollywood has made Halloween the big deal it is here.

Some of the weirdo tramps who shout random things at you on the train are the scariest thing about this place.

Downtown’s ‘Haunted Hotel’…? Give me a break. The décor appears to be the scariest thing about it. That, and the price of admission.

Pumpkins are synonymous with the autumn or ‘Fall’ in the U.S.

It seems that you can’t go anywhere at the minute without seeing them.

Pumpkin patch

Outside most stores here there seems to be a stand selling pumpkins or other weird vegetable/fruit thing which looks like it was grown on Mars.

Space fruit?

Yep, your guess is as good as mine...

Starbucks are also serving ‘pumpkin lattes’, which I just can’t bring myself to try.

Are they on sale in the UK too?

Halloween of course falls at the end of October – a time of year when, back at home in the UK, I’ve packed away all the shorts and T-shirts and unpacked the hoodies and jumpers.

However here, even the coolest day yet in San Diego has felt like a pleasant English summer day.

But all I hear from people here is how “cold” it is.

One colleague told me last week she was “so cold” she had the heater on all night.

That’s when the temperature didn’t actually drop below 54 degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Centigrade).

I’m still parading around town wearing shorts and T-shirts like I would in the height of summer in Cornwall.

And there I am passing people wearing full-on North Face coats complete with hats and scarves.

Weird.

You know it takes time to settle into a new place and I guess we’re still finding our feet – even after six months.

Next year you can be sure that we won’t make the same mistake again of not dressing up for Halloween.

We’re planning it now.

Be afraid… be very… afraid.

@tristan_nichols

Don't wanna be an American idiot

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.

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Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/tristan_nichols