I  was listening to a man talking about the people he  had met while travelling across America and finding, as we did, that not everybody is like the Americans as portrayed by Hollywood.

We had been invited by friends who lived on Vancouver Island to spend some weeks with them on a sailing holiday.  After a fortnight of mixed joys sailing round the many islands and inlets there was a family crisis.  A grandchild arrived prematurely and mother was called on to help so we decided to take ourselves off .

Don and I flew to San Francisco.  A bustling city with all sorts of exciting things happening on the Waterfront.To my disappointment the famous streetcars were off the road as they were all being refurbished or something.   After a few days we decided to make our way back to Vancouver by Greyhound bus.  Funds were running low so we spent all one night on the bus saving on hotel .  We made friends with fellow passengers.  At one stop a small boy aged about five was put on the bus . He was on his way to his Grandmom he said and had a large label pinned to his coat with an address  printed on it in large red letters.  The driver talked to him all the way and waited when he got off to make sure he was met.  I got the impression he was a regular traveller.   We thought we would look for a place to rent for a week and a lady recommended a place called Seaside and we got off the bus with her and she helped os find a flat over a grocery shop.  A bit ramshackle but O.K/

We spent a lovely week, walking along the broad sandy beach and watching the birds.  A huge flock of pelicans nested at one end of the be ach We found everyone very friendly and interested in us   We were off the usual tourist route for English visitors.  One young girl rushed off saying "I'm going to tell my mum I've met some English people"

We got the bus back to Vancouver after staying a night in Portland, Oregan and resumed our sailing holiday, crisis being over.