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Published: June 21st 2009
June 20th 2009 Soaking up the sun California has some pretty nice weather and some pretty stunning beaches to go with it. Such a combination has made sunbathing an inevitable priority for the past few days. Having ditched the idea of wearing a nun's habit - my original answer to foolproof sunscreen - I opted for SPF 30 and a skimpy new swimsuit. On my quest for a regular bikini it quickly became apparent that Californians go in for shockingly tiny swimwear; my regular underwear is bigger than most of the suits I found! Lying on the beach in my new attire, feeling the breeze come in off the ocean and listening to the waves crash against the shore has been just delightful. And necessary. You see, earlier this week in Santa Barbara I hired a bike and rode down the coast a ways discovering even more breathtakingly pretty beaches. Unfortunately in the process I strained a muscle in my lower back. The pharmacist recommended ibuprofen and rest until the pain stops. Thus more time on the beach. Shucks.
I liked Santa Barbara, or at least the parts I saw which was only the beach and around State Street.
Similar to Santa Cruz in many ways, Santa Barbara is a coastal college town with a slight alternative feel to it. No doubt there are also dingy bars and a meth problem, but I didn't happen on the less salubrious part of town. Instead, my impression was of a pretty, clean, wealthy town. With active residents: the boardwalk is full of people running, cycling, skating and skateboarding. For my fitness fix, I joined half the town at Yoga Soup for the most popular yoga class I have ever taken. Okay, there probably wasn't that many people but the room was packed, and it quickly became apparent why. The instructor was a bonafide hippy keen to share his love of yoga and share his worldly wisdom with us. Amongst other things I learnt that we must be true to our shape and that our breath is the only truth. I'm learning a lot on this trip! By the end of the class everyone was jumping around dancing. Just fantastic!! Having learnt the truth I spent the rest of my time in SB with a group of English people from the hostel reviewing the nicer bars in town. Sandbar on State Street
was a favourite, particular on reggae night! One of the party was a lovely woman, Zoey, from London. She's from Victoria in London; I didn't think it was possible to come from Victoria. Her voice and manner of speaking was an exact double of Vicki Pollard. Yeah but no but yeah but no but yeah but seriously the funniest thing I've heard in a long time.
The big smoke Or should I say smog? Or is it just lingering fog? A fine haze shrouded the Los Angeles coastline as I drove into the city from Malibu. I stopped overnight in one of the northern districts of L.A., Santa Monica. I'll hold on the details as Alex and I will be back here on Sunday for a few nights. Leaving the hostel on Thursday I threw caution to the wind, switched off the GPS and just followed my instincts as to the direction I needed to go in to get to my next destination, Laguna Beach, at the southern edges of L.A. It was a fun game, leading me through some random parts of town. Wish I could tell you where I ended up, but let's say I stumbled
across pretty middle class neighbourhoods with manicured lawns and picket fences, turned a corner and found myself driving past stretches of rundown apartment complexes interspersed with groups of electrical stores, adult stores, used car lots and fast food restaurants. It was fascinating to see how the city changes from one street to the next; very much like London.
It was also really interesting to see the communities living in the different neighbourhoods. I have been struck by the substantial migrant (be it first, second, third generations) populations from central and south America, South East Asia and the Indian subcontinent. In my naive mind, there has been a corresponding absence of African-Americans on my travels so far. Not sure what I had been expecting. Nonetheless, as elsewhere in the world, it is migrants who you see working in KFC, cleaning the hotels, picking crops in the fields.
The O.C. The last three days I have spent in Laguna Beach. Well, I have slept here at least. I am staying at the most beautiful hotel with beds wider than I am tall. Seriously, I could fit all the hotel's guests into my bed alone. I have also eaten breakfast here.
Doesn't sound that exciting, I guess. I eat breakfast every morning. But never before have I eaten breakfast to someone I have a girl crush on! Yesterday morning I went down to breakfast to find myself at a table next to Ginnifer Goodwin (an actress you probably haven't heard of). In short, I hyperventilated through breakfast trying not to stare at the stunning woman sitting not a few feet from me; she is even more beautiful in real life. Now, back to reality...
The rest of my time here has been spent revisiting my parents' old stomping ground between L.A. and San Diego. Sitting by the pool my first evening here, the military helicopters (you know the kinds with two sets of rotors?) flying by in the distance reminded me just how close I was to Camp Pendleton, where my father was stationed for many years. The next day I drove down and took a shot at being let on to the base without an I.D. card. I knew they wouldn't let me on, but couldn't resist the opportunity to flirt with a young marine - what woman could resist a polite, clean-shaven, tanned, uniformed young man (not to
mention the thought of the body under the uniform!)?!? I received the expected response, 'Sorry, ma'am but we can't just be letting anyone on base, there are things in there that could get you killed!'. Of course he said it all with a dazzling smile and wonderful southern drawl. It's being called 'ma'am'; it gets me every time. Shame I couldn't have just taken him with me.
That little detour over, I continued south to Carlsbad on the off-chance my mom's friend and boss of long ago, Jane, would be at home. My gamble paid off big time! Literally. Since I'm not a huge fan of the theatre and there were no musicals on, yesterday evening Jane and I hit a local casino. Obviously not literally because that would have been a painful and pointless thing to do. No, we drove for a couple of hours through Escondido (two blocks of which we got to know intimately thanks to an awful traffic jam) to a Native Indian reserve, halfway up a mountain in the middle of nowhere where we found a huge casino. Jane's friend gave her directions, so it's not like we just happened upon it. For being new members we were given a free pass to the buffet. Talk about a heart attack waiting to happen. I have never seen so much food in one place. And I finally saw some of the obscenely obese Americans we hear about at home. That's where they are all hiding! Surprisingly to me, a lot of the patrons were of South East Asian origin. Not sure why, but they were coming in by the bus load. It was a very amusing evening, to say the least.
Today Jane sneaked me into Camp Pendleton. Really there was no actual sneaking. As Jane's husband was an officer in the Marines we were greeted on to the base with a snappy salute. The base is immense, housing almost 40,000 military family members. As such they have their own schools, gas stations, fire service, police force, museums (?!?), bowling alley, golf course. The list is endless. They also have a store just for 'emblematic gifts', where I indulged myself. I could be described as a walking advert for the Marines. I have these phases. My dad would be proud, no doubt; my mom amused. Or maybe
bemused? We also took in nearby Oceanside, where I think my parents lived at some time. Oceanside, Escondido, Temecula, all names that punctuated my childhood. It's been nice to come back here - I can certainly see why my mom enjoyed living here so much.
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Melanie
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Escondido
I lived in Escondido Village whilst in Palo Alto.