Big Trip

Normality has been restored.
Damn.
It's just coming up to three months since we got back. That means we've been back about as long as we were away. Somehow it seems longer. I liked not being normal. There's so much more to think about in every day life. So much more uncertainty. When we were away, things were all mapped out for us. We had an itinerary telling us where to be on which date. There was still a little scope for change - we didn't have a complete plan of activities for each place, so we had some freedom to choose what we did each day. Just enough options to make us feel we were still in control.
Now, some days, anyway, it's hard to know who's in control: us, or life. Of course I know exactly what a life coach would say at this point, so we'll be making darned sure life doesn't get the upper hand... Bring it on.
(There you go, Lisa. Will that do?)

Another lousy overnight flight this time. This could well be the last time we ever fly long-haul economy. Nobody slept particularly well. Erin wouldn't go to sleep until about an hour and a half out of Heathrow, and I just couldn't get to sleep. I was too hot and irritable. I watched Bill Murray in Broken Flowers, which was a good film, but half the dialogue was inaudible (technical fault, I think). I was so desperate later in the flight that I watched The Wedding Crashers, which was probably improved by the lack of some dialogue, though not to the extent of the previous film. Sarah's preferred option, Pride & Prejudice, just wasn't working at all.
Anyway, we landed on a perfect winter afternoon. Crisp, clear, cold, with perfect blue sky. Just the sort of day you'd want to come back to (in winter, anyway). Arriving back at the house was very odd. The outside looked familiar, but the inside seemed small and dark, and the kitchen didn't look like ours at all. I'm sure we'll get used to it. It seems strange to think that we won't be spending our days all together now, and that we will have to deal with the same things day after day, rather than each day bringing new and exciting things, but perhaps that's a problem of outlook rather than reality. We're all looking forward to sleeping in our own beds tonight, though, I can tell you.

We caught a bus up to the Exploratorium this morning. Mind you, when we got onto the bus the driver told us we couldn't expect to get onto a bus wielding a $20 bill for a $4 fare, which didn't endear him to us. Fortunately we had change. Is it me, or does money in the USA seem incredibly primitive, with no colour-coded notes, $1 notes rather than coins, and no coin larger than 25c? Anyway.
The Exploratorium was great, with more interactive science experiments than you can possibly get through in only a few hours, possible more than can be covered in a day. We spent our time dashing from geysers to optical illusions via friction and magnetism and all sorts of other things. Fascinating. My only problem with things like this is that as a dad, I don't get long enough to play with the experiments!
We emerged into rain and mist so thick that you couldn't even see the Golden Gate Bridge from Golden Gate Park. Then it was back to the hotel to pick up our bags and off to the airport for the journey home.

We walked up from the hotel to the top of Lombard Street, supposedly the crookedest street in the world. I had to push Erin up some of the hills, because she complained that they were too steep. Watched a few cars negotiating the umpteen zig-zags, and then walked down ourselves (pedestrians just get straight steps down, though). We kept going all the way up to Telegraph Hill and Coit Tower to look at the views of the city, and the murals around the base of the tower, painted in the depression of the 30s as a city work creation project for local artists. Somehow the views weren't that impressive, and not only because of the safety glass in the windows. It's just not that photogenic a city from here. It's much better seen from the ground, where the impact of the hills, and the architecture are more visible. The murals were much better, though there ought to be more information about them and what they 're depicting than the one- or two-sentence plaques in front of each section. I believe there are all sorts of cute little details like artists depicting themselves as characters in the paintings, but there was nothing about that at all. You probably have to buy a guide book for that sort of information, it occurs to me now.
The lift to the top was a nice old thing, though, operated by an attendant, who just had to remember to stop it at the right points.
Caught a cable car downtown (ooh, I've come over all Petula Clark) again, and mooched.
At dinner we realised that this is the last night of our trip, and we'll be home very soon, which is very odd after so long away.

More like Escape to Alcatraz. Breakfasted at Lori's again, but slightly earlier, and then caught a boat out to The Rock, as it's known. I've been there before, but it's still a pretty intimidating place. Mind you, it's a prison, so I suppose it should be intimidating, and I don't have any experience of other prisons to compare it with, I'm happy to say. It seems more desolate because a lot of the outbuildings are just ruins now, but I don't imagine it was a great place to stay. Only the really bad guys went to Alcatraz, and escape doesn't really look like an option. Just looking at the water around the island, you can see the currents and eddies, and you get the distinct feeling that if you even go near the edge, they will suck you under and dump you unceremoniously, and probably undiscovered, a long way away. It makes me shiver just to think about it.
Anyway, the cell block is still intact, so you can go & see where these nasty men were kept, which is a salutory experience, and well worth it in my opinion. Max & Erin beware :-)
When we got back to the hotel we made the mistake of trying to get a cup of tea. For those of you that have read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, I felt a bit like Arthur Dent. There was no tea in our room, only coffee. There was no room service until 6pm, and it was only 4.30. The restaurant and bar didn't open until 5. Fortunately for us, one of the bar staff took pity on me as he was opening up the bar, and almost totally redeemed the hotel by giving us the drinks on the house. I probably should have tipped him, but I couldn't help feeling that it was no more than I deserved, and don't get me started on the culture of tipping...

We all slept well, and didn't wake up until 10.30 today. Caught a cable car downtown for brunch (well, lunch by the time we got there) at Lori's Diner, a superb 50s-style diner that I've been to once or twice before. Superb American breakfast. Just what we needed. We did a bit of clothes shopping, as we needed one or two things with long sleeves and legs to cope with the slight difference in temperature between here & Fiji. After a moochy afternoon, we ended up laughing at the antics of the seals on the pontoons by Pier 39. There are so many of them, and they just flollop around, barking at each other, occasionally indulging in a pointless dispute which ends up with one being pushed off into the water and trying to find a space on another pontoon, which results in another dispute which ends up...

Our last day in Fiji :-( Erin had her hair braided today, while Max & I just lazed in the hammock outside the bure, reading. At lunch, Max complained of a painful ear, which was probably swimmer's ear, due to all the time he's spent in the pool. I took him down to see the doctor in the nearest town, Sigatoka, and she confirmed it. She pronounced him fit to fly, and we managed to get antibiotics and drops in the pharmacy. I love places like Sigatoka. It was all abuzz with people buying fruit & veg in the market, chatting, generally going about their everyday business, and the local girls on their way home from school in gaggles, chatting & laughing. They seemed almost to make even the colourful street scenes fade slightly because they were wearing magenta uniforms which seemed almost iridescent in the afternoon sun.
After an early dinner and extensive farewells from the staff we headed to the airport. The flight to Los Angeles was an incredible ordeal. I can honestly say I've never enjoyed a flight less. Where most are smooth with periods of turbulence, this was bumpy all the way but for a few brief calm spells. In fact it was so bumpy I swear I could feel the aircraft (a 747)flexing. We didn't sleep much. On top of that, about three hours out of Los Angeles, Max started to vomit. He kept it up all the way through the flight, and through the airport when we landed, poor lad. Finally, at the departure gate, waiting for our connection to San Francisco, he lay down on the floor & slept. He must have been exhausted. He was sick once more, when he woke up to board the plane, but then brightened up almost immediately. My theory is that it was food poisoning from our last Fiji dinner, because it was over so quickly.
Fortunately the flight to SFO was only 50 minutes, and the transfer was pretty swift, so we were at our hotel in reasonable time. In fact, we arrived there a few hours before we left Fiji, thanks to the International Date Line. All went to bed early, somewhat jaded.