Dreamland - California '03 Pt1

I am staring at this blank page in the Holiday Inn in Santa Monica after a good night’s sleep on the two comfy queen size beds in room 511. It is seven a.m. Sue is on the phone to Annabel. The babies are in the dormitory that is room 513. Outside it is misty and more like the weather in Northern California. Rather pleasant in fact and perhaps a good thing from the point of view of imminent sunburn.

The flight was smooth as silk on Virgin. Sue sat in Business and we all sat in steerage with a constantly changing sixth aisle passenger from a group of rescheduled BA passengers whose airline was on strike. Most of the time it seemed to be two irritatingly obsessed lesbian Hispanics. Slightly loathsome in their arrogant self regard. I am getting too old for this. Smooth pickup of the corvair Dollar Dodge Caravan, as usual stiffed by the clerk when I insisted on an upgrade to a Grand Caravan which was not available to book on line. Then there was the insurance hike. $30 a day. Oh well. Smoothly cruised the grubby freeways to Santa Monica. It is less groomed here than Florida. And the southern end of LA is quite well-used looking. Santa Monica as nutty as ever. Out to eat at the 3rd Street Promenade. How quickly it all changes. The Chinese is gone, as it seems is the Gaucho Grille. Must check my notes. There are more fashion shops. It almost felt like being in Islington – hah. Sapporo and Borders abound. Ate in the Bistro. Good food at reasonable prices. A nutter performed as a miniature Elvis in a bizarre costume that concealed his legs making his own arms Elvis’s new legs. The desired end result was that he looked like a dwarf Elvis and writhed on the floor. Two songs per set. People gave him money and Japanese tourists had their photos taken with him. Sad really. And yet another example of the madness out here on the far edge of the enormous landmass. How far west can you go? Flying over the enormous brown earth you realise just how vast it is. The rocky outcrops of Montana and Wyoming looking uncivilised and reminding you at 30,000 feet how nature still runs the show. Further south man’s routes over the mountains of Nevada and through the salt flats of Utah are like insect tracks. In USA Today the problems with fancy cars are reported as spending more time in the garage than their owners want. Land Rover say it is because they have sold more cars than there are service bays for. Looking at the land from the air you become aware of how America is run. There is ample space left here for mile upon mile of new servicing bays. America is limitless still in its possibilities for expansion. No wonder this country is unbounded in its opportunities. In England our confinement determines our lack of opportunity. However a recent scientific report reminds us that climate change is definitely brought about by man’s achievements. The sky and atmosphere above the whole planet is not of infinite possibility for man’s use then. Also in the paper it shows troops returning from Iraq. Same old scene. It could have been Korea or WW2. Children hug battledress-0clad troops. America however was denied this celebration after Vietnam. Every war since has tried to expurgate this fall from glory. Some will never forget this. Me included.

Drove Sue to Wilshire for the first day’s do. We did LA in a day. Tail O’ the Pup, bandage for Jen’s wrist – as she’d fallen over in her room - then wandered up Rodeo hanging around while Niketown opened. Then up on Hollywood Boulevard to Hollywood & Highland Mall. Starbucks Frappacinos. This heat. Then up onto Mulholland Drive. So different up in the hills so smart and glamorous. Down to Sunset for Burgers at In N Out then quick thrash in Guitar World, viewed old Caddies across street, along Melrose, the coolest district of LA it seems, like Camden Town, and around the old RKO lot and Paramount then down to the Petersen and saw the new Rolls at the end of a great display of all Rolls's over the years... and collected Sue. Met her opposite number Malibu Stacy and Dan the techno man. Home to Santa Monica and an Italian across the street. Bed at ten. Spoke to Barb. Be there Saturday at one.Tomorrow it’s back to the beach.

Awake at 5ish. Read the late Sam Philips’ appraisal in USA Today. The man who invented rock and roll. Indeed. Plan to drive Sue to work then return and cycle off for a breakfast towards Venice. This afternoon will return to Melrose Avenue to find something for Barbara. I think the most interesting roads in LA so far are Melrose and Sunset. Its different this time always is when you are a little more familiar. There is a lot of it that is ugly but occasionally turning a corner will reveal real wonders like a street near Melrose with small Spanish houses and two wrecked Cadillacs outside. I suppose it is still the city of the 40’s that appeals to me most. For me, Raymond Chandler still stalks these mean streets.

Drove Sue in to Wilshire returned on Venice Boulevard. Laundry, then out on bikes to Venice. Children in sea. Back and drove to East LA to Tommy’s Hamburgers. Small shack stuffed with Mexicans. You eat standing in the car park. Too much chilli. Back to Melrose bought Barbara a T-shirt of Lennon. They wanted $400 for one of the Beatles. Had trendy Starbucks in Melrose and posed. Picked up Sue. Home on Pico. Where to tonight? Chinese?

Well not Chinese as it turned out. We walked with much protest up to Wilshire and attempted to get into P F Chang’s as indeed we had two years ago. It was bustling with the chattering classes and there was an hour wait. We would have been deaf. So back into Third Street and into the Gaucho. Twenty minute wait then great steak and chips. Perfect. Into the Apple shop opposite to see the Apple users at large. So agreeable so happy. Young children moviemakers and writers abounding and using the beautiful tools. The usual cacophony as we sauntered down the hill and flopped into our beds.

Saturday. Bills under the door. And a journey south. Well attempted some sort of negotiation with the receptionists as the rate for our return in three weeks is $179 and they’d whacked us for up to $199 for this one. I ventured the idea that I thought $179 was the rate for the whole stay. The receptionist blanked me with a polite enquiry as to where I might be visiting for the rest of my stay in Southern California? No dice then. Solid traffic on the Freeway south and two hours later arrived at 31 Vista Encanta and there was Barbara busily making lunch for us and preparing to lend us her home again. We are astonished at her generosity of spirit. We chatter of all things Beatles war in Iraq and her friend Cindy whose 19-year-old has died of a drug overdose. Very sad. Tomorrow we will take Barb and Cindy for lunch at the Jolly Roger in Dana Point. Spoke with Linda who’s in Palm Springs. She also generously invited us out there to stay as she has a spare room. So kind. I said these girls would really prefer to stay at the beach. She understood. We will have a barbecue with them – Linda and Rodger – a week on Tuesday, the 12th.Barbara left her flowers. Sue had a good idea to send her some more as a replacement by Interflora. Need her Arizona address.

Out to the beach. Very busy as it is Saturday. Hell parking. I went off to Ralph’s for a few basics. The full American Dream. So much choice and plump vegetables. Although there is a paucity of ingredients. I sense most people buy prepared meals. Collected the surferettes and returned. Hot dogs beer and all asleep on the floor at ten.

Up and doing laundry. Sorting out our stuff in the fridge. So wonderful to be here in a home in Southern California. The Surfing Finals from Huntington Beach are on the TV. I will have Tropicana Grovestand and an avocado for breakfast. As I keep saying, when I heard I Get Around on the radio in Yorkshire, I knew there was a better life out here.
Met Barb and Cindy for lunch at the Jolly Roger in Dana Point. Cindy a little subdued not surprising at the loss she has suffered. Gave Barb my tapes for the drive East. Endless chatter. Back to beach. Surfed. Strong tide. Shrimps at home with Buena Vista then bed.

Up, found Wal Mart after many wrong turns. Bought odds and ends. Out to the beach. Very hot. More surfing. Going all slightly lobster-ish. Back for a shower and then out for a new costume for Sue and at last her first trip to Ralph’s. Our stylish lives.

And the full impact of a day’s hot surfing dawns. Peggy and Amy in particular are burnt. No sun today. So off in the car south down the I-5 to San Diego, about and hour and a half including heavy traffic which seems to be a permanent feature on the I-5. Through the bleak moorlands of Camp Pendleton of which more later – which also resembles a drive across the Pennines along the M62 – in thickish mist. A sea fret. Along the coast near La Jolla which looks like a classic Californian beach with wide rolling surf, and back onto the freeway into San Diego. We head for the shopping mall Horton Plaza which is in the downtown area. Drove through the Gaslight region, which is probably better at night. There are a lot of Italian restaurants and a Hard Rock Cafe. Parked easily in the Horton Plaza carpark and as usual spent money in Claire’s Accessories, Gap, Levi’s’ and a drugstore. So very like the homelife of our own dear Islington. Lunched at Hard Rock. Strange to think these places are English. One unusual feature was to see John and Yoko’s wedding certificate on the wall. Surely a copy? Drove across town via the waterfront with huge liners lurking at the quay, to Old Town. This is an old Mexican settlement refurbished to resemble life in the mid 19th century. Charming if a little over stuffed with trashy giftshops. The villa in which an important family lived was quite beautiful with its elegant rooms with four poster beds and long dining tables and a shady courtyard full of wondrous cacti. On the dusty main street, you could easily visualise Clint Eastwood squinting at you, poncho thrown over one shoulder hand twitching for a gun.

A couple of wrong turns which the guidebooks mention and we were back on the I-5 north. San Diego looks slightly like San Francisco, only without the drama. There are hills but nothing by comparison and it is slightly down at heel. None of the grandeur and style of the northern city, but bustling and active all the same. On the road there are signs indicating fleeing Mexicans with children, probably wise as desperate illegally immigrating peasants may rush out of bushes in front of the unwary driver at any moment. However it was heavy traffic that forced us off the Freeway near Carlsbad, which pretends to look German with it’s fake half-timbering and neat gardens and then into Oceanside which is genuine down-home American. I suspect there is a good hot rod scene here, we were on the wrong day though. It is ordinary and not in any way gussied up. There were art deco movie houses and great neon. Wandered into Camp Pendleton hoping to be able to drive through. Not possible of course as it must occupy several hundred square miles of open terrain where the Marines can roam and shoot at each other. A polite but brisk young soldier recommended we “ Drive across to the two marines over there and they will guide you back to the Freeway.” They did. Tough young men on some kind of high alert, but I must say it seemed very easy to get in and out. Not like Britain at all, we are on a much higher sense of watchfulness. Considering that San Diego is home to the US Pacific Fleet and Camp Pendleton is but five miles up the coast I would have expected this whole area to be on some kind of maximum security. I notice that the car ads are all stressing the BHP of vehicles, as if power and the increasing size of these behemoth pickups and SUVs is some form of redress for the emasculation of having some A-rabs slam three planes into the heartland of America on 9/11. Let’s convince ourselves we are all-powerful again. The sleeping giant has awoken. (Interestingly there was a news item on Tv some days later in which it was reported that some vigilante groups are attacking SUV garage lots and deafcing vehicles because they are environmentally unfriendly. So there you have both sides of the story.)

South of San Clemente turned off to look at San Onofre surf beach. It is unlike any other beach in that there are no concession stands, no piers, no showers. It is a wild state park area which shuts at ten p.m. There is a huge RV park but on the seashore fine sand and dunes and long grass. Out on the water at the point fifty surfers sat on their boards occasionally making a run for the shore on a wave. Surfer’s paradise. We might come down for a day with a picnic. Five minutes later after a tortuous route back to the I-5 we were home. Cindy rang and is coming round Friday with some clothes for the girls. She seems to be very friendly and suggested we could park in her drive if we wanted to visit the Laguna Beach crafts fair.Hot dogs, Buena Vista and asleep on the floor again.

So one week into America and what do I feel? Very much at home as usual. In the San Clemente area there seems to have been a massive housing boom in the valleys behind Barbara’s. New roads and housing enclaves seem to roll out at an infinite pace. This is the on-the-ground reality that I saw from the air coming in to land at LAX. The evidence is long traffic tailbacks and more crowding on the

beaches. I’d say there are twice as many people here. Of course it could have something to do with the issue of Americans staying home and “ leaving those Europeans vacations to the Europeans”.
The main difference though to me seems to be in the cars. They are much beefier and butch looking than before and the predominant style seems to be SUVs and pickups. No one wants saloons any more. Why? They are surely not hauling gear and families around constantly? Most vehicles seem to be running around with one occupant. No it is as I suspect to do with post 9/11. A vehicle is now your last line of defence. You can haul your possessions or family to safety in one of these things that are so high off the ground that no A-rabs terrorist can reach you in there. There is a concept of preparedness in America as old as the country. It was there in the Minutemen from the time of Paul Revere where reservists would be able to be in fighting readiness inside of one minute to repel the British with muskets. The name of course came to be used in the missile defence system of the 60’s and 70’s. But I feel America has a deep sense of having let its guard down two years ago and now there is an almost ersatz sense of this available - through trenchant market research - in the products they buy, in particular these battering rams against the terrorist. I shall air this opinion on Rodger next week. But the irony is when you park in the neatly drawn lines in the San Clemente beach parking - after circling the park like eagles, swooping on empty spaces like defenceless prey - the vehicles scarcely fit side by side. I have had to slither through the gap of the sliding door my probably plumper butt rubbing against the metallic flanks of some giant crewcab pickup. These are vehicles that an entire firm of small builders could use to transport their equipment and manpower to a site in the middle of a muddy field, but here they’re being used as runabouts. No wonder there is a faint brown haze where the blue of the ocean meets the gold of the sky. It is all no doubt a result of the “lobbying” – bribery – that the automotive industry has done on the Bush presidency. Oil and autos rule here more than ever, and if they can get a war going too…? Who knows what riches these politicians might reap? Still it has happened before. GM bought the Los Angeles tram system in the thirties purely to shut it down, which they promptly did. People had a perfectly good mass transit system but that didn’t suit the auto-makers. Now everyone has to drive, or more accurately sit in traffic jams all down the California coast. Meanwhile over in London temperatures soar to a man made 39C. Kyoto agreement? Forgetaboutit.