I finally arrived in San Diego about 6pm or so, and met up with my friend Lynn. I had known Lynn from back home, and she had just moved to San Diego to start work on her PhD. We spent a little time catching up, and then headed out for sushi with her roommate and then the 3 of us went out to a bar called Moondoggies. While at Moondoggies, I started striking up conversations with strangers as I've been known to do. I started talking with a couple who claimed to be cousins, but looked awfully close to be cousins. Perhaps they're from West Virginia. Anywhoo... They were pretty cool folk, and when I told them I was headed to Costa Rica, they said they were headed there too. I asked how they were getting there (because at this point, I was still car-less other than my little Neon rental, and a free car to be picked up soon). They said they were headed there by boat. I immediately asked if I could join, or at least stowaway. They told me they worked aboard a 140 foot mega-yacht, and were in no position to offer anyone a ride. But they gave me the name of the staffing service that they used, and told me I could try getting a similar job through them. Monday couldnt come soon enough, I was so excited. When it came, I made an appointment to go down and see the staffing lady. She was, unfortunately, almost no help at all. As much as I tried to convey to her that I wanted to learn more about the basics of getting one of these jobs, she kept on drilling in the high-level stuff which was no use to me. I just wanted to find work on a boat going south, regardless of pay. She gave me a newspaper which covered the mega-yacht industry, which was by far more helpful. I left my name and info with her in case anything turned up, but it sounded doubtful. One thing she did mention was that I'd need a passport, and as mine had been in the truck, I'd now need to get a new one. So later that day, I went to the post office and filed for a new one, which will take 5 weeks unless you can prove a need for having it sooner, such as an airline ticket with a leave date which is almost right away. So, I have 5 more weeks in the US before I can think about leaving. To be honest, this didnt bother me that much. I had been so gung-ho about driving solo in to Mexico and beyond, but I'd run in to several people who told me driving solo is about the only unsafe thing you can do down there. To add to it, my Mom was getting more uneasy of the idea, which made me re-think it. Thats part of the reason I started looking in to the boats. Also, I figured I'd see if I could find a co-pilot to go down there with me, and if I couldn't, I'd just take a bus or plane, which to work out what I was going to do, 5 weeks waiting for a passport was no big deal.
After looking around on the docks for leads on jobs (which is how it was done in Alaska, but not so much here), I remembered one of the descriptions of the hostels in the guide book saying it was a place where people looking for yacht jobs stayed, which is always a good way to make contacts. So I decided to check it out. Added to the fact that Lynn was busy with school work and had other visitors in the following weekend, I thought if I was going to stay in San Diego another couple of days, a hostel might be better.
Little did I know that the Banana Bungalow would be one of the crowning jewels of my trip. I walked in and found myself right in the middle of a beach party. I checked in and walked on to the back deck, which overlooked the ocean. Man, oh man. This bit of super-prime real estate was the home of a $20-a-night hostel. As I'm talking to a couple people on the deck, someone comes up and asks me if I want to chip in $5 for a keg tonight. I'm in heaven. Then someone asks me if I'd like to chip in $5 for rainbow trout and marinated chicken with mash potatoes on the side, all-you-can-eat home cooked meal. Does it get any better?
Every night at the Bungalow was like this. Chillin during the day at a beach-side resort, wild parties on the deck at night. All the time, the homeless beach-bums known as 'tweekers' or 'wall creatures' (like the one on the chopper) would entertain us with antics and fights, occasionally asking us for beers, which they knew they werent supposed to do, and sometimes we'd give it to them, which we knew we wernt supposed to do. They were a crazy bunch. I mentioned once that the only thing that really separates those on that side of the Bungalow fence with us was about $20. Even that wasnt so much the case with all the people at the Bungalow. There were about 20 employees, who cleaned bathrooms and did other chores in exchange for free rent. It seemed like half the people staying there were employees. Everyone who goes to the Bungalow seems to stay there longer than they planned - I was no exception. There was one lead on a boat that I did find there, and that was a boat that was headed to Panama leaving in January. I talked to the owner, and he said he'd consider giving me a position, but had to wait on last years crew to see if they planned on returning or not. Eric also said he might be interested in joining me on my trip to Costa Rica if I drive.