Sorry this is a bit late. Time tends to fly when you're having fun. This is an extended version of the one sent a month ago.
I landed in LAX in Los Angeles absolutely shattered. Who knew that Fiji was so far away from America?! I thought it was just a quick nip over a bit of water. Turns out the Pacific Ocean is a bit bigger than originally presumed. So after 10 an half hours (yep, my eyebrows raised too!) I landed on American soil just wanting a good wash. However in America it seems like things are never easy. I queued and queued just to finally get to customs and find out I have to have my picture taken and my fingerprints to get into the country. Yep, you read right, fingerprints!! I felt no part of me was personal in this country and I'd only set foot in it for 30minutes. I'm surprised they didn't take a urine sample and a retina scan. After spending an age waiting for my bag to arrive I finally said a tearful goodbye to Cedric, an awesome guy I'd been travelling since New Zealand. I was gutted to see him leave, especially when he was also on the west coast but we eventually had to go our departed ways. There I was stood in the airport arrivals lounge, upset about leaving a new friend but excited about meeting my old ones. After their plane had landed it took an hour for the girls to go through baggage and customs so I spent the time talking to a very friendly Czech man picking up a lady friend. I also got over excited about seeing a famous classical English actor with long grey hair and acts similarly to Ian Mckellan walking through arrivals. For my entire time in America I hadn't a clue what his name was and it was bugging the hell out of me. Since I've been back in the UK and annoying many people on who it might be we finally realised it was the famous Michael Gambon. I saw Dumbledore walk through arrivals. No way!! I would've run after the poor man if my backpack wasn't going to send people flying. Anyway back to the blog...
The girls came through the gate soon after, rucksacks on and faces beaming. Despite the rush and bundle of the airport, as soon as I saw them I felt like I had been transported home again. I gave them all a vice grip hug and got extremely flustered with bags and paperwork. Us naturally all being amazing at organisation and navigation (and asking taxi drivers) we soon found ourselves waiting for our free mini bus to pick us up to take us to our very nice and surprisingly cheap hotel. As there were now four of us, booking family rooms in hotels and splitting the price meant we were paying diddlysquat to stay in luxury, especially compared to the hostels I had been staying in over the last few months. The hotel was close to the airport, convenient for the time being and had everything a good hotel should have, from a hot tube to free, yes free, wifi. The room was prefect to chill out in but the surrounding area looked more like a business hotspot rather than a place to entertain. There were a couple of restaurants nearby and a small supermarket down the road. We even learnt that there was a mall 20minutes down the road so that was plan for the following day. That evening we all agreed that we weren't hungry so instead of paying for a full meal we just bought crisps and chatted away in bed. In celebration for our reunion we had keenly bought a giant bottle of wine just to find in our excitement that it was a corked bottle and we were minus a corkscrew. After phoning down to reception and finding out that it would cost us $2.50 just to open the bottle, we quickly decided that we were all too tired anyway.
Jet lag is an odd thing as the girls were actually gaining 8 hours and I was gaining a full day, but we all hit the pillow and fell asleep within an instant. I woke up in the morning, my ears full of toilet paper to try and block out Nikkis snoring, which I had stupidly forgotten about and felt completely disoriented. I had come so accustomed to sleeping in dorm rooms that four people in a top-notch hotel completely shook me up. Not only that but when I finally realised where I was and that the girls were with me, it finally sunk in how close I was to going home. It wasn't a great feeling.
I woke up feeling like a train had hit me. I'm generally quite good with mornings but today I could've destroyed it with a shotgun. Even the girls were up, dressed and ready to go before I had even forced my eyelids open. A quick stretch, a scratch and a yawn and I was ready to go. The first thought I had running though my head was an obvious one…food! I was keen to see if the rumours about America's portions were true and if I could take up the challenge. After having two Fergburgers in a row in Queenstown I feel like I could devour anything. So off we trotted to a the shopping centre at the end of the very boring highway, containing many big brand shops that we had never heard of selling just about anything you could think of. The girls, like me, could only think of food and we quickly found a fancy looking café called Marmalade that seemed reasonably priced. The décor was unusual, the service impeccable and I soon ordered the first thing I laid eyes on which happened to be French toast. It can't be that bad, I thought. Just a few bits of eggy bread and strawberries. That even seems borderline healthy! I was clearly mistaken. The dish they brought out was the size of a small table and the bread was so huge it looked like it been taken out of a nuclear experiment. Topped off with mixed berries and a bucket of syrup, I quickly came to the conclusion that I was to be defeated early. America 1, Katie 0. The girls had similar issues. Even Jenny, who claimed she could eat for Ireland, had trouble polishing hers off. Nikki, who got very excited about the prospect of a cup of tea, was shown every type including green, red, black, white, except the one she clearly wanted, which was the good ol' English breakfast tea. We eventually paid for our meal, not easy when tax isn't added and you're expected to tip for everything in this bloody country and continued to waddle around the rest of the shops. After a lazy scan of the shops we finally invested in a corkscrew and a mammoth bottle of wine that you probably bathe in. Back at the hotel we decided to carefully deliberate what to do for that evening by lounging in the hot tub drinking our very classy wine out of plastic water bottles, as you weren't allowed glass by the pool. Well, rules are rules. We eventually decided on travelling to Santa Monica to have a glance at that famous beach.

Two bus rides later (ridiculously cheap - $1.50!) and a very pleasant chat with the bus driver, we were dropped off outside a Bloomingdales in Santa Monica, which, as you can imagine, just got us even more excited. Even pictures were taken. We headed for the beach and the pier suddenly appeared out of nowhere and that was it, we were all beside ourselves with excitement. With all the amazing things I had already experienced and seen, this wasn't really much to go by but the girls' enthusiasm was infectious. The beach was, of course, perfectly golden with little life guard huts dotted all the way down the stretch of the sand, gazing protectively out to see. The first words out of Jennys mouth were 'Oh my god, it's just like O.C!' Next thing we knew were were clambering onto one of the huts (easier said than done when the ramp up to it was at a 60 degree angle and covered in sand), grabbing the nearest Japanese tourist to take a photo of the us. A couple of embarrassing moments soon followed involving slow running down the beach believing we were Pamala Anderson about to save 20 lives at once with her enormous bosoms but eventually we decided to take a ganders down the pier itself. I don't know how they did it, but as we walked over the pier as the sun set in the distance, I was amazed of how many restaurants/rides/shops they managed to squeeze onto one pier!! There were more buildings and people on there than the entire population of Plymstock! The first we came to and probably the one that made me smile everytime I saw it was the Bubba Gump Shimp Restaurant. You just can't help but imitate the famous line in the thick southern accent every time you see it. There were loads of stall, cafes and arcades, so much so I didn't know where to look first. The girls were equally as fascinated as I was and every so often I found myself standing there alone like an idiot while the other three were dodging in and out of the crowd snapping away wioth their cameras. At times I felt like sending up a flare would be the only way to find them. Or keeping them on childs reins. The pier was beautifully lit up with so many coloured light bulbs I could only presume they could see it from space. As we slowly meandered down to the end we all agreed we should eat something, only something small as we were amazingly still full from the mammoth breakfast. At the end of the pier was a posh looking mexican restaurant which had an extensive margarita list on the first page. Sold. The restaurant was packed and the over-friendly waiter sat us down and offered us some tortilla chips and some lovely spicy salsa on the table without even asking. Thats a good start, I thought, free tortilla chips with our meal! Oops, maybe not. As I was shoving the third chip into my mouth, it occured to me that these chips weren't free and they were of course there to encourage you to eat and spend more money. This is a warning out there to you all - the 'free' food they place on your table half an hour before your meal arrives is not and will never will be free, it will turn up on your bill. Obvious, you are probably thinking. Not when you're English. Learning quickly from out most recent foods mistake we ordered two mains to split between the four of us. Burritos and tacos. I personally always thought they were exactly the same but there you go. And of course the huge Margarita that could have been a meal in itself. It was a good end to the evening. We paid for the bill, including the crazy price for the tortillas, the tax we forget about and the 15% tip they always expect, and made our way back to the main road to wait for the number five bus. The bus journey back was a giggle as Jenny had her beady eye on every male that walked onto the bus, but rest of us soon joined in and by the end of the ride we were giving scores out of 10. We all also agreed that men that wear awful shoes can be a turn off very quickly, almost as quickly as body odour and hairy ears. I'm sorry, I know it sounds very childish and shallow, but lets face it, we all do it. Another quiet night in when we got back, or as quiet as it could be with the twins snoring away, to prepare ourselves for the long journey tomorrow. I just hoped San Francisco was ready for us.