I started writing this blog post at 6am today, because travelling has messed with my body clock, and I get up pretty early anyway. I am actually writing this whilst waiting for the sun to come up, so I can go for my first laid-back jog, to get the lay of the land.
I have just been for said jog, and it was absolutely stunning. I jogged along the coast, round our lagoon (yes, you heard correctly, our L A G O O N!) and up to check out Tropicana Del Norte. At one point I literally had goosebumps, as I ran through a palm tree-lined path, looking out as the sun rose over the Pacific, it was that beautiful. I will be going out again tomorrow morning, but with my camera, I promise.
Travelling alone for the first time was a pretty surreal experience. I knew what I was doing, as I travelled to Texas with a mate of mine, without adults, and that had been a very smooth experience. The same was true for this journey. I twiddled my thumbs a lot at airports. I looked at expensive cameras, Ray-Bans and whiskies in the duty free, that I knew I couldn’t afford. Bought a breakfast I could afford, but still felt like I was being mugged all the same. I heard a baby crying over my new noise-cancellation, bass enhanced earphones; and felt more impressed than angry. I watched about 5/6 films on the transatlantic flight. I made limited conversation with the lady next to me on this flight. I met my first two young Californian couples at LAX, who insisted on trying to push me through a massive queue when they learned I had a connection flight. This last one was kind of embarrassing. I truly was the bashful Brit, faced with these loud, but well-meaning, interested and cool Californians. Bless ’em.
However, the most memorable part of my journey had to be on the last stage, during the flight between LAX and Santa Barbara- a short 30 minute flight, where the taxiing to the runway felt longer than the flight itself. The plane was tiny. As I walked up to it form the boarding gate, it did cross my mind whether or not we passengers would have to peddle this tin can plane for take-off. One piece of carry-on luggage had to be strapped into a window seat as there was not enough space to hold it in the overhead compartment. I volunteered to move seats, and as a result, ended up sitting next to W Mitchell. He was sitting in the front row as he had a wheelchair, but I did not know the extent of his injuries. This ex-Marine had not only been in a motorbike accident that left him with 65% burns on his body, he had also lost the ability to walk in a plane accident 4 years later. He is an author, speaker and motivator; who travels around offering advice and encouragement about how to move forward, personally and in a business-sense. But, like I said, I did not know this at the time. What made an impression on me was how friendly he was, talking to me about what I was going to be doing in Santa Barbara, giving me interesting information about the areas we flew past on the way north along the coast towards Santa Barbara, and telling me about his numerous travels around Europe and the UK. He even gave me a lift to the Anacapa Residence Hall from the airport so I wouldn’t have to get a taxi. His hospitality, friendliness and conversation were more than welcome, and I was grateful to have such a pleasant experience for my first extended interaction with anybody on my year abroad. A good start.
(There is an appropriate Stephen King quote that I wanted to add in here, from 11.22.63 but I have left the notebook where I wrote it down back in England. I will try and edit it in at a later date).
I arrived at Anacapa, got my key, and met my room mate for the next couple of days. His name is Calvin, and he’s originally from Hong Kong, but went to high school in Austin, TX. He is coming in as a Freshman and is as psyched, if not more so (but I doubt that), than me. He’s off on his orientation at the moment- the international students who are here for four years have an earlier start than us EAP students (Education Abroad Programme). Mine begins on the 24th of September. I just can’t wait for all those let’s-sit-round-in-a-circle-and-say-our-names-and-an-interesting-fact-about-ourselves. If you missed me pressing the “Sarcasm button” there, here it is in black and white. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to meet new people, interact with my classes, flirt with waitresses etc etc etc, but those activities are…well… lame. Still, I guess they break through the “What shall I say? Shall I speak first?”-type barrier.
Anyway, I unpacked the essentials to see me through the 3 days I’d be spending at the Student Hotel, showered ,and then went for some dinner with Calvin. We plumped (pun intended- read on and you’ll see what I mean) for a pizza restaurant in IV (Isla Vista). It was great, but I made a rookie error with the size of pizza that I ordered. The individual was an 8″ and they had plates on the wall so you could see the size. Looking at the individual size, I was probably making this face :
However, next to the medium it said that it served 2-3 people. Looking at the wall plate, the pizza didn’t look so big. I thought to myself: “Me man. Me eat medium size pizza at very least. If not large. HOO HA HA.” I ordered, bought a “soda” (God I’ve missed unlimited refills, with the small exception of UK Nandos and Pizza Huts, we don’t have that), and sat down, awaiting my BBQ Chicken pizza. I was a fool. It arrived, and there must have been half a bloody chicken on it, and a Cathedral City-sized block worth of cheese on it. It was topped properly, and put many pizza-serving restaurants in the UK to shame with their frugal distribution of toppings. I had fallen into the trap of forgetting just how big portions are stateside. I am woefully ashamed to admit that I only ate half, and took the rest home in a doggy bag (another thing we don’t really do, as I explained to Calvin, who looked at me with bemusement when I told him this). In my memory, this is what the pizza looked like:
This is a slight over-exaggeration, but you get my drift. Lesson learned: take what you thought you could eat in the UK, and either two thirds or half this, and that’s the size meal you can eat in the US.
After the meal, I waddled back with Calvin, and finally at just after 10pm local time, after 26 hours of wakefulness (I can’t sleep on planes) I went to bed. As I mentioned, my body clock isn’t quite right yet, but I managed to sleep till 5.30, which isn’t too far off. The jog was refreshing and beautiful, so I may have to factor in more jogging/cycling along the coast into my fitness regime. Who knows.
Later today I will be meeting at least one of the girls who is also from Warwick University and studying at UCSB, Imogen. We have been in contact over the summer, and she moved into a house on DP (Del Playa, the street closest to the beach, and coincidentally the “Party street”) a while back. I am looking forward to meeting her and her housemates, and being shown around. I’d say I don’t like feeling like a newbie Freshman, but I’d honestly be lying. I’m enjoying marvelling at the gorgeous scenery, amazing campus, whilst trying to compute what my All-American year abroad experience will be like! It’s a good feeling.
So, apart from having my pizza-based masculinity significantly reduced, I have had an excellent journey, and start to my year abroad. Long may it continue.