My First Day

It's bloody hot here, I'm coming home. (Sorry, I'll need to make clear that I am kidding, might be too early for jokes like that..)

I won't be writing you this often, definitely not everyday but considering the responses I've gotten I feel as though I should give you the run down of my first 48 hours.

I got off the plane, got my luggage together and a few minor things started running through my mind: What time is it? How do I look after getting up before dawn and flying on 3 planes like a chicken with their head cut off for no reason at all? Where will I sleep tonight? And then the answer came to me: Couchsurfing.org. (For those of you who don't know what this entails, it's a website that acts like a facebook page for travelers. You have your own profile just like facebook and travellers can look you up if you live in the city they are travelling to, and they can ask to sleep on your couch. And, vice versa.) And that is how I met John. I got on the site and made an account of my own, and as luck would have it within 10 minutes I was talking to him. John said I could stay at his place and sleep on his couch for the night.

ZING.

Let me just say that within the first ten seconds of meeting John I realized he was harmless. He was less than mildly attractive, had a lazy eye and spent his free time volunteering at the library. He has been on couchsurfing.org for just under 2 years. So, when you look at things objectively I decided in no time at all that whilst I am on different and unfamiliar territory, I am going to sleep in some random single guy's dingy apartment who I met on the internet. Well yes, this is true. But, he showed me around downtown San Diego, I got to sleep on a comfy couch for free and in the morning he made me breakfast. It was at this time that he told me I was the first Canadian he had ever hosted, and I was one of his favourites in all the time he had done this because of my spunk and positive attitude. He also told me that he had just broken up with his girlfriend of 6 months just one week ago, and that if I knew any single attractive young females in their mid twenties that I should tell them to give him a call.

A fancy-free goodbye and I left John's place with all my possessions on my back the next morning, walking down the street and a guy riding a bike looks at my traveler's backpack, sees my touristy face and facade and yells, 'Welcome to my shitty-ass country.' and rides away. Amazing the American pride there is here, charming.

I'm basking in the lovely 30C weather and decide I should go to the beach. But not just any beach, the beach I'm thinking of was ranked number one in all of the United States this year. This beach beat out Hawaii with it's soft sand and dream-like atmosphere, a surfer's tropical paradise. It's called Coronado beach.

I laid on the sand from 2 till 5. I cannot feel. Anything.

I am now sitting in a chair that belongs to another John. This John is in the navy and enjoys gelato ice cream, which he bought for me this evening. I am going to sleep on his couch now, with the other couch surfer he is hosting, Ellie. She is also lovely.

Goodnight.