California dreaming

PINCH me I'm dreaming.
I mean, I must be... Did I really quit my job, house and life in the UK to land a Latin fiancé and a TV career in California?!

In San Diego? An ANCHORMAN in San Diego...?!
I'm sorry but that shit doesn’t happen.
Normally.
I currently find myself in the somewhat enviable position of having realized a dream.
A dream I guess I never dared to dream before.
Now, I'm not going to kiss my own ass and make out like “everything’s amazing, isn’t life great... la dee da...”
(Because everyone knows how the English hate someone who's found success and happiness), but wow... what a ride it’s been.
Today I can finally reveal the full detail of what the hell has been going on with me for the past 10 months.
As you all know I quit everything I’d known in the UK last June after meeting the beautiful Jacky.

I moved to Tijuana without even a hint of a plan, safe in the knowledge that ‘I’ had become ‘we’ (TJ team).

After two months of sitting in the house doing relatively little I dropped an email to the U-T San Diego (neighbouring San Diego’s biggest newspaper) asking if I could pop in to take a look at their set up.

The U-T had, at that time, just launched its own web and US cable television channel and as a result, fully integrated itself with web and TV.

It was something my previous employers at The Herald in Plymouth, had talked about doing but – for one reason or another – had not quite achieved.

So, out of pure curiosity, I popped over the border and visited the U-T.

And the conversation went something like this:

U-T: “So... um... remind me again why you’re here...?”

Me: “Well, see I met this Mexican girl and...”

*cue startled glance and paper shuffling.

U-T: Wait, wait, wait... hey... HEY GUYS... have you heard this? We’ve got a crazy romantic Englishman here... can we get him a job?! Do you want a job?!”

To cut a very long story short I met the U-T’s TV guys who asked if I could pop back the next day for a screen test.

I guess they must have seen something they liked because moments after the test I was offered a position.

And then came the visa application. And seven months of being in limbo.

Annoyingly everyone who has ever got a tourist visa stamp abroad thinks they are experts on immigration law and, at times, my head was spinning with conflicting information.

“You should have done this or that...”, “you should have changed lawyers...” “you don't need that visa you need this one..."
Jeez.
Okay... how about we play a game of f#ck off... and you go first.

So after seven months of providing US Immigration with everything they needed, about a month ago we finally heard that my O-1 visa application had been approved.

For a moment I was afraid that Piers Morgan’s views on US gun laws, and the resulting calls for his deportation from the US, had scuppered any plan for an Englishman ever to be shown the green light.
But thankfully not.

Three weeks ago I flew to Canada to get the visa stamp, which was an unexpected treat in itself. It also afforded itself its own hilarity.

On greeting me when checking into the Toronto hotel the guy on the front desk (who later turned out to be Argentine) said: “Ahhh... you're from Plymouth?”
Me: “Yes.”
“Aha, yes, your team is not very good...”

This man clearly knew too much about Plymouth and it’s football – or is that ‘socher’ team.

Anyway, sorry I digress... after a week in Canada I flew back to TJ, two days later I crossed over to San Diego, and a few days after that I started work officially.

“What the hell have you been doing for nine MONTHS in TJ?!” a lot of people have asked.

Well, I learned a bit of Spanish, became an expert in immigration law, got a bit of a tan, oh... and I got really good at playing Candy Crush.

So fully charged, SUPER excited, and still pinching myself that this is all actually real, I find myself sat in a downtown coffee shop having just completed my first week as a ‘show host’ at U-T TV.

Being in limbo for that length of time wasn’t good for the soul, but it just goes to show that sometimes you’ve got to leave your comfort zone to see what’s possible in life.

I mean, ME... a TV presenter?!

Crazy huh?

So now it’s a case of ‘ding ding’ round two.
I now need to source an apartment, a social security number, a car, a bank account, a phone (or is that ‘cell?’) contract or SIM, a TV, sofa, bed, other home furnishings, oh and of course a kettle... (that’s got to be easier this side of the border right?!)
Oh and I need to retake my driving test (theory and practical) because Californian state law doesn't recognize the international driving permit). Grr.

So I’m a British citizen, engaged to a Mexican girl, who is now living and working in America. Oh, and I flew to Canada to get the visa.

Officials on the Mexican/US border ask a few questions let me tell you...
We’re still working out the details of what exactly my new show will be about for U-T TV and it’s in development.

This week I’ve been finding my feet, explaining to my co-workers what the hell I mean when I’m saying things like I’m ‘cream-crackered’ (i.e. knackered... i.e. tired), and doing news reporting slots on U-T TV’s PrimeTime show.

A few members of the PrimeTime crew on set

In the next blog I’ll bring everyone up to speed with some of the crazy antics this past week has witnessed.

Where the magic happens...

Do you want to check out what The U-T San Diego and U-T TV is all about?

Those people that aren’t in the US can watch U-T TV live online by visiting http://www.utsandiego.com/tv/. Click on the ‘Watch Live’ link and you’re all set.

For now though I’m going to order another latte, breathe a little sigh, sit back in my chair, and carry on (California) dreaming.

New beginnings and the search for the holy kettle

WOW, what a difference a week makes.

No job, no car, no phone, no direct debits, no rain, oh and no kettle (we’ll get to the latter later).

But you know what? I couldn’t be happier. Seriously.

It’s true, sooner or later your possessions start owning you.

So I can’t tell you how incredibly liberating it feels to shed yourself of all the things you’ve become so dependent on.

I’m now living in Mexico. Tijuana, Mexico, to be exact, as a legal alien.

And I have THE most beautiful Latin girlfriend – which is what inspired this move after all.

I’m in that delirious mental place where nothing else matters but the love of another.

Am I dreaming? If I’m not then this is as close to perfection right now as I could ever close my eyes and wish for.

I can’t pretend that it’s easy being an English guy living in a predominantly non-English speaking country.

But it’s a challenge and sink or swim right?

In the space of a few days my Spanish has improved dramatically.

It’s amazing how much you can remember from GCSE Spanish lessons like 20 years (eek!) ago.

And it’s fun just making up your own phrases. I figure that if you can, at the very least, make people smile with your quirky language then you’re half way there.

Jacky is working full-time so I have no choice but to learn to speak Spanish to her mum – who for the record hardly speaks a word of English – and her dad, who only speaks a little.

This is a new beginning for Jacky and I, and we always said that as long as we were together we could make a plan. And that’s all that matters right now.

Anyway kettles, that’s what I really want to talk about today.

Now I’m pretty sure that no-one has ever asked you this question before in your lives but, have you got any freaking idea how difficult it is to buy a ‘kettle’ in Mexico.

I mean seriously?!

I’m actually laughing out-loud writing this.

Re-locating to a different continent you need some home comforts right?

Sure, I packed some Golden Virginia tobacco, menthol filter tips and Trebor extra strong mints.

I also packed my coffee bean grinder because, no matter what day it is in any part of the world, you need a good coffee to start the day right?

So having packed the grinder, and purchased some lovely looking Mexican coffee beans over here, I was all set.

But then I noticed that Jacky’s mum and dad don’t seem to own a kettle. Well, a ‘kettle’ in our sense of the word.

What they have got is a coffee percolator which they use to heat water but it’s not quite the same right?!

So anyway, I said I’d buy a kettle as a sort of mini gift for mi nuevo casa.

No sweat I thought... wrong!

Seriously, it’s turned into an epic pursuit which rivals the search for the holy grail!

There are no Dixons or Currys here. Sure I could order one online but hey, Jacky’s still waiting for a card I posted nine WEEKS ago from the UK.

So we checked out Walmart, the cornerstone of America’s domestic eating arrangements.

You know you can buy a MOTORBIKE and tyres in Walmart in Mexico?! I sh*t you not.

Sadly no kettles. I was walking round and round the aisles trying to explain to Jacky what the hell I was on about, and to no avail.

I’m determined though, so watch this space.

Hey so last night I shared one of my other home comforts with Jacky – a cup of Tetley tea!

You see, the last time I was out here Jacks mentioned she had never had ‘tea con leche’ (tea with milk).

She offered to make me a cup of tea and asked what type I’d prefer.

“Tetley?” I asked.

“Que?” was the reply.

“Er... PG Tips?”

“Que?!”

“... English... Breakfast... tea?!”

Cue another confused look.

We settled on cafe con leche.

So one of the last things I packed before I left the UK was a small packet of Tetley tea bags.

And I’m pleased to say that we have some new Tetley fans. In fact a whole family of Tetley fans.

I’m seriously thinking of becoming a Tetley ambassador over here.

So there you go, this is just a short (well, not really) update on my new life in Mexico.

Oh and for the record mum – I’m eating and sleeping well, I’m not talking to strangers, and I remembered to pack my ‘Ps and Qs’.

On the outside looking in...

If I’m honest, mentally I left England’s fair shores the moment I met Jacky in Mexico in March.

It was only when I returned home after those 11 precious days that I actually realised all the reasons why.

Since then I’ve found myself becoming increasingly infuriated by the UK’s continuous attempts to reach into my pocket.

It’s only really when you’re trying your best to save money that you realise how many people are trying to take it from you.

In the past few weeks I’ve cancelled my phone contract, Sky TV, internet, car insurance etc, settled up, and walked away.

But in the space of a week these ‘providers’ have all been on the phone again asking me to consider a different tariff or package “best suited to my needs”.

“Er, I’m leaving the country – as I explained to one of your three million colleagues – so I don’t need a UK phone, oh and I don’t have a UK home to watch said Sky TV in so...” go figure.

“Do you realise how much you could be saving by blah blah blah...?”

Um, do YOU realise that you’re shortening your life by gassing on so much?!

In law there really should be a thinner line when it comes to what constitutes ‘harassment’.

Oh and the cost of cancelling my car insurance...? £50. And I’m now expecting a letter or email charging me the £4 admin fee for making ‘changes to the policy’.

On reflection we’re all encouraged to ‘shop locally’ and ‘save our high streets’ from commercial decline, but what real incentive is there to actually do so?

The fact is that if something is available for a cheaper price – like online, why would we spend more?

Yes, I’m all for helping to save the local shop – and the local jobs – but I can’t help but feel that we’re all being taken for granted.

I was further reminded of all this profiteering earlier when I popped down to the local Co-op  to grab a few bits.

The young girl behind the till scanned all my groceries and stocked them up in an untidy fashion on the other side of the till.

“Have you got a bag for these?” I asked.

“I’m afraid there’s a charge now for the bags,” was her reply.

Typical.

“Helping to save the earth are you?” I asked half-jokingly.

“Humpf,” she replied.

More like half blatant profiteering trying to pull the wool over the consumers’ eyes, I thought.

Of course Co-op bosses and the like will argue that it ‘helps to cut down on waste’ by tempting people to think twice about using excess bags, but hey I’m guessing that the profits of selling the bags won’t go to Greenpeace.

Even a ‘penny sweet’, by its mere definition, costs more than it actually says on the tin.

I don’t really know what’s happened to this country. I mean, when did we – the consumer – stop arguing the toss?

It seems that we’re now all too happy to go along with what is dictated to us by the people who rely on us to survive for business.

I’m not saying that things will be remarkably different in Mexico. Sure each community has its ups and downs.

All I can say is that somehow, we’ve all become mugs.

Furthermore who would want to tackle the high street with so many young families armed with prams so big they could be used as props in the next Gulliver’s Travels film?

It seems that the recession is inadvertently helping to increase the creaking global population.

I guess people can’t afford to go out and pay for entertain, so instead they stay at home and well, make their own ‘entertainment’ which – nine months later – results in a bigger bill than that Saturday night out would have cost.

Oh and ‘fuel duty’.

There, those two simple words have enough weight to enrage even the most placid of individuals.

When I mentioned to a Mexican friend that it costs the equivalent of $1,860 Mexican Pesos to fill up my small Alfa Romeo he fell about laughing.

“Why?!” he asked. I wish I had the answer other than that of Government , petrol station, and oil company, greed.

Also ever noticed how things seem to cost a great deal more in Cornwall during the summer months?

P.r.o.f.i.t.e.e.r.i.n.g.

“We know they’re coming so why don’t we put up the price of the car park or pasty?” they seem to think.

It seems that these businesses spend the cold winter months snuggled up in their nest eggs thinking of new ways to rip us off.

We spent £5 in February to park the car in Bantham by the beach. There were like three cars alongside ours so the car park owners hardly lucked in. They simply made us think twice about parking there again.

So there you have it.

A friend asked me ‘why’ I was moving to Mexico.

“Why not?!” I replied, and began to list just some of my reasons – not forgetting the smoking hot Latin girl waiting for me.

So by now you’re either thinking ‘lucky git’ for catching a break to make a break from England, or you’re simply wishing me to shut up and quit my bitching.

Ho hum. I promise my next entry will return to a happier note.

I’ll be smiling from ear to ear knowing that I’ve left all the bullsh*t behind.

Hasta luego.