Santa Cruzing for a bruising

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After the usual Greyhound debacle (the station opened at 9.15 am, not 6am as per the website and in fact the sign on the door), I settled down on a pretty empty bus, hoping to enjoy the view of Big Sur (the stretch of coastline between San Luis Obispo and Monterey) as we travelled up Highway 1. This wasn't to be however, as we took an inland route so all I got to see were vineyards.

Sadly the weather in Santa Cruz was no better than that which I had just left behind. I made it to my hostel despite the dubious Google directions and asked where I could get something to eat that was near. I was informed that there was a path running down the hill which would take me to Pacific Avenue and a ton of bars and restaurants. So out I ventured again, coming across the path pretty quickly, and just as quickly deciding that the sign stating 'Hazardous Area - Do Not Enter' combined with my general lack of co ordination was a good indication not to even bother. So I found a dubious shack selling Mexican food and ate there instead before going back to the hostel to meet my room mate, a 50 something ex hippy, who by the smell of things had been smoking weed in the room.

It had dried up slightly the next day so I took a walk into town, even braving the path of doom, and spent the morning wandering the shops there. The people around were a strange mix of student types, hobos, and aging hippies. On several occasions I had to dive out of the way of old men on skateboards.

After an hour or so, I followed the coastal road round to the boardwalk, where there is an funfair/amusement park type deal. Except all the rides were shut. The place reminded me of an English seaside town in the winter, it was almost deserted, but you could tell that in the summer it would be alive with teens and families enjoying the kind of tackiness you only get in places such as this.

Saving grace was the arcade, which had a ton of classic games (the old Star Wars! Out Run! Ms Pac Man!) and kept me entertained for a bit, before I went back to the main street to go see Sweeney Todd at the cinema. I really enjoyed the film, although Johnny Depp did sound like a comedy David Bowie. And for some reason I started to really fancy Helena Bonham Carter as Mrs Lovitt. I can only assume this was due to her corset.

That evening I returned to the hostel to find my hippy friend gone, and 2 young English girls in his place. Gaby and Laura had just come from 2 weeks in San Francisco, and were full of the energy of people who have just started their travels. The 3 of us went down to the pier to have fish and chips (though a poor American imitation) and get scared by homeless people jumping out on us (as if that's going to make us want to give them money), before going back to the room to sleep, with me looking forward to my last ever journey by Greyhound.

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