As the red seat-belt lights began to flash, I felt my ears pop – the plane was beginning it’s descent to San Francisco airport. Looking out of the window, all I could see were clouds upon clouds… I turned to my mum and said, “Have we just been flying round in circles?” Despite this, I was itching with both excitement to start the holiday, and excitement to get out of the plane… being sat in front of a kicking child for 11 hours wasn’t great.

Our first night in SF was eventful. During the transfer from the airport to our hotel, we witnessed a lady being mugged of her weekly shop, and a homeless man attempt to break into a car. And that was within 2 hours of us landing. Once we arrived at the hotel, the receptionist provided us with a map. He highlighted the places we should visit, like Fishermans Wharf, and also highlighted a grey area where we shouldn’t go… ever. It was just a block away from the hotel, and was where drug raids were as common as Lucky Charms and Fruit Loops.

Before you go to San Francisco, here’s some things you need to know…

San Francisco itself is like one large maze, there is a grid system, and instead of talking distances in miles, they talk in “blocks”. Oh, and walking around San Fran is like one large workout. It’s on a hill, so you’re guaranteed to some home with extra large calf muscles. Make sure you visit Nob Hill, and bring your walking shoes… it’s massive!!

This is my emotional journey of walking up a hill in San Fran

If you’re expecting to have the ‘Cali Weather’, you’re in for a shock. I visited in early July, and the highest temperature must’ve been around 25 degrees C. Make sure you pack a few jumpers, and a rain mac! For the weather is just as hormonal as it is here in the U.K.

Stay tuned… next I’ll be talking sightseeing.

The Golden Gate Bridge
Fisherman’s Wharf
Pier 39
Shopping
4th of July
… and the breathtaking Alcatraz

NEXT STOP… SIGHTSEEING!

So this fortnightly theme is going to be on travelling outside of the UK… and what better place to start off than The Land of the People… the brilliant United States. In Summer of 2015 I was fortunate to be surprised by my mother with a guided tour of the west coast of the US as a reward for finishing my GCSE’s. I had never been to the States before… so all the anticipation at the airport made me look like a child in a sweet shop.

July 1st/2nd 2015

As a descendant of generations upon generations of Northern Irish folk, I’ve come to the realization that I don’t tan. At all. If anything the I come back from my travels even paler. Determined not to let the curse of the pale skin faze me, I decided to get my first ever spray tan. At first I looked nice and sun kissed, and I sat there and thought to myself, “hey, don’t you look good!”. I was ready to take on America looking just like the majority do in blazing 40 degree summer heat. But much to my surprise, and it was just my luck, that as the tan developed, it reacted with my skin in a way it shouldn’t have. As my mother walked into my room at 10 a.m on the day we were due to head to the airport, I was already awake, lying there excitedly reading “Top 10 things to do in San Francisco”. I looked up, and was greeted by my mum’s face full of shock, like she had just seen a ghost. Confused, dazed, and half asleep I asked her, “Maaaam, are you okay?”. She then let out a giggle, and told me to look in the mirror. I… Was… Green.

Let me just clear things up. I was a tanned orange-like colour, with a green tint, not as green as The Hulk. Thank god. But what a great first experience of spray tanning it was (not). It’s like the Irish gods were telling me to embrace my heritage, and from that day I have.

A pot of exfoliator and 3 showers later the green seemed to fade. I still had a faint tan, and at that point I was happy. The panic was over. I could now finish packing my suitcase (last minute, I know) and get into holiday mode! I must admit, I’m a typical woman, I don’t pack lightly. The best thing about packing heavy is that you’re prepared for every scenario. Raining at 10 a.m then sunny at 11 a.m? Sorted. Skiing in the morning and meeting the Queen for dinner? Got that covered. A zombie apocalypse? Running trainers, check. Much to my mothers dismay, I decided to put a couple of pairs of shoes in her suitcase… you know, just to be sure.

Our flight from Heathrow International to San Francisco International was very early morning on the 3rd of July, so my mother and I decided to take a taxi down to Heathrow the night before, and start the holiday early. Driving up to the hotel, all you could see was a sky full of Dreamliners, and I could just imagine seeing all of the tiny little people peering out of the oval-shaped windows waving goodbye to rainy England. That would soon be us! The hotel was within such a close proximity of Terminal 5’s runway, that at dinner we sat watching all of the keen holiday-makers take off. It was far more entertaining than sat on the sofa eating dinner and watching Neighbours.

After dinner we went back to the hotel room, watched some television, and decided to have an early night. After all, we were flying over 5,000 miles across the Atlantic the following day. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t doze off, all of the excitement was to blame. But eventually, I fell asleep, for the next morning I would head off on what would be an unforgettable adventure.