America

God, I love it here. People keep smiling and saying hello to me.

"Hello!" says a shop assistant, startling me.

"Hello!" I say back, trying to mask my surprise, thinking of Iceland where we all completely ignore each other til we're on at least our fifth pint.

Yesterday we drove round the coast, paddled in the ocean somewhere between San Francisco and Santa Cruz; I can't be more pacific than that. The beaches were deserted. It was a gorgeous 18 degrees centigrade outside, so all the Californians were snuggled up at home keeping warm. I screamed like a girl when a vulture circled us slowly overhead. A vulture! With big black wings and a sweaty red head. I jumped around, waving my designer cowboy boots at it so it'd know I wasn't dead. Later, we ended the day with a romantic meal at an Italian restaurant, where an enthusiastic waiter introduced himself by name. I told him my name was Annie and asked for the mussels and ciabatta bread.

It's not all exotic and peculiar though. On the downside there's a Subway, a Shell, and a Starbucks on every street corner. I was half expecting things to be a little different over here, but, I am sad to report, in many ways America seems to be much the same as the rest of the world instead.