Snapshot of the Week(s): Drivin’ USA

We haven’t written anything for a good while now. We haven’t just been lazy bums, we have been stupid busy since we left the Bahamas just over two weeks ago. We’ve been to seven states, three National Parks, driven 2316 miles (I counted) and had nowhere near enough sleep. You can see our Lego selves in our first stop, New Orleans, in the famous Jackson Square.

It all started back in Florida, where we spent our first night in the US of A sleeping on a bench in Fort Lauderdale airport. As far as airport sleeps go it wasn’t actually too bad, but it was hardly a glamorous introduction to our US adventure. From there we took an early flight to New Orleans where our tour could start in earnest.

NOLA was everything we hoped it would be. It’s very difficult to portray the feeling in the city without resorting to cliché, but the best word I can think of for the place is that it’s fun. The famous French Quarter positively buzzes with live music; jazz and blues and rock ‘n’ roll, street performers and artists decorate every corner and smells from the incredible Cajun and Creole cookery are almost as intoxicating as the liberal amounts of alcohol flowing day and night down Bourbon Street. We spent pretty much all our days wandering the streets, dodging the baking heat as much as possible and avoiding the occasional torrential downpour. We took a cookery class, did a graveyard tour and did a late night bar crawl, taking in the full range of opportunities the Big Easy has to offer. We were sad to leave when we ran out of time there, but we had a Steve to pick up in Vegas.

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St Louis Cathedral.
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Bourbon Street.
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A rather revolting “hand grenade.”

When we arrived in Vegas things got a little interesting.  Steve arrived, quite a bit little later than planned but otherwise in good health, but his bag (which included some clothes of ours also) had not made the connection. Luckily the nice chap at JetBlue customer services assured Steve that his bag would be on its way to our accommodation the next day. Reassured, but no less tired, we made the 3-hour journey to our lodge in Utah which neighboured Bryce National Park, arriving at a solid 4am. Although we had kept the lodge posted on the delay, it seems sleep had overcame them, resulting in some very ungainly banging and shouting on our parts. We managed to wake the poor owners and get a solid 3 hours’ sleep. The most frustrating part? Mark and I had booked the more expensive flight, so we arrived at a similar time to Steve and with plenty of wiggle room to get to the lodge at a reasonable hour. OH THE IRONY.

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Wow.

The next day revealed two things to us – 1) even with minimal sleep Bryce is an absolutely stunning destination, and we had a cracking day. 2) Steve’s bag wouldn’t be joining us in Utah that day. Or the next day. Perhaps the day after, when we’d already left though. 3 further hours on the phone later, and we were reassured that the bag would be with us in Vegas, by the following day, at 5pm. Definitely. Totally. 100%.

We spent the next day at Zion National Park, which though very busy – cleverly I arranged for us to visit on a Saturday in the Kids’ holidays – was absolutely amazing. Sadly, we had to leave fairly early to pick up Steve’s bag.

You can guess the rest I bet. Long story short: We didn’t get the bag back until two cities later, in San Francisco. On the plus side, Steve got some sick new threads at JetBlue’s expense.

As we’d dithered at the airport for so long, and then went shopping to replace our party clothes (Vegas is notoriously picky about these things) we arrived at the Strip after midnight, and proceeded to spent the next 7 hours, not clubbing or gambling (not quite budget traveller pastimes, after all), but drinking tinnies, people watching and climbing into fountains. It was a blast.

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The infamous strip.
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A sunrise dip.

One hungover day visiting the Hoover Dam, followed by another delightful 3am wake-up for the 5 hour drive to San Diego. San Diego was a combination of marine life watching and eating Mexican food, but sadly we didn’t have time to check out the city itself. I think the lack of sleep and the sheer amount of driving had caught up with us a little. This in mind, we awoke the next day at 4am to drive the 540 miles up the coast to San Francisco. We were supposed to be going to see a baseball game in the evening but the start time had changed to lunchtime, so we stood no chance of making it. Instead we drove up the Pacific Coast Highway and made a day of it. We drove through Los Angeles at rush hour, enjoying (not the right word) its notorious traffic, then cruised up the coast through Malibu to Santa Barbara where we stopped for an insane breakfast. From there it was another few hundred miles up the beautiful coast to San Fran, where we were staying with our friend Josh who we met down in Patagonia back in March. The drive itself was one hell of an experience, something of a bucket list moment for me, but I was glad to arrive in the city, over 12 hours after we set off. We watched Josh play softball (he won, convincingly), had a few beers and some incredibly spicy hot wings and passed out, somewhat exhausted.

As well as doing all the touristy stuff (a hell of a lot of Golden Gate Bridge photos), Sadie had the delights of a dentist appointment to deal with. As South America does not have a reputation for particularly safe dentistry, she had held off until she could see a clinician without the risk of infection/death. As much as nobody wants to go to the dentist when visiting a city, it was a huge relief to get rid of the pain that had been bothering her on and off since Christmas. Once the (hilarious) anaesthetic had worn off, we could still spend a productive afternoon in the city, capped off by an evening watching a pod of passing humpback whales off the shore.

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See? Bridge, innit.

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From San Fran, we had a lovely jaunt to Yosemite planned, which (of course) meant another ridiculously early start. Yosemite is only about 200 miles from San Fran but the roads aren’t great, meaning that it takes a while to get there. It is an incredibly beautiful place but it is SO busy, especially on weekends. Even with this in mind, it was one of the most beautiful places we have ever been to.

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After an incredibly sweaty evening in a nearby lodge, complete with a tarantula spotting, we were more than happy to return to Josh’s beautiful San Francisco flat (sans Josh sadly, as he had departed for Italia, until our reunion in Nashville in a few weeks). Words cannot really describe how grateful we are, not only to have been able to stay with Josh, but to have had the opportunity to kinda play-act living in the city for the last week. We’ve spent a lot of time people watching, drinking in parks and wandering around beautiful hipster neighbourhoods. Tie dye and flowers are everywhere, being a foodie is seemingly obligatory and colourful bongs line shop windows. Honestly, the only downside to SF is the price tag – I can only imagine what hippies of the past would think of an eight of marijuana selling for $60.

Originally when we first planned our great USA jaunt, we both said San Francisco was somewhere we would happily have stayed for a couple of weeks, but after a quick peek at the accommodation options (£70pp for a crappy dorm bed!) we quickly realised this was not within our budget. To have met Josh back in Chile, and has the opportunity to stay with him was beyond lucky, and as a result this city has rocketed to the top of both our lists (and Steve’s). So THANK YOU so very much Josh, for showing us your beautiful home and current hometown. We’ve both mused about returning for a workaway stint, so I’m afraid you haven’t seen the last of us yet (sorry).

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Next stop avec Steven: Vancouver. Poutine, maple cinnamon whisky shots, the infamous Grouse Grind… it’s gonna be sweet.

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Snapshot of the Week: Bahama Dreamin’

The last week has, without a shadow of a doubt, been the easiest week of our 8 months or so on the road. But for the generosity of Sadie’s Aunt Barbara, it wouldn’t have been possible. As it stands, we have spent 7 nights on Long Island, what Wikipedia calls “the most picturesque island in the Bahamas,” (quite an accolade), and we are not going to disagree with them.

Getting to Long Island was an interesting experience. After an overnight stay in Nassau airport, we walked to our gate to see what was essentially a large tin can with wings. There’s no way we’re on that, we thought. We thought wrong. The plane was so small that passengers were arranged according to weight to keep the balance right. There was no separate cockpit so you could see the pilots from your seat – apparently hijacking isn’t really a thing in the Caribbean. Still, it was probably the most interesting flight we’ve ever been on, and arriving at Deadman’s Cay (how cool is that name?) airport was definitely the least stressful airport experience we’ve had, as the terminal is the size of a petrol station all-night shop, and someone brings you your bag on a hand-pulled trailer. They even have a picnic table next to the runway, to have a cheeky beer while you wait. We knew then that it was going to be good.

Our days here have consisted of being chauffeured around the island by our hosts, seeing stunning beach after stunning beach, napping and drinking rum. I am struggling to think of a better way to pass a week. The beaches come straight from a holiday brochure – all white sand, water so blue that it looks Photoshopped, sunny skies and palm trees at a rakish angle like they too are getting into the relaxed, Caribbean spirit. The best thing about them, though, is that they are completely deserted. These beaches in other parts of the world would be teeming with tourists, touters and tat-merchants. Here you have them entirely to yourself. It is bliss.

 

We paddled with piggies, strolled down beaches and enjoyed Long Island’s regatta and my aunt’s adorable little boat. We also dived into the world’s deepest blue hole, which was more than a little heart-pounding.

Unless you have a fat wallet, Long Island isn’t somewhere you’d generally visit. Of the total population on the 80-mile-long island (less than 3000 people) we could count the tourists we’ve seen on two hands. Bahamas isn’t exactly a cheap destination to begin with, but Long Island and the Family Islands (i.e. the quieter, smaller islands) are pretty much reserved for the honeymooners and the wealthy Americans (God bless that almighty dollar). Combined with my aunt’s beautiful home, brilliant tour-guiding skills and endless supply of liquor, we feel incredibly lucky to be here.

Now, we will be the first to correct anyone who says our daily life is just like “a holiday”. It’s not. Although I happily spam social media with gorgeous photos, and feel incredibly lucky to see the amazing things we have, for obvious reasons we omit the bad stuff.

The days we spent willing the electricity, the water or the Wi-Fi back on. The overnight stays in airports, bus stations, and quite memorably, the street. The 24-hour bus rides or the days locked away in a hostel room with catastrophic diarrhoea.  The hours spent planning, working, or generally doing chores. While some days ARE absolutely holidays, a lot have just become…well…life. We don’t expect sympathy – we chose this, absolutely love it, and would much rather be here than working – but it isn’t all fun and games all of the time.

(Note: The next time you see a boastful, beautiful insta-traveller, showing of her perfect manicure and beautiful villa, just remember that 90% travellers get the shits. It makes me feel better anyway.)

HOWEVER, this week, we will eat a massive slice of humble pie and admit that this has been one hell of a holiday! Backpacking is hard? Pfffft.*

It’s time to move on tomorrow and return to budget travelling. We have an overnight stay in Fort Lauderdale airport (see?) and then on to New Orleans. I think it’s safe to say we’re both crazy excited to start our USA tour, as well as a little nervous at what this country will do to our poor, battered bank balance. We’ve got gumbo, voodoo, jazz and ghost stories to sample, then it’s onto the Sin City and its surrounding natural beauty. Next time you hear from us we’ll be in Nevada, shooting dice and with money burning holes in our pockets*, as well as with our good friend Steve in tow. It’s going to be a blast.

 

* We would also add how wonderful it has been, just to exist in a normal, family home for a little while. Sitting on the sofa, making dinner in a proper kitchen and going to the same bed every night has been honestly, pretty glorious.
**We will not be doing this. Our budget does not cover gambling, despite Mark’s assurances to the contrary.