Yesterday I went off to the San Diego Scottish Highland Games

Yes, that is exactly what i was thinking on the way there.

I wasn’t exactly dead keen on going. Having lived here for 2 and a half years now I know what the locals are like when it comes to anything European, particularly anything British.

Even just in the bars in downtown if I start talking to people the moment they realise I`m from the UK they say something stupid and stereotypical along the lines of:

“oh hey, yeah, I`m English ……… my grandfather once visited Cardiff …….. did you know him?”

my answer is always the same.

“Yes ….. yes I did know him”

So the San Diego Highland games was most likely going to be a melting pot of these idiots and I`d be walking straight into the middle of it.

The first thing on show was the “Highland Games Athletics” - the usual thing, caber tossing etc etc. Things did start to improve though when I found out there was a food hall - which sold “meat pies, haggis, fish and chips and sausage rolls. I was quite excited.

So after ordering my 2 sausage rolls and a load of haggis I started to do a bit more investigating. I was stopped every few feet by huge Americans wearing full Scottish regalia asking me “what the hell is that you`re eating?”

Then joy of joys. The beer tent.

I was very excited - They were sure to have some Scottish beers.

Perhaps they`d have some 80 shilling? Maybe some of the black isle brewery range……

maybe, just maybe they’d have some of my favourite- Deuchars IPA.

They would surely have to have the staple of most Scotsmen’s diets - Tennents.

No.

It turns out they had Newcastle Brown Ale, Guinness and wait for it……

Heineken

Not a single Scottish beer to be seen.

There was however 1 local brew called something like “the Bagpiper”

Cautious I walked to the bar and asked what the mystery beer was like.

The barmaid looked confused

“Its made like a Scottish beer”

Hhhhhmmm

“OK, but what does that mean? Is it dark, light, and IPA, a bitter a lager ….??”

“You`ll have to try it - as I said ts brewed like a Scottish beer”

So there you have it. If you`re in Scotland it doesn’t matter what you order from the bar because they all taste exactly the same as one another, just stand tall in any bar in Scotland and exclaim that you want a Scottish beer and it doesn’t matter which one.

Because they are all exactly the same.

When I am in the gym, I am a god.

People there look up to me with a combination of awe envy and lust

Not necessarily in that order.

Just as an example, I was down in my new gym a couple of days ago, ripping it up and generally just being amazing. I was scheduled to do one of my legendary cardio workouts and had decided to give a new bit of kit a try. The gym here has a few things called tread climbers, similar to a tread mil apart from with these you have two belts, one for each foot, that move at slightly different speeds and at slightly different angles to each other to simulate walking up a hill.

This would be the first time I`d been on one of tese things.

So I cranked it up to maximum power and went for the full hour.

I was disappointed to find that the “maximum” level was actually not that taxing. I only managed to burn just under 900 calories in the hour, compared to the usual 1000 - 1050 I get through with in the same time on the cross trainer.

Even so I must have made a good impression.

The moment I stopped some girl walked up to me and said:

“wow - you the man!!!”

Awe envy and lust.

I was my usual humble self.

“That was nothing!!!”

The gym however might also perhaps be my achilles heel. People who are hell bent on preventing my imminent move from California to Belgium are now resorting to even dirtier tricks than before.

For instance this is an email I received just a couple of days ago from someone I worked with in Edinburgh a few years back.

To keep his identity a secret I shall just call him by his real name - Henry Coles.

You have checked that they have gyms in Belgium haven’t you? I’m sure I read somewhere that they don’t, except for ones with little cissy weights.

I think Henry is suffering from envy.

It will surprise none of you to know that I have researched the gym facilities in Belgium fully and would not be moving there is the kit was not up to scratch.

Even if it wasn’t there are gyms in nearby France.

I could always commute…..

probably.

For months now I`ve had to sit back and listen to people, mostly Ed, go on and on about how moving to Belgium is going to be a disaster and I should definitely rethink my decision.

After the recent email activity I had started to think he was right.

So last Sunday afternoon whilst nursing my hangover earned by my efforts at the previous day’s beer festival I sat in front of my laptop and was skipping through pictures that I had taken on my previous visits to Mons, Belgium.

Looking for something ….. anything I could use to show that Belgium is more than its reputation would make you believe.

Most pictures were of beer bottles, which did not go down too well considering how I was feeling at the time.

But then I hit the jackpot.

A photo of a poster that was on the outside wall of a bar in the city centre.

Oh yeah!!!!!

So it turns out that Belgium has more to offer that just chips, mayo, beer and chocolate.

I think thats one more in the back of the net for Belgium.

I`m just about recovered from my beer festival experience of last Saturday.

Just about.

My earlier predictions about wanting to taste all 60 of the beers was perhaps a little too ambitious.

Because there were only 50.

And they had run out of 1 of them before I even got there.

And also because most of hte beers could double up as rocket fuel. Seriously, one of them was 15% alc vol. FIFTEEN percent!!!! Called Mead-Lange if you fancy reading its review on Beer Advocate.

It was not all on its own however with most beers there being in the region of 7 - 10%.

I was facing an uphill battle from the start.

But I tried

and tried

and failed.

Miserably.

After only 15 beers.

In my defense though the tasters were all between a third and a half pint each, plus I did target only the strongest beers there.

It was a good job I left it when I did though. At least I think it was because I cant really remember getting home. I have a bad memory of ordering pizza somewhere nearby and then going for a swim in the apartment complex hot tub but being unable to find the button to switch on the jets.

Still one good thing came of it. I didn’t feel like drinking at the party the day after. Which is good, because pretty much everyone there hadn’t had a drink for at least 20 years.

I might have stood out a little bit if I`d gone walking straight in waving a bottle of Don Perrion.

Oh this weekend is going to be so much fun.

A soon as I`m done giving todays lesson I`m off down the gym. I`ll be there mashing it up big time telling all the weeds that they’re weak and worthless and generally just being amazing.

I might even have a go on one of their new machines, the tread climber.

The fun continues on Saturday when I`m off to the 12th annual real ale festival in Carlsbad. They have 60 beers on tap and I fully intend to try each and every one of them.

Its been ages since I was at a beer festival. I think the last one was in Edinburgh a few years back when the guy selling me the beer accidentally handed me 20 pounds too much in change, and the guy I was there with(Carbon Footprint Sandy) was about to point out the error to the barman.

Until I kicked Sandy in the leg.

So generally I have a lot of fun at such events.

But this time its going to be just that little bit extra special.

Because the day after I`m going to a party.

Not just any old party.

Its a 20th Anniversary party.

Not a wedding anniversary party.

not an anniversary party for being at the same job for 20 years.

The hosts at the party have been sober for 20 years.

So they’re are having a 20 year sober anniversary party.

TWENTY YEARS.

Even the thought of it makes me want to run to the pub.

Yes indeed, this Sunday I`m going to party where most of the guests are part of the local ‘alcoholics anonymous’ group. They have all ‘been on the ‘programme’ for years.

I`m going to have so much fun.

Not only will I be hungover from the day previous and perhaps still slightly smelling of beer.

I`ll be taking a great big bottle of champagne along too.

To help them all celebrate

I thought after the events of my last post things would settle down and people (Ed) would leave it at that.

I thought he had had his fun.

I was wrong.

Instead of letting me get on with my move from California to Belgium and accepting my decision he goes and sends me an email.

With one line in it:

This:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Pke1mQmjwg

That might have tipped the scales. I must admit after watching that I am starting to doubt my own decision.

I`m interested to see what he’ll come up with next.

My decision to leave behind the warmth of Southern California and move to Belgium has raised eyebrews from good number of people. Not least from some of my former colleagues are going to be staying behind here in California, for the time being at least.

Many such people are now resorting to dirty tricks in order to try and make me change my mind about the whole thing.

Yesterday, for instance, I was chatting away to Ed on MSN.

The converstation was going along fairly well, but without much direction. The usual Saturday morning ramble after a Friday night out.

Then Ed came up with this.

“Hey, try typing this into google”

“most boring city in europe”

Please feel free to try for yourself,

or just click here.

Oh joy.

Still, I`ll have plenty of time left over to spend counting my money