Leaving the freakish cold climate of New Mexico, I headed further west towards San Diego where I had planned to take the local trolley all the way down to San Ysidro, the border crossing town into Mexico.  I then planned to cross on foot into Tijuana and stay there for 3 nights.  Unfortunately my Greyhound coach was an hour late arriving in Albuquerque and then some how managed to loose another hour on the way, meaning that I missed one of my connecting coaches.  Obviously I was wrong to assume they would wait? 
After having my route altered considerably, I eventually arrived in San Diego at 11:30pm having been on the coach for roughly 26 hours.  By now I was so tired and fed up of traveling, that the appeal of visiting one of the most dangerous cities in the western world had somewhat worn off, not to mention that every single person I spoke to regarding Tijuana had advised me to avoid it if possible.  Due to this I decided to scrap my original idea and instead stay in San Diego for a few days.  
By the time I collected my bags from the coach it was a little after midnight and it then dawned on me that I had not booked anywhere to stay and didn't even knew of anywhere in the city within my budget.  Luckily a wonderfully helpful police officer at the coach station allowed me to use her phone to ring a relatively cheap hotel that she knew of.  After walking a mere 8 blocks, I finally arrived at the hotel at 1am to the extremely comforting sound of "yes we do have available rooms".

The following morning I briefly used to the Internet in the hotel and managed to book the next 3 nights in a very highly rated hostel, perfectly situated in the smart Downtown area of the city.
Over the following few days I had a great time in San Diego, meeting an array of interesting people (one in particular that I would see again on my travels), and also covered a fairly substantial distance sight seeing.

One of the highlights of my stay would have to be the day I spent walking around the Historic Old Town of San Diego.  Although now a popular tourist attraction, this part of the city was a beautiful insight into the way of life and style of buildings found shortly after the Mexican War of Independence in the 1820's.

As a complete contrast to this, I also spent a good few hours in the Gallery of Modern Art, which as you can imagine was definitely not found in 19th Century San Diego. Instead it was located a few blocks away from the port, which proudly holds the USS Midway, now acting as the largest naval aviation museum rather than an active WW2 aircraft carrier.
I would definitely consider myself to be a traditionalist when it comes to most art forms as I have found most Modern Art to be highly pretentious and of no use at all to the common man (or woman), however on this occasion I was fortunate to visit the gallery while a special light installation was being exhibited.
On face value the simple collection of neon lights being displayed in various clinical looking rooms may have seemed rather dull and unadventurous to many people, but with the help of my trusty camera I was able to experiment, distorting the intended image for my own benefit.  Not only did this amuse me for a few hours, it must have also amused the security guard who was no doubt wondering what on earth I was doing twisting my camera around and shaking it all over the place.

Although I only stayed there for a few days, San Diego proved to be a wonderful place. With one of the lowest crime rates in the US, it presented a fresh and exciting atmosphere while also being extremely pleasing on the eye, both in the Downtown area and also the Old Town.  
I don't believe in fate, but in retrospect I am glad I was made to endure such a long coach ride, otherwise I may have spent the past few days avoiding pick pockets and dodging bullets in Tijuana, rather than having a thoroughly enjoyable time in San Diego.

Moving on again, I took an extremely short coach journey (5 hrs), eventualy arriving in Hollywood, home to the rich and famous.
Compared to most other places I have visited, Hollywood surprisingly did not have a great deal to offer in terms of interesting attractions and activities during the day, however as soon as night fell the area came to life with endless trendy clubs and bars.

On my first full day, I decided to have a relaxed morning in the hostel, reading my current book and pointlessly browsing the Internet.  
After lunch I headed out on foot towards the famous Hollywood sign.  At the hostel they offered many tours of the area including the Hollywood sign and Beverly Hills, but instead of parting with my hard earned cash I decided to make my own way there.  Little did I know that my hostel was in fact quite a few miles away from the Hollywood sign and also required walking up countless steep hills.  This did not deter me from my goal of reaching the sign and in fact turned out to be an extremely pleasant walk. 
As I strolled through the countless winding streets, the size and quality of the houses increased considerably until I finally found myself amongst some absolutely stunning properties.  Eventually I made it as close as I could get to the sign which overlooked practically the whole of the Hollywood area.
It seems rather superficial to get so excited about a simple word being displayed on the side of a hill, but I must confess that it was definitely an exciting sight to behold.
Unfortunately I forgot that if I walked 4 hours away from my hostel, it would probably require another 4 hours walking back.  By the time I eventually decided to head back it was already dark, so my journey home was slightly more adventurous especially seeing as I was not taking any notice to the route there.  Not to worry though, I made it back in record time and was gald to reach the comfort and warmth of my hostel (I was wearing shorts and sandals again).

On my last full day in Hollywood I decided to take another lengthy walk, this time through the area where anyone who is anyone seems to live.
Just a quick word of advice, if you fancy bringing yourself to within touching distance of clinical depression, try wearing the same dirty clothes for 2 months, sticking to a budget of $5 a day and then take a leisurely stroll through the Beverly Hills area of Los Angeles!  I can practically guarantee it will do strange things to your current feelings of accomplishment in life, however young or old you happen to be.
My Mother has always strongly believed that money cannot bring you happiness in life, well this area of the city may not directly exude impressions of joy and happiness but it must go a long way towards this particular state of mind.
While I was looking at the endless number of exquisite mansions, complete with their equally beautiful cars and gardens, I kept saying to myself that these people must be awfully unhappy with their lives, their families and their well paid jobs.  As completely misguided this may have been, it certainly did help ease the overwhelming feelings of jealousy and envy that were running through my mind.

After a great deal of walking and starring at the houses, I eventually reached the Playboy Mansion which was situated in the Bel Air district of the city.  Much to my disappointment there was actually not much to see here.  The entire property was surrounded by extremely tall trees, blocking any possible view of the Playboy Bunnies, oops, I mean the Playboy Mansion of course!
While taking photographs of the front gate, I was completely startled and rather embarrassed by the talking rock at my feet.  I obviously failed to notice that this fairly large rock was equipped with a speaker and a microphone but was happy to find that the talking rock was in fact very friendly.  After introducing myself, I then asked what it would take for me to enter the grounds.  The rock told me the only way would be to grow a pair of breasts.  At that point I did consider asking what pharmacy would be willing to prescribe me a double dose of estrogen tablets, but I came to the conclusion that the results of this would definitely not benefit me in later life.

Hollywood is a very bizarre place.  On one hand there are hundreds of famous names engraved in the individual stars along Hollywood Blvd, but these are all in the shadow of countless tacky souvenir stores, liqueur shops and pawn brokers.
The houses within the Hollywood hills seem to overlook the city as if they were placed not only higher up than the rest, but also higher in society.
While walking around the Beverly Hills and Bel Air neighborhoods I couldn't help notice that there was absolutely no character there.  Of course the houses were some of the most beautiful I have ever seen, but there was also not a soul in sight.  No children playing in the streets or the gardens, nobody talking to their neighbors.  The only people I saw amongst the houses were Mexican looking men fixing gutters and mowing the laws.  It almost seems that the status which comes with owning a house in this part of the world is more important that anything else.
Obviously if I somehow come into an enormous amount of money I will instantly retract my previous comments and buy a Beverly Hills property straight away, but until that day comes, this slightly image obsessed place is not for me.

P.s. I admit this does all sound a little negative, but I still had a wonderful time here and have also now come to understand my mum's theory on happiness just a little bit better.