Like Tahotally Amazing

Here are a few things that make Lake Tahoe so special:

• Cycling along the marina, down to the beach
• Wading half a mile into the lake and still not having the water lap high than your knees
• Kicking up fools gold from the bed of the lake and watching it glisten in the midday sun
• Staring into a clear night’s sky, the stars like lights on ceiling
• Floating on a peddle boat, dangling your feet into the crystal clear water
• Sitting under a boardwalk, watching the world go by
• Watching the sun go down behind the mountains, while tip-toeing through fresh water
• Taking a cable car to a mountain peak at the south of the lake, giving views of the 22-mile long lake
• Skimming stones on the lake as dusk settles
• Sharing a beer with friends, under July 4th fireworks
• Having a milkshake, walking along a boardwalk, while familes frolic on the beach
• Standing on thousand-foot rock faces, over an awe inspiring view of Emerald Bay
• Knowing you’ll be back. Someday

A Few Videos From San Francisco

Driving down Lombard Street, the world’s crookedest street. (Expletive language included – courtesy of Streety)

Alex and I cycling along the Golden Gate Bridge.

Streety and Latvian just behind us.

Cyclin’ On The Dock Of The Bay

I feel like the theme of the last week has been ‘taking chances’. The wedding was a result of Rob taking a chance and coming to America, we took a chance asking for a tour of the winery in Apple Hill on Tuesday and yesterday, in San Francisco, we took a chance on two wheels.

After a 90-minute drive from Sacramento into downtown San Francisco, Alex, Chris, Andy and I found ourselves at Lori’s Diner, near the wharf, weighing up our options, over an Oreo milkshake.

I saw some people cycling across the street and had one of those lightbulb-above-the-head ideas. Ding! Let’s hire bikes and cycle to the Golden Gate Bridge! It took some convincing of the others, but my persuasion skills won through and we soon found ourselves peddling along the beach towards one of America’s most iconic landmarks.

I was paired with Alex while Chris and Andy were on the other tandem – in matching white t-shirts and jeans. Like some sort of Bike Buddies. Bless.

Everything went swimmingly, racing along the seafront, the wind in our hairs, ringing the bell at pretty girls we passed, and we were soon at the foot of the Golden Gate bridge.

We had a little pep talk about going single file across the bridge and stopping mid-way to take photos, and then we were off.

We had to peddle like mad (well, Alex, Andy and I did, because Chris, who was on the back of Andy’s bike, just put his feet up the whole time) because the wind was immense. It was like cycling in cement. But we battled on and made it to the other side – a mile or so later.

Then disaster struck. Just when everything was going great, I started to get a little over-confident. Apart from going in a straight line all along the bridge, we had to cycle around both legs of the bridge. On the second one and massive gust of wind blew right into us as we were exiting the turn.

After two hours of cycling a little bravado appeared and I tried to take that turn at speed. The wind decided against that, and as I tried to turn the bike resisted. The result – crashing into the barriers. Poor Alex, who had no control over anything, went flying over the bike and landed on her arm.

I fell forward but managed to put my hands out. The most damage I received was to my ego, heavily bruised after I had been doing so well.

We brushed ourselves down and headed back, much slower than before. Dinner at a seafood restaurant and a journey down Lombard Street, the most crooked in the world, and we were on our way home. Tired and bruised, but content.

We’re now in Lake Tahoe, on the California/Nevada border. It’s a stunning location and the perfect place to relax after a hectic week.

View To Kill

Chris, Alex and Andy give us a quick introduction to the Apple Hill region.

Red Red Wine

Sacramento is famous for two things: gold and wine. Whereas the gold rush died out 70 years ago, the wine rush is still in full flow. The hills on all sides of Sacramento still pump out quality wine by the bottle and we decided it was time to taste what all the fuss was about.

Unfortunately, we chose the ’slowest month of the year’ according to Paul, the owner of Madrona Winery, in Apple Hill. But that didn’t stop him giving us an exclusive tour of his base, complete with complimentary tastes of wines which weren’t yet on sale.

We chose the Apple Hill region, about an hour east of Sacramento, because it is rarely visited compared to it’s counterpart Napa Valley, on the other side of the city. And we were treated to deserted rolling hills of vineyards, no tourists, and the chance to ask lots of questions to the winery propriators.

While Chris seemed more at ease with the water and the crackers on offer, the rest of us soon became fond of the rich, fruity reds on offer and quickly fell in love with the Syrah port.

Because we visited off season, many of the wineries (and the information centre) were well and truly closed, but we managed to find a couple that were open year-round. Highlight of the day was a visiter at Madrona winery who, when asked by the lady behind the bar, what he thought of the 2006 Cabernet Franc, said: “Me? Oh, no, I’m not really a wine person.”

We rounded off the day by filling a box full of our favourites and driving them home, tired and swishing with reds and whites in our bellies, but happy we’d ventured east.

Seeing is Believing

We were watching CNN the other day and there was a report on the trouble in Tehran. For some reason the TV had subtitles on and we couldn’t get rid of them, but it did provide us with a funny little moment.
When the anchor said “…leader of Iran…” (which over here is pronounced Eye-ran) the voice-activiated subtitles got confused and came up with “LEADER OF EYE RAN”. Sounds like a Bond villain.

Opening Omens

You know there are those days that you know are going to be long and stressful and right at the beginning you get an omen. Sometimes it’s a good one, sometimes it’s a bad one. Then you can expect either a smooth day or something hellish.

On Saturday it was the wedding of my best mate Rob in Sacramento, which is currently cloaked in 100F of sun. I had only visited the venue once before and had no idea where I was going to do my speech, or when. A recipe for a long day you’d have though.

But when I woke up at 7am and staggered, blurry-eyed to the bathroom I had an omen, and it was a good one. I went to put my contact lenses in and both slipped on perfectly first time. This has never happened to me in the two months I’ve been wearing them. ‘Good start’, I sighed with relief.

Rob and I then spent an hour meticulously putting our kilts on. His had a Sutherland tartan, his family name, mine had a generic Scottish tartan – for I have no Jock blood in me.

By then the rest of our gang had woken and had filed into our room to watch the festivities and give Rob some moral support. But when they left to change into their suits and dresses Rob and I slid our underwear off to complete the authentic kilt outfit. A deep breath from us both and we headed for the car.

We arrived at the venue, Slocum House, with an hour and a half until kick-off and I spent that running around like a mum that has lost a kid, trying to help out where I could, constantly going back to the bar for drinks of water and keep Rob calm.

At 11am, with half an hour to go, I got a phone call from the maid of honour which meant the bride had arrived. This was my cue to bundle Rob into the gents toilets to make sure he didn’t see her.

Before long guests were milling around and chatting freely and everyone seemed ready for the biggest moment of Rob and Laura’s life.

The groomsmen and bridesmaids walked arm in arm down the makeshift aisle in the garden of Slocum House where guests had lined a walkway. No-one slipped up and last to emerge was Laura, Rob’s impending bride. A hush descended as Latika’s Theme by A R Rahman floated from the stereo across the garden. Laura stole the eyes of all in the garden, as the glided down the aisle, looking like a 1950s movie star.

Rob and Laura seemed to hold each other’s stare through the entire ceremony, only breaking it to kiss as Cabus, the minister, announced them husband and wife.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief because it meant my main duties as best man – make sure the groom gets married – had been completed. Thankfully the sporran on my kilt outfit had proven to be the perfect place to keep the rings.

As the midday sun settled into the California sky, guests started to move inside to escape the sweltering heath. Sitting in four layers of kilt, Rob and I couldn’t avoid sweating loads, but it didn’t matter.

My sweat ratio increased around 2pm as my speech approached. Thankfully Lauren, the maid of honour, had come to my rescue with a projector and speakers meaning I was able to hook up my laptop and show the slideshow of video messages from friends back home in the UK for Rob and Laura.

I invited the 50-strong guestlist into the bar area for my speech. As they gathered and the hum of chatting quietened I took another deep breath. Everything had gone smoothly so far but this was the final hurdle.

I delivered my first gag of the speech and waited…instant laughter. Phew!

The second joke went down even better and before I knew it I was well into my speech, enjoying toying with the crowd and Rob with each line.

Even bits in the speech I didn’t expect to get any reaction for got a laugh. They really were the best audience a rubbish comic could ask for.

The video messages went down a storm too and as I raised my glass for a toast, safe in the knowledge my last duty of the day had passed successfully, I finally relaxed. The next half an hour was spend shaking hands with guest who proclaimed it “the best speech I’ve heard” and “very funny”. I had nightmares it was going to flop leading up to the day. This was more than I could have hoped for.

As guests started to leave and the day wound down, I found it easier to enjoy the moment, and tried my best to have a quick chat with all the guests.

Rob and Laura seemed to be lapping up the day too, chatting and laughing with theirs guests, and looking the perfect couple we all knew they were.

I drove them back to their hotel in downtown Sacramento and then back to mine, when I dived into bed and settle in for a well-earned nap. Thanks opening omen.

On My Way

I wake in my airplane seat to the tapping of the person behind on my headrest. They are busy choosing their video entertainment on their touchscreen monitor, but I can feel every tap.

NowI am reluctant to try and find anything to watch on my screen because I’m worried about annoying the chap infront, by tapping into the back of his head.

I try lightly pressing the screen but nothing registers, so I resign myself to staring blankly at the flight map, as we creep from one side of the screen to the other.

A quick check of the watch – 1.05pm. One hour after take-off. “We’ll be cruising over Ireland by now,” I think, safe in the knowledge I was finally on my way to America.

A quick glance out of the window. “Hmm, awful lot of tarmac covering Ireland.”

“I’m sorry, folks,” comes the captain’s voice over the tannoy. “We’re still waiting for clearance. We’ll have you on your way soon.” I plugged my earphones in and tried to get some more rest.

I venture to the toilet after a few hours of watching Greenland come and then go. But it’s a while before I’m back in my seat because I have this stupid fear that when I press ‘flush’, the suction will be so strong it will suck me out of the plane.

It’s a good six minutes before I muster up the courage to press it. I survive and sigh repeatedly on my way back to 40D.

I wake to find both Sacramento and I under a blanket; me a woolen blanket, Sacramento a blanket of evening sun. The fields glisten golden as we float lower.

An Important Week

I think I am entering the most important week of my life: I embark for a six-month adventure in America on Wednesday, and only three day later I am best man at a wedding in Sacramento.

It’s my first time ever as the back-up groom (that’s what they were in the old days! If the groom didn’t show, the best man had to marry the bride. Those crazy olden day people).

I’m best man to my best mate Rob who has lived in LA for nearly two years. He moved there to be with his girlfriend (now fiance) and with only a week to go till the big day I’m filled with a blend of excitement, nerves and sheer fear that everything will go wrong.

Because the rule book states that on the big day it is the best man who has to make sure everything goes to script. Any problems – it’s him who has to iron them out.

And I am so proud to be Rob’s best man that I will do my utmost to make sure the day goes perfectly, but it’s hard to prepare when the venue is on the other side of the world.

I haven’t been able to visit it, which would allay many of my fears, and even though Rob and I chat online most days, I still feel a bit out of the loop.

Lauren the Maid of Honour has been great and helped me organise the bachelor party. We’re going white water rafting down the American River in Sacramento. I’m really scared Rob will sustain a serious injury that will prevent his getting married two days later. I’m going to latch myself onto him, like some overly-touchy bodyguard to make sure any injury inflicted to him, is actually on me.

And after the wedding, I have a big adventure ahead of me – coaching soccer for six months. I can’t wait to meet lots of new people, and have some fun. I’ve spent too much time in an office lately, its time to get out and about.

Face the Truth

Here are some more faces to add to the ‘Things That Look Like Faces’ project.

Face 10. This is the corner of my parents’ dinner plater holder thing. It’s a complete face, with hair and everything! I think it’s my favourite. It looks a bit like the character that used to advertise Sprite.

Face 11. This is a cheeky little face on the back of a Nintendo Wii controller. It seemed to be saying to me: “You are rubbish at MarioCart, dude”.

Face 12. This face seems happy enough. He’s perched on the bottom of Jon’s coffee making machine.

Face 13. Want to make a toasted sandwich? Well, first you have to get past this evil looking chap. He looks like he might bite your hand off!

Face 14. Another door in Tunbridge Wells. What is it with doors around here? Do theymake them look like faces on purpose?

Face 15. The top of Jon’s coffee making machine. Look at his cheeky little mouth. He looks like he’s just enjoyed a skinny latte.

Face 16. Owen’s cooker, looking inviting and friendly, in a kind of Tim-nice-but-dim way.

Face 17. The bottom of a Waitrose own-brand toilet roll batch. It looks like an old man with big, bushy eyebrows.

Face 18. The top of my reporter’s notepad. I’ve cheated a little but drawing in the nose and mouth but it’s still good, right?

Face 19. This sorry looking face was staring back at me on my flight to Barcelona. We became friends. Muy Bien!

Face 20. This surprised face is on the side of a house in Sevenoaks. I wonder what makes him look so shocked?