i live in san francisco now and it is very different

Strange to say, even after a fortnight living here. I've been Tweeting about it and waffling about it on my Facebook: but I think the time has come to start blogging regularly about what an interesting and different and wonderful town this is. Lots of people leave home and disappear across the world with nothing but a suitcase and a big hope: and I'm proud to have joined their ranks.

Four girls I knew well in college have done the same in the last year: Cait lives in Holland, Laura lives in London, Cathy lives in Japan and Sophie lives in Oman. I find this extremely strange. Two years ago we all huddled in the beer-garden of Bakers Corner in Deansgrange pretending we were going to concentrate and stay in and study tomorrow, while we knocked back gin like it wasn't going to give us the fear in the morning. 

So San Francisco has so much. So, so much. The most obvious so far have been the big massive hills, poetry nights, beautiful houses, micro-breweries, enormous portions, avocados, cantaloupes and lots of people who say 'Oh my God you're Irish that's adorable! That's so cute.' even if all I am doing is asking for a beer or trying to pay for a packet of Pretzel M&Ms (true story, they're absolutely unreal). Irishness is not cute. I have not moved across the world from a thatched cottage with the last sheckles from my pot o'gold in my back pocket. No, I am not wearing contact lenses (I know, right? That's the weirdest one) My hair is dyed red from a packet, it is not this colour because I am related to a Leprechaun. No, I'm not drunk right now. I'm delighted your great-aunt Jemima is from county Gahl-way or Donaygawl or Monagin, but no I probably don't know her. I know they mean well, the people who say these things, but I've never felt as fiercely defensive of my nationality in my life. Even when I lived in Holland, people just kind of didn't question Irishness in any way, or caricature us. I'm thinking of training myself into a Californain drawl just to avoid the inevitable customs-like-interview at the till in every shop I nip into. This is a multicultural city, beautifully so, but still, I feel a little like a sore thumb! It could be a cultural jet-lag, but the strange little culture clashes are so worth all of the amazing newness of living here. 

I feel like I'm solar-powered up to ninety by the gorgeous and balmy weather. The hills are making my legs strong. Avocados are making my skin good. C.B, the gorgeous lad, hasn't stopped smiling since I arrived and that makes me smile. Toothpaste is full of bleach here so my smile is extremely shiny now, so the pair of us are wandering around necks craned at all the gorgeousness of this town grinning bleachy smiles like lunatic tourists. 

But we're not tourists. We live in San Francisco now. 

If you'd like to follow my photographic journeys, give my photo-blog Tumblr a click. It's linked to my iPhone camera & Instagram, so as I see all these awesome things I snap them and they're automatically posted here. 

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Kissies, party on guys, more news soon,

Griff