Preparation, Flights, Hostels - Can we get to Jensen's NOW please?!

Excitable, tired and apprehensive - I arrived at Manchester Airport at 5.15am, October 9th armed with my travelling companion, Callum; my passport and a stupendously oversized bag - the trip I'd been planning for 18 years was finally about to begin. But planning, as it is, always has it's flaws - especially, apparently, when I do it! A delay at Manchester to Heathrow was a bumpy start which was about to get worse...

'You'll need a Visa if you want to stay for this long' - Maths not being my strong point, a lovely man told me I'd over booked our trip and we'd have to change our return date... Great! Double great when I had to apologise to Callum a million and three times that we'd be flying home on his birthday...oops!

Getting me through were those calming sounds of the waves lapping the beach houses at Jensen's - something I haven't heard for pushing seven years.

Managing to finally get into the U.S after a relatively comfortable 10 hour flight across 'The Pond'... 'There may be a slight delay, ma'am - just a technical glitch with Immigration' - another wait...more calming waves...memories of sunsets...

At last...! Arriving in Downtown San Francisco, finding our first hostel; falling through the door... bunk beds; 'Psycho' style shower; and a patio out side for al and sundry to see our three month luggage count... Calming waves...sunsets...white deserted beaches... maybe a quick call to the Jensen's resort to say we may be early!

I jest - it wasn't too bad! The very fact that the lady at reception gave me a leaflet signalling that we'd arrived during Fleet Week was enough to restore a big smile on my face - that and I was doing something I had been dreaming about since I found out what dreaming was.

So after my bottom lip had been safely reposted to under my top (first time being away from home and all!!); we managed to take a walk around The City and our first evening was taken finding our bearings. San Francisco, being a lot smaller than I had imagined, took care of our daily exercise with the most amazingly steep hills - but did not disappoint. Friendly people, great food, brilliant weather...

Our first full day in San Francisco, after a surprisingly comfortable stay in the 'Norman Bates' Hostel', found us at Pier 39 - apparantly it's well known over here?? I can see why - great place, fantastic for the tourist in you, every souvenier you could need - and a Hooter's for Callum. Great.

So after two nights under Mr Bates' watchful eye, we moved to China Town for our final night in San Francisco. At this stage I must point out that the San Franciscans that we met were all hospitable fellows, however when we arrived at this second hostel, and arrived at a room on a corridor worthy of Stephen King's 'The Shining' - the bottom lip was once again shaking!

Opening, with trepidation I may add, the door in the morning, we made a quick exit and made our way down to the piers again... A quick trip on a boat with a booming voice over telling us about Al Capone and Alcatraz and watching the Blue Angels (That's the US Navy Flight Boys) putting on a show that was so good I'm sure I even heard 'wow' uttered from under Callum's breath - our 'Frisco Fix' was filled.

Next stop, L.A... a 'swift' 8 hour journey from the Greyhound boys and we're here. The sun's already down, but it's warm and the music from the saxophones at Venice Beach are going to send me to sleep - that and those waves at Jensen's...

Jen.