I'm conscious the blog is in danger of turning into a collection of my saying 'wow, look at that', such is the frequency with which I witness beautiful things. I'll try to counter this by adding insightful comment and conjecture about the things I see and do. Like how I've bought myself a big piece of card and a Sharpie and have made my very own 'Where Have I Been' map of the USA, which leans against the window inside the Purple Nimbus [insight]. Here is a picture of it right now (clicky). I drew it freehand - I'm very proud of it, in a totally unbecoming way as ever [conjecture]. And yes, the nights are long. So very long.
Anyway, back to the 'wow, look at that'...
I spent my couple of nights in Big Sur at a campsite housed amongst the (well-protected) roots of scores of coastal redwoods, and spent the day in-between on a hard-to-find little beach, the shores of which were lined with huge rock outcrops.
I wonder if this awe-struck sensation I keep getting is how it feels to look upon things with a child's virgin eyes. Not literally, obviously, because that would involve stealing the eyes of a child. Which is frowned upon. Moreover, it could involve stealing the eyes of a virginal child, depending on how you interpreted that sentence a few back. That, too, is frowned upon, by the way.
You know what, this conjecture thing is a doddle!
After Big Sur, I made my way to San Francisco, and three days in the city, staying in one of the hostels there.
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Competition Interlude!
True Fact! I'm a hit in Paraguay! Or, rather, I got a hit in Paraguay. The blog did, that is. If you feel you could be my Paraguayan reader, leave a comment and I'll share with you a never-before-seen and never-to-be-seen-again photo of loads of tourists taking a picture of a deer that looks like a wallaby. It's a once-in-a-lifetime chance!
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The first person I met in San Francisco was one of my roommates, Stan, a 63 year-old gent, originally from California, but well-travelled. Little did I know, upon saying hello, what this chance meeting (I was minutes from leaving the hostel for the evening when Stan arrived) would lead to.
Within an hour of our introduction I was at the Californian art world's equivalent of The X Factor, being furnished with free Bombay Sapphire cocktails and hob-nobbing with the great and the good of the scene. Stan, you see, was one of the thirty-odd artists in this stage of the competition. And I was his special guest.
I know, you're all questioning my good fortune, aren't you. How is it I, already on the trip of a lifetime, find myself whisked away into the evening by a stranger. Why shouldn't I get taken out on the town within minutes of arriving in a new city? Well, there ain't nothing wrong with helping out a gentleman who, you know, needs a hand getting ready. So I helped him to...get ready...and my reward was spending the night as his guest at an exclusive art opening in one of America's greatest cities.
Stan spent a proportion of the night approaching the prettiest women in the room (they weren't in short supply) and sketching their portrait. It was as if he were somehow totally without tension. He acquired quite a few phone numbers using this technique - I was mightily impressed. In fact, if you click here you can see one of his sketches. I think you'll agree, his subject is quite the treat!
So, my first night in San Francisco was a total surprise, a spectacular whirlwind with Stan. Totally innocent, totally harmless...
/...to be continued
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