Bad News

Hi again.

The observant among you may have noticed a little note in Jo's last post about me not diving and feeling a bit unwell. What a big softie; put off by a bit of a rain and a sniffle! Well, not quite, as you'll see.

I had been doing a *lot* of diving, as much as time and work allowed. All jolly good fun as I dived and watched my logbook fill up with the details of lots of underwater excitement.

Worryingly I developed a couple of migraines after some recent dives. The first was a trivial dive (not too deep or long) and I just put it down to the fact that I have from time to time had a migraine or too. No worries, mate.

My second headache was a different kettle of fish though. Really severe visual disturbances and a hammering pain in my head to follow. Very unpleasant. I hadn't really had anything so bad since my teens, when I had used to get headaches like this a fair bit.

Of course, being the good Diving Doctor that I am, I worried about some possibilities that are not immediately apparent to the non-diving medicine specialist.

So, off I went to the cardiologist, and I had a trans-thoracic bubble contrast echocardiogram. This is an ultra-sound scan of the heart; rather like those that pregnant women have, with the added element of having a solution containing small bubbles injected in to a vein at the same time.

And, well, wouldn't you know it? I have a Patent Foramen Ovale - a flap valve in the heart, which normally closes over after birth, has not done so in my case. This means I can get bubbles to cross into my arterial circulation and am therefore at risk of strokes and the bad sorts of decompression illness if I continue to dive.

Bugger.

So no more diving for me, at least until I get home and get it plugged up. I could do it here, but it would cost me $11,000. That's not the sort of small change falling out of my pockets.

So, I’m looking for new hobbies. So far, I have won the first poker tournament that I have ever entered (sadly not for cash prizes), and am looking at learning to sail once the weather clears up. Still a bit miffed, though.

Toodle-pip,
Seán

Catching Up

Well, it's a perennial theme; sorry for being so slack at updating. We are going to give you a massive catch-up load of entries over the next few days. Bear with us.

VW Show/Easter

So then, Easter. We had a few options open, but decided to go for a new and exciting choice. A car show.

Having bought the VW, we thought maybe we should go the whole hog and see what VW obsessives do for Easter weekend. As it turns out, they drive their VW's to a big covered car park and show off. We decided to join the car nuts.

The show was due for Sunday, but a few souls gathered the night before to arrange stuff, drink and watch Herbie films. How could we resist?

Unfortunately for us, on the Saturday evening we stopped for petrol at our local garage. Not too dangerous an undertaking usually, but things went a bit wrong. Our suburb, Randwick, is home to Sydney's big posh racecourse, and Easter was race weekend. Many very pissed people were about on Saturday night, including one individual who managed to reverse his car at high speed into our bus while I was filling up. He then roared off into the night (with me running and screaming blue murder after him) leaving us with a badly dented bumper and severe forecourt rage.

After leaving a report with a policeman who clearly couldn't give a flying fcuk, we headed off. We had a great weekend of wine, pizza, and Herbie. There were lots of lovely people who really liked our bus and asked us questions about her. A lot of seriously beautiful VW's were present, and even Jo thought the whole thing worthwhile.

You can go here and click on '2006 VW Nationals Photos' to see what it was like. Sadly, our beautiful bus wasn't deemed worthy of anything more than being in the background. Philistines! Although the dents may have counted against us.


St. George's Day

23rd April comes around, and no-one remembers a thing. Apart, of course, from the ex-pat desperately clinging on to some bizarre idea of a barely existent cultural heritage. Hurrah for St. George!

We felt that the day should be marked in a suitably heart-felt patriotic manner. We swelled with pride as we took the only true path for the genuine Pom to celebrate such an event. Curry Night!

For those with a love of chillis and the food of the sub-continent, Australia is a cultural desert of epic proportions. A decent curry-house is a difficult to find thing. Bizarrely though, there are a good few specialist Indian shops doing spices and other stuff, so our choice was clear - if we can't go out for a good curry, then we will make it ourselves.

So, armed with a carrier bag or two full of herbs and spices, and a Cyrus Todiwala cook-book, we went to work. Hours later we were tired, but inviting our guests to enjoy home made onion bhajia, Goan prawn samosa, green fish curry, kangaroo kebabs, sag paneer, with pilau rice, roti's and paratha. Parsee-style bread-and-butter pudding for afters. Joy!

The suggested fancy-dress theme had died of death owing to late planning. Shame.

However, thanks to our guests and their generous beer offerings, we went to bed tired but bladdered, and with a fridge still half-full of beer.


Jervis Bay/Close Encounters of a Kangaroo Kind

A big diving weekend beckoned, and we got it at Jervis Bay. This was a Sydney Sub-Aqua Club excursion, and we had booked Aquatic Explorer for a couple of days of fun in the water.

Friday night and a convoy of people motored out of Sydney heading south. We waved as they passed us in the Kombi.

After a lovely Thai meal, we stocked up with beers and wine, and jumped into the inflatable taking us out to our aquatic home for the next two nights. Thanks to our hosts Lyn and Mick, we were made to feel welcome on board their obviously well-organised boat.

We had a fantastic weekend of diving, seeing a huge amount of underwater life, including grey nurse sharks, bull rays, lots of weedy sea dragons and many, many more. Thanks to Claire who was a more than able student, and the first ever person to qualify with me instructing. Yay!

Saturday night was a typical dive boat night, where we all understand it is of the utmost importance to get to bed early, relatively sober and ready for the diving activities early the next day. So, at 1a.m. I decided that as I could no longer see or walk properly it was time for bed. I think no-one noticed, apart from Nick, my late–night drinking buddy, but it’s possible that after the amount of rum he’d knocked back, maybe he didn’t either.

At the end of the weekend we were tired, recovering from hangovers and pleased with the diving we’d done. We unloaded the boat and bid adieu to our hosts. After loading the cars we headed off up the road.

5 km up the road I spotted a kangaroo on the side of the road. I knew that kangaroos were deadly beasts at night time, when they could run unpredictably across roads. Still, this was 3pm, and bright sunshine bathed the trees in a cheery glow.

No-one told the f*****g kangaroo, though, did they?

We approached, and Skippy started looking a bit twitchy. Fearing some ridiculous behaviour on his part I eased off the gas, and cruised to the opposite side of the road (no oncoming traffic green-cross-code-man fans). Skippy didn’t move. Skippy stayed still. Skippy waited until we were almost level. And the bugger hopped right into our path. No chance to move out of the way; we had a Skippy-sized dent in the front panel of the van, and one dead Skippy.

Bit of a downer for the weekend, and another big dent in our bank balance.

But, it’s not all bad, as you’ll see……

Well hello,

It's been a while, but I'm sure you didn't really want to read too much of "Got up, brushed teeth, went to work....". So here's a conglomeration of our recent adventures compressed in such a fashion that it appears we are wild and crazy cats on a
Hell-bound ride to oblivion, baby. Or on holiday, anyway.

A quick mention of work - I am settling in nicely, have spent a couple of weeks on courses and meeting the great and good of the Hyperbaric Medicine world. As this is of little interest to about 99.99999% of the world's population I'll leave it there, I think.

Jo was struggling to find gainful employment as a result of the restrictions of her visa, which is piggy-backed onto mine. If effort in finding work was correlated with the level of work achieved she would be Governor of the Bank of England, Secretary-General of the UN, or some-such. Good news recently, however; finally success and a really good post. The only cloud is the official start date is not until halfway through June :-(

We're fitting in with life in Sydney as best we can - we have hosted a few barbies, and been out to a few dinners and suchlike. Many thanks to the members of Sydney Sub-Aqua Club (hereafter SSAC) who have mainly been our guests and/or hosts on these occasions

Incidentally, a funny thing happened at the dive club which I forgot to mention earlier. If you were never a student at Queen Mary and Westfield College in the early 1990's you may skip to the next paragraph as this will have absolutely no interest to you whatsoever. It just so happens that the SSAC is populated by a goodly number of poms, being a branch of the British Sub-Aqua Club, where most British divers get their training. As I settled into my comfortable bar-room chair, pint in hand, I got chatting to a number of the afore-mentioned poms. I would like to say that one of them immediately seemed strangely familiar, as I believe that's the kind of thing you're supposed to say in these situations, but it wasn't so. I did know that there was something up, though. As the evening progressed I thought maybe I had seen this chap somewhere before, and right at the end a searing flash of recognition occurred, although apparently no-one else saw it. "QMW!" was all I could say to this poor young fellow, who instead of staring dumbfounded at me, immediately recognised our common heritage. And so it came to pass that I met an old acquaintance known to a few of you out there in internet land - Alaric! I kid you not. He was accompanied by Anne, also an alumnus of that great East End institution. Things got stranger when they arrived at a subsequent club meeting with their old friend, Trigger (now a plasterer living in the Isle of Dogs). Well, I never did, etc. etc.

Didn't go to QMW? I told you you should have skipped that last paragraph. Don't blame me if it was incomprehensible.

And so, as ever, onwards. Our next big adventure was on the occasion of our first official holiday. The bunting and tickertape parade to signal our departure from Sydney never materialised, and thousands of environmental activists breathed a sigh of relief.

I have the good fortune to have some family in Melbourne, a short 1000km hop down the coast. Everyone flies and arrives feeling refreshed and ready for action. We decided to drive.

We arose on day one sluggishly, and in no particular state of readiness. Unsurprisingly it took us so long to pack the Kombi, get in provisions, and so on that we finally left Sydney late in the afternoon. Still, we were on holiday and what could possibly go wrong?

Our first brief stop was to have a look at the viewpoint overlooking Wollongong. It was nice and there was a kookaburra. We continued on.

At Kiama, we decided to leave the highway, as we had heard of the famous blowhole. It was ok.

We pressed on and stopped at our first campsite, at Nowra, right on the bank of the Shoalhaven River. We made a roaring fire which failed to burn any of the supplied logs, which had all the flammability of damp asbestos. Not a great barbecue, then.

We woke to sun, clear skies and a flat battery. Somehow it had drained despite our checking all our electrics. Sometimes technology seems to be there just to make you cry. However, a quick jump start and we were away.

Stopping only for morning tea at Milton, we drove on and reached Bateman’s Bay by lunchtime. We left the highway and drove off onto the local roads. Bateman’s is a pretty town, and a popular holiday destination. There's lots of arty and crafty shops, and great beaches.

Our plans centred around Guerrilla Bay, a bay on the rocky coast extending down from Bateman’s to Broulee Island. The bay is shallow, dominated by kelp, but has an interesting drop-off to rocks and sponges, or so our diving guide told us (thanks Nat and John!). It certainly was a pretty place, and we squeezed into our wetsuits and headed off into the deep. The water was cloudy, and a fair bit of surge made things a bit difficult, but we still managed to see a Port Jackson shark, and a Fiddler Ray.

We managed a few more k's down the road, before stopping at Narooma, where we found a great camp site right on the beach. After a quick session on the trampoline we cooked up our tea, which seemed to interest the local possum population no end. A quick call home for Mother's Day and it was bed-time.

Although we had enjoyed our drive down so far, we hadn't made much of a dent in the total distance required to make Melbourne. We pointed south and put pedal to metal (i.e. 0-60 in under 5 mins). All was going smoothly as we motored down the road, the sun shone, and the worries of work and jobs were left behind. The rolling hills and winding roads north of Bega rolled and wound under our steadily advancing wheels, until a large cloud of blue smoke appeared from our exhaust as all power disappeared. Bugger.

After a quick check up of our badly overheating engine we crawled off with sinking hearts, eventually making Bega, the next town. A mechanic looked at our engine, and it was decided that while we didn't have to turn round and go home, we would be stuck for a top speed at 80 or maybe 90kph. That’s 50mph to you, and not very fast when you've got hundreds of k's to your destination. Still, what can you do? Off we went.

We crawled along the Princes Highway, stopping at Davidson Whaling Station on Twofold Bay. We saw kangaroos hopping by the side of the road. We crawled on.

We crossed the border from NSW to Victoria late in the day and crawled on to camp between Point Ricardo and Cape Conran.

We bought fishing rods at Lakes Entrance (still unused, but maybe this weekend), motored through Stratford upon Avon (no, really) and had a look at 90 mile beach. Made camp at Rawson, up in the mountains and in the back of beyond.

Melbourne appeared eventually and we limped into town. We stayed with family, as I have relatives here. First we stayed with Auntie Vera, who is not my Auntie, but actually my Gran's identical twin sister. She regaled us with naughty jokes and more tea than you would have thought it was possible to drink.

Next up was a visit with Pete & Lorraine (Pete being Vera's son, my Dad's cousin and therefore my, er, well, who cares anyway?). We had a great time - wine, penguins, beer, koala's, you name it. Got to meet Donna's hubby Simon and baby Chelsea which was great. I spent a great deal of time under the bonnet poking at the VW's engine, and must thank Pete for his help. Unfortunately this was to no avail, and I am still laughing at Pete's ex-mechanic friend who arrived, cracked a stubby of VB, inclined his head and listened intently to the noise of our clattering machine. "Hmmm, that's rooted, mate" he offered, before wandering off in the direction of the fridge.

Still, the VW is an amazing beast, and we were able to drive (slowly) back to Sydney in 2 days on the highway. Mostly on 3 cylinders.

Bizarrely we were travelling back along said highway, when we saw a mass VW graveyard by the side of the road. We went off to investigate and found the most incredible field full of VW's slowly rusting away - Type I's, II's (including splitties with moss growing on them), notchbacks, squarebacks and more. All locked up and no-one home. A few questions to the locals and we discovered the owner is in Germany and return date unknown.

If that wasn’t enough of a slightly surreal moment we then passed through Holbrook. A rather nondescript rural town in up-country NSW, apart from the fact that it has a submarine parked by the side of the road. And this despite being many hundreds of kilometres from the coast.

After getting back to Sydney we made offerings to Tex-a-Co, the local God of the internal combustion engine, for our safe passage, and hotfooted down to the local VW specialists. $3000 poorer and we have a new engine and a big hole in our pockets.

There's a lot more to tell, but I need a rest. Next episode may possibly include: close encounters of the kangaroo kind; Sea Hunt; Oval ball excitement; VW shows and becoming a car nerd; St George's traditional curry night. How can you wait?

tara,
Seán

Long time no post

Wow, last entry on the 21st. of January. A long time ago.

I'd say sorry for the time I haven't spent updating, but it's maybe more apposite to apologise for the length of this compensatory post. Maybe there's no need to apologise. Like, whatever.

Last time we met, Jo and I were living in a hotel. Or maybe an hotel, if you're posh or grammatically obsessive. It was a lovely hotel and we liked it very much, but it was, without doubt, a hotel. Or an hotel. In no way was it the home we thought would be easy to sort out. After all, we were young (-ish) and free (apart from the constant requirement to fill in forms) and had money (a bit left from SF). Three weeks and a bit later we moved into our new place, after seeing every flat in a 3 mile radius, being gazumped, and finally realizing things just ain't like what they are at home. If travelling broadens the mind, then ours were surely squashed flat by the experience.

Despite my whingeing (I am a Pom, with certain contractual obligations) we have a great flat in a location noticeably different from Hackney. We live on a quiet little street in a little block backed by a Nature Reserve. We awake to the call of lorikeets, minah birds and cockatoos. This would be fine if we weren’t trying to lie-in. At night the air fills with swooping fruit bats.




If you have Google Earth (it's all the rage I understand) I could tell you exactly where we live, if only it showed up properly on this blog. E-mail if interested.


We can walk to the beach in 20 minutes (so that's a 5 minute drive, then) and walk to work in 10.

We have a pool in our block and a barbie (called, somewhat confusingly, Sindy) on the balcony where we throw our shrimps.

We are happy here and invite you to come and stay in our spare room. Unless you're reading this by chance after accidentally coming across this site - you can piss off; and why haven't you got anything better to do?

I have a job. It is not too bad at all.

Jo does not, but is hoping for some forward movement in this regard following many applications and interviews.

A couple of weeks ago we decided that one home is just not enough. It must be our fancy London ways. As a result we drove some five or six hundred miles up to the Gold Coast where a mysterious Oriental gentleman invited us in to sip strange herbal concoctions (or tee, as I believe he called it) and barter for a small piece of mobile real estate. We proceeded fruitfully in our negotiations and I enclose photographic evidence of our new second home.






As for other activities, we have spent our time as best we can. But, apart from drinking wine (hellfire, it's bloody good) we have also filled up the non-drinking hours with:

Football!

Yes, indeed. Strange as it may seem, Sydney FC is our local football team. Like, with feet, and a round ball. We saw them a couple of times, before they qualified for the A-league final. Bizarrely, we went off to buy to tickets for the final and it was sold out. Bloody glory-hunters. They won 1-0 (a certain D. Yorke was man of the match, fact fans).

Shakespeare!

Oh yeah, baby. The bard rocks our world.

Summer's here and outdoor plays are all the rage. We saw "A Midsummer's Night Dream" in the park; Ozzie style. Bottom as an Ocker farmer, if this means anything to you. Safari suits (Egeus), wholesome country girls (Helena), surfing dudes (Lysander) and plaid clad nerds (Demetrius) all playing a part. There was a worrying amount of fake fur, which we won't discuss further.

Diving/snorkelling!

24 degree water, 20+ metres viz. This is either incomprehensible, or makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. I shall say no more. Apart from Woo-Hoo! And, Yay!

Ethnic Art!

We went off to Wollongong for a Tibetan Art festival. Hey, we have a VW camper and hippy stuff is part of the deal. Nice sand mandala's by the Tibetan monks and art from Karma Phuntsok. Good stuff, with possible purchases should we get rich.

So, enough about us.

Thanks for your e-mails and news of events at home. Congratulations to Sophie & Xand; Rachel & Dan; Ant & Kukka. Sorry to miss out on your exciting events. Did I miss anyone? Hope not.

Best wishes, and thanks for listening,
Seán

G'day

Hello there,

Sorry that I've been a bit slow at updating but we've been pretty busy this week.


USA

We had a couple of days in San Francisco after getting back from Las Vegas, which we used to see a few more bits and pieces, and take Kier and Kubi out for a thankyou dinner. We had passed a great looking restaurant down in the buildings where the Sausalito ferry docks, which we booked before going to Las Vegas. We were all, I think, excited about our posh night out.

We went to the Slanted Door, where we were treated to excellent service, great food and the finest wines known to humanity. Heartily recommended if your budget allows.

The day after I enjoyed climbing up to the top of the Twin Peaks and looking out over the Bay, the Pacific, and a fair bit of California. I was wandering down into town, when I looked up to see a couple of funny looking birds circling overhead - Eagles! I think anyway, being no twitcher, but I will have pictures soon.

So I think it only remains to thank our ever-congenial hosts for a wonderful time, and to hope we can return the favour at some time - Cheers!


Sydney

So we made it. Our flight was much better from the States so I cannot honestly continue my ranting at the staff of United; although we did get charged for our bags again.

I'd love to tell you what great sights we've seen and how we're bronzed and toned from our non-stop beach lifestyle, but sadly I cannot.

I've spent much of the last week filling in forms as we sort out medical registration, job stuff, bank accounts, phone contracts and try and find a place to live and a car to drive. And we seem to have walked into the most unseasonable weather in Sydney this year - we had a months worth of rain in the last week!

Despite our travails, we have managed to see a fair bit of the city, which is beautiful and at least warm, if a little damp.

We are staying in Coogee, at a lovely little place called the Dive Hotel. The staff have been lovely to us and we will feel sad to leave when we do finally get some accomodation sorted. It has been great to get up in the morning and, if the weather is not too bad, go off and have a swim and snorkel before breakfast.

Finding a flat has been a bit of a pain; we think we're nearly there, but we're not going to count our chickens yet. We certainly should be able to afford something big enough to have a spare room, so start saving your pennies and come and visit.

The weather has been better yesterday and today, and we finally got some beach time in this afternoon. Great to be in the sun (only a little burnt) and to see the fantastic fish life in Clovelly Bay - near where we hope to live in the not too distant future.

So, thanks for listening, and see you soon!
Sean

(Vauxhall) Viva Las Vegas

And so it came to pass, that Jo & Seán headed off to spend 40 (ok, 3) days and 40 (ok, like, whatever) nights in the desert.

But there's no fasting in Las Vegas, just endless buffet meals and stretchy lycra pants; yeah, baby, yeah!

So there we were, the gambling capital of the world. On a budget, and suffering from a cold. We know how to party.

Luckily for us, our flexibility about days off meant a cheap deal from lastminute.com and a frankly ridiculous room at Caesar's Palace. Not that we complained about our King-size bed, 96" TV (approx.), spa swimming pool/bath etc. etc.

Never been to Vegas? It's difficult to explain what it's all about. It doesn't get much easier to comprehend when you're actually there. But I feel sure it's an experience everyone should try at least once in their life. This was my second.

The last time I was here, I was a young strip of a thing, backpacking around the USA, and guarding every penny as closely as I could. I remember coming in to Vegas on the train, late at night, with the neon sliding suddenly into picture as we turned the last corner around the desert rocks. I walked off the train into 40 degree heat despite it being 10 at night - almost knocked flat as I stepped from the air-conditioned carriage and into downtown Las Vegas. Heady days indeed.

This time didn't match the visceral impact; we left the airport in pleasant temperatures and daylight hours. But, Vegas has changed and still seeks to amaze and confound. It succeeds.

The strip has changed radically and is unrecognisable from 15-or-so years ago. The newest casinos then - Mirage and Excalibur, are dwarfed by the newer generation of Caesar's, Bellagio, Venetian and TI, which are unbelievable in their scale. They may not have much heart, but they are truly breathtaking.

Vegas as a purely gambling resort is long gone, but it still keeps the punters happy while offering a huge number of diversions, from shopping to parachuting, through golf, Hoover Dam tours and having your picture taken with Elvis.

We attempted to see as much as Vegas had to offer in our short time, and enjoyed ridiculous food portions, and as many free shows as we could. Our favourite probably was the water show at Bellagio - hundreds of dancing water jets and pyrotechnics to the sounds of Frank Sinatra.

Our big spend was the Jubilee! show at Bally's. Girls, girls, girls and covered patchily in rhinestones. And feathers. Apparently the costumes were amazing, but I was distracted.

I think I gambled. I am poorer, but only financially.

The old downtown is now the Fremont St. Experience. The heart and soul of the original Vegas is now a covered pedestrian walkway. It still had more soul, but its corporeal body was eviscerated.

So, I've seen Vegas again, and it was different. I was sad about some of the changes, but still found the experience fantastic. If you've always wanted to go, then go. If you're not sure, then go. If you're not interested, then why are you still reading? You know you want to. Go.

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San Francisco II

Hello again,

We're nearing the end of our time in the USA now, so we thought we'd describe some of what we have got up to here, before we submit to the hell of long-haul air travel on a shitty airline.


Downtown

For our first day in SF, we were taken downtown by our hosts Kieron and Kubi. However, shopping requires fuel so we hopped on the bus and had brunch at Bambino's on Cole and Carl (don't I sound authentic?). Seafood is the thing here in SF, so I had a bowl of lovely clams and mussels. Yum. Shame my glass of wine never arrived.

Next we hopped on the MUNI - a kind of combination bus/tram/tube type thing that sped us into the centre of SF and the shops. We strolled around Macy's, Saks 5th Ave and other American shopping institutions. We were a bit disappointed as we expected everything to be really cheap compared to home, but this didn't seem to be the case. Bah.

Rounded off the day with a ride on the F car (a streetcar, not named desire) to Castro. Had a Fat Tire in Harvey's, a bar named after famed gay rights campaigner Harvey Milk .

Rained. Quite a lot.


Golden Gate Park and Haight/Ashbury

Second day of our stay in SF and we were let run free by our minders. We managed a whole bus ride all by ourselves. Got off at Haight/Ashbury but it was too rainy and cold for there to be many old hippies cluttering up the pavement. Small mercies indeed.

I got a bit excited to see Escape from New York Pizza, for me a mythical place which I remember visiting as a 19 year old and having the yet-to-be-seen-anywhere-else Pesto Pizza. Well, they're still there and they still have Pesto Pizza. I advise you to try it if you're there.

Onward we strode and into Golden Gate Park. We visited the touching National AIDS Memorial Grove, which had an understated and peaceful air.

Next up was the de Young Museum, which we accidentally broke into avoiding the entry fee and bag searches. We didn't mean to, they just left the cafe entrance open. There was a great collection of modern and older American Art. Jo liked Georgia O'Keeffe and Dale Chihuly. I liked a painting of a cellist but I can't remember the name of the artist.

We rounded off our visit to the park by looking around the Japanese Tea Garden, where we had a cup of green tea and a fortune cookie.

Jo's Cookie: You are kind-hearted and hospitable, cheerful and well-liked

Seán's Cookie: You are very expressive and positive in words, act and feeling

So, there we are.

Wandered back to Haight where we discovered the delights of the Magnolia Brew-pub. Smashing.

Rained. Quite a lot.



The Presidio/Golden Gate Bridge

More intrepid bus journeys and we found ourselves at the Presidio, an ex-military base turned National Park. A great way to walk down to the bay from the City, with views over the Bay and the Islands, including Alcatraz.

The bottom of the hill found us at the somewhat bizarre and totally fake pseudo-Roman Palace of Fine Art. Then a stroll along the promenade through Crissy Field and we stood at the base of Golden Gate Bridge. It's quite big, you know. Took a load of pictures and will put some up once we have them developed.

Didn't rain.


Coit Tower/Alcatraz

Well, a tourist's work is never done, and off we went again. We tried to tour the towers of SF, but we were stopped at our first attempt. Despite the suggestion of our Lonely Planet, the Trans-America Pyramid doesn't let in visitors. We did get a great spiel from the security fellow, who explained the photographic opportunities of every other tall building in the city, with the aid of laser pens and much enthusiasm. He needed to be in showbiz. The surrounding Chinatown was interesting, anyway.

Instead we struggled up the hill to the Coit Tower, at the top of the Greenwich Steps. Trust the sun to finally put his hat on when we had a mountain to scale. Hrumph. Still, we were rewarded with great views over the Bay which made it worthwhile.

A quick visit to the frankly daft Lombard St and on to the tourist heaven (or hell) that is Fisherman's Wharf. Took the opportunity to have the local specialty, Cracked Dungeness (!) Crab. Very tasty, and enormous.

We spent the evening touring the island of Alcatraz, learning much about the history of "the Rock". We'd booked the more expensive evening tour as recommended by our hosts, and it didn't disappoint - the cell blocks and outlying buildings full of dark shadows, relieved only by the sweeping beam of the lighthouse, while we heard tales of Al Capone and the Bird-man of Alcatraz.

Following the tour, we met up with K'n'K and made for a Chinese Restaurant they liked, which had all the stylistic pretensions of a transport caff. There was an irrelevant menu - the proprietors decided what you were having on the basis of some basic questioning regarding preferences, which you barely understood due to the thickness of the accents. It was the best Chinese I've ever had.

Didn't rain. Mostly sunny, even hot.


Sausalito

Typing fatigue is setting in now, so I'll be brief. Following a minor sartorial hiccup the boys were able to come and join us for a day out. We took a ferry across the Bay to Sausalito, a very pretty village across the bay from the city. Jo bought loads of salt water taffy (not made with salt water, strangely enough), and we watched a man stack stones, which is more impressive than it sounds.

No rain again, we're on a roll.


And that's enough for now. Our next entry will be about the Neon Nirvana that is Las Vegas. See you soon.

Thanks for listening,
Seán