So this travelling malarkey seems to have completely messed up our sleeping patterns as yesterday Emily and I were wide awake at 6.30am. We decided that rather than lying around listening to people snore (surely if you know you snore you should be obliged not to book into 10 bed dorms in hostels?) we'd get up and go for a wander. We went back down to the beach, and were met by some distinct 'American-ness'. Literally everywhere you looked there were troops of joggers wearing matching t-shirts and being urged on by 'Mentors'. I think they were training for the LA Marathon. It was just so unlike anything you'd see in the UK, lots of high fiving as they ran past their coach and genuine encouragement...very strange. So we hung around there for a while, and decided that if we were American and living in Santa Monica then maybe we would be inclined to get up at stupid o'clock and go running, but it just doesn't seem quite the same in Newport, South Wales.

At 9.15 we were picked up by a mini bus for our city tour. We wanted to go on it to get a better idea of what we want to do with ourselves here for the next 2 days and it was really useful. The driver talked at us as he drove and was actually really funny. Weirdly as well we met a couple from Penarth in Cardiff who had been in Australia for the past 5 weeks and were on their way home...Anyways, we went up to Pacific Palisades and Beverly Hills and saw where the 'stars' live. No Brad Pitt or Catherine Zeta Jones, but if you need to know where Sylvester Stallone used to live or Sugar Ray Leonard goes jogging, then I'm your gal. Hmm. The houses had to be seen to be believed, they were ridiculously massive and without exception had signs outside warning potential burglars (or overly curious tourists I guess!) that their security systems included armed response. Nice. What is weird is that quite a lot of people buy houses and then rip them down to replace them with something different. The guy who bought OJ Simpson's old place did that and even changed the address (for obvious reasons I guess) so that the numbers run 356, 358...380. I suppose they're paying to live where they live as opposed to the actual house itself. Then we went to Rodeo Drive which was just as it looks on the telly. We saw 4 Ferraris and a Lambourghini while we there, and nobody batted an eyelid. Anyway we were too ashamed of our obvious lack of money to go into any of the shops, so had to satisfy ourselves with using the loo in the hotel where Pretty Woman was filmed. Well, at least the outside bits were filmed. Apparently the rest of it was filmed in a studio. Then we did Hollywood briefly...compared the size of our hands to Marilyn Monroe's outside the Mann's Chinese Theatre and all that stuff (fairly normal sized hands, ridiculously tiny feet if you're interested.) We also got a picture of the Hollywood sign of course, although it could say anything the distance we were away from it (so you'll have to take my word for it!) Apparently one of the reasons you can't go any closer is that back a while ago a bunch of students went up there and changed it to 'HollywEEd'...how the hell they managed it I don't know as the letters are 50 foot tall and 35 foot across, but good on 'em anyway. Something to tell the grandkids you did, I spose!

In the evening we met Lu and David, British friends of friends who've moved over here to work for a pharmaceutical company. They took us to the most amazing restaurant in Malibu called Geoffrey's (yeah, I know it sounds like a gay bar) where we sat outside to eat and it was lit by little white lights and these massive fires on the edge of the water. The food was amazing and Lu and David were lovely, insisting on paying (we worked it out and think that the bill probably came to about double what it's costing us to stay at this hostel for 4 nights - Em paid for 4 drinks and it cost us double what it cost for both our meals the night before!) Anyway, I was hugely grateful as there was no need for them to be so generous, and we had a lovely night...

Anyway, this is no doubt boring the pants off you guys. No photos yet...the unhelpful guy on reception (the male equivalent of joyless Joy, and his name's Bobby, so surely he should be lovely) assures me that there's no way I can get them on using these computers, so we'll have to find an internet cafe at some point. Going to try and go to the Getty Centre this afternoon - 2 bus rides! - so I'll update this again when I have more news. Miss you all x