The OC Fair

From the moment we walked through the entrance gate and were offered our free Bible, I sensed our visit to the Orange County Fair was going to be great fun.

A quick look at the fair programme confirmed my suspicions - “Let’s Eat”, the brochure proclaimed depicting a 1950’s toddler stuffing her face with a hearty slice of apple pie.  It was going to be an afternoon of pure Americana.

Forget those prize winning animal shows from yesteryear – a modern day county fair isn’t so much about whose got the smartest pig but how much pig you can eat.

There were plenty of animals on show at the fair, but they were housed in barns in a section entitled From Farm to Fork. No prizes for guessing where they were off to next.

One enterprising young farmer, charging a $1 for the public to view his heavyweight steer, had made a sign helpfully converting the weight of his cow into something your average American could easily understand - burgers.  Yep a 500 lb steer equals 1000 burgers.  I was starting to feel hungry already.

There were over 125 food retail outlets listed in the fair programme, and besides all the regular American fast food favourites, other culinary delights on offer included Deep Fried Butter and Chocolate Covered Bacon.  How about a battered Snickers bar? 

The OC Fair was definitely not the place to be if you need to lower your cholesterol – simply inhaling the deep fat residues vaporizing in the air would probably have piled on a few hundred calories.

I wouldn’t recommend a visit either if you were concerned about animal welfare.  We by-passed a booth inviting us to pay another $1 to see the world’s biggest Clydesdale horse; and the one next door where for another $1 we could view a 13 ft alligator – both exhibits in obviously rather confined quarters.  I was half expecting the next booth to be the bearded lady or the world’s tallest man, but thankfully no, although at the other end of the fair, in scenes that were highly reminiscent of a travelling Victorian circus, we could have paid $10 to ride an elephant.   Despite the notice informing the public that all proceeds would go elephant conservation in Africa, I personally would have liked to conserve the poor old thing that had to trudge around the OC Fair with large groups of Americans swaying on its back.

Eager to escape the smell of 100 smoking turkey legs on the “world’s biggest BBQ” we headed into the exhibition Hall, where all manner of weird and wonderful crafty creations were on display.  If only I had known such opportunities existed, I too could have entered the “Best Page from a Scrapbook” contest.  How inadequate do I now feel storing my photographs in cyber space knowing that I have missed the chance to have my personal memories preserved forever as Best In Show?

Amongst the mounds of woodwork, artwork, photographs, cakes and tapestries, my favourite section was the table setting competition.  If like me you think a well laid table consists of matching cutlery and an unchipped wine glass think again – if you really want to impress your guests then this was definitely the place to come and be inspired. 

We decided against joining the line for the twenty minute tooth whitening extravaganza or staying late to watch the Alaskan pig race (I wonder what fate awaits the poor creature who finishes in last place?) The teenagers had had enough of being tossed and turned around at high speed on extreme carnival rides so our day at the OC Fair was done.  Despite all that food on offer I was still feeling peckish and was delighted to find a stall by the exit gate selling slices of fruit.

Deep fried of course.

The Devil's Postpile

At the end of our stay in Yosemite we headed to Mammoth.  I’d promised myself we would go and see it “naked” after being snowbound there at Christmas.   

Mammoth Mountain had 55ft of snow this year – the most snow in all of America.  The ski slopes finally closed on 4 July.

One of the sights I wanted to see in Mammoth was the Devil’s Postpile which is one of those weird Giant’s Causeway type things – hexagonal pillars of stone created 1000’s of years ago during some major volcanic eruption.

Some enterprising 19^th century industrialist had wanted to blow the whole thing up to create a dam across a nearby river to further his mining interests, and the government of the time were quite prepared to let him – Americans are never ones to let environmental issues spoil the opportunity to make a few fast bucks.  Fortunately a plea from local conservationists directly to the then US President succeeded in preserving this geological wonder for bus loads of modern day hikers to explore.

You can’t drive to the Postpile – the powers-that-be have decreed the road too precarious so you have to take the shuttle bus.  As we drove along the shuttle driver insisted on dishing out some facts about the various hikes we could take along the route.

The hike to the Devil’s Postpile was 0.4 from the ranger station, she informed us, then it was 0.4 miles back. That’s a total of 0.8 miles round trip. You don’t say.

The hike to nearby Rainbow Falls was 1.3 miles from the trail head. Downhill.  Guess how far it was coming back? (Don’t worry if you’re struggling, this is America so you won’t have to use your initiative – the bus driver is going to tell you anyway.)  It’s 1.3 miles back – oh and it’s uphill too.  And yes, she did go on to tell us how far that was on a round trip. Feeling like a party of Elementary School Children we hopped off the bus and set off on our hike.

You don’t have to spend too long in America to realize that the majority of the population don’t like to think too much for themselves; they like rules and they like to be told what  to do.  Nothing can be left open for interpretation.  Things have to do exactly what they say on the tin and everything is very literal. I’m sure there were an awful lot of people on that bus who were very reassured to hear that if they went downhill one way it was uphill coming back.  Personally I could have worked that one out for myself but there you go. Different culture.

And talking of cultural differences, that evening we went out for a meal in a local restaurant where we were served by a very friendly waitress who had been blessed, as so many Americans are,  with a built in megaphone for a voice. The food was delicious but by the time we left we knew every combination on the menu off by heart. In addition, I’ve lived over here long enough now to know better than to dress up especially when dining out of town, but at least I can manage to put on a clean pair of jeans. The couple behind us couldn’t even be bothered to take off their coats and remove their baseball caps.

Whilst in Mammoth we took the Panoramic Gondolar to the very top of Mammoth Mountain (that’s a 15 minute ride up and believe it or not, a 15 minute ride back - downhill of course).   11,000 ft up and there was still snow on the ground but the snowborders of winter have been replaced by kids on mountain bikes, whizzing back down the dirt trails. 

We also paid a visit to the weird and wonderful Mono Lake – rivers leading into the lake were diverted to transport fresh water to the growing city of Los Angeles back in the 1940’s, causing Mono Lake to silt up, destroying the habitat of thousands of local wildlife and causing rather strange coral like calcifications to emerge out of the lake.  These "tufa's" rise up out of the water like something from a science fiction film.

Thankfully those darned conservationists have got their way again - the Los Angeles water board has now been forced by new legislation to refill the lake. Heaven forbid some of those garden sprinklers keeping the grass green in Beverly Hills might have to be switched off.

The Big Country

Every once in a while we go somewhere in America and I find myself thinking it ain’t such a bad place after all.  I almost feel like I’m being disloyal to my blog when I say that, but take away the people, the politics, the fast food, crap TV and LA traffic because I can knock those to my heart’s content, but even I can’t fault the landscape.  Sometimes there is no other word to describe it other than stunning.

Yosemite National Park is a six hour drive from LA and it really is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever visited.  The scenery is breathtaking.  The view from the top of the 9000 ft Glacier Point is spectacular – the magnificent El Capitan Rock basked in sunlight, the impressive Half Dome, a huge mound of solid rock that looks like someone has literally sliced it in half; massive waterfalls thundering over granite cliffs and way down in the green valley below the Merced River, meandering through meadows; it was like looking down onto one of those picture perfect model villages complete with matchbox cars and airfix boats.

Of course there is a downside to all this wondrous beauty – Yosemite gets very busy; the hike up and down to Vernal Falls – one of Yosemite’s must-do’s according to our guidebook and obviously everyone else’s – was like trying to make your way along Oxford Street on a busy Saturday afternoon – on the vertical of course.  Unfortunately just a week or so beforehand three hikers had stepped out into the raging water at the top of Vernal Falls (why?) and had been swept over the 300 ft high waterfall never to be seen again. The hike to the top is pretty spectacular and definitely precarious.  We quit about three quarters of the way up – the spray from the waterfall covers the roughly hewn stone steps making them decidedly slippery when wet; there’s no handrail to cling onto and whilst I felt confident enough about making it up, what really worried me was coming down – especially as the path was getting so crowded.

I’m not a seasoned hiker and as I’ve spent most of my life living at sea level and I mean sea level – until moving to California I’d always lived within a 10 minute walk to the coast – the high altitude in Yosemite was definitely putting us all slightly off kilter.  Despite all that extra time I’d spent in the gym there was an awful lot of heavy breathing going on.  And whilst I have spent most of my life living by the sea, I’m not a sailor either as the rest of my family will happily confirm.  Hiring a raft to paddle down the river might well have seemed like a good idea at the time but put me in an inflatable rubber dinghy with a paddle and a bulky life jacket in the middle of a fast flowing stream and I’m really not the best company. Nor am I a camper – my camping days are long gone – but accommodation in Yosemite is at a premium and the majority of visitors do camp, despite the bears.  Fortunately travelling in style is something I can do well, and I’d been lucky enough to secure a couple of nights at vast expense in a private log cabin complete with hot tub.  It was a great relief to head back at the end of an exhausting day to relax in the tub with a glass of champagne and set up for the evening’s bear watch.

Unfortunately the bears were not forthcoming; although plenty of mosquitoes were.  We did spot a mangy coyote sniffing its way along the road and the next morning as we headed out of the park through the gorgeous Toulumne Meadows, herds of deer sprang across our path. Snow capped mountains framed the backdrop as the babbling Toulumne River wound its merry way across fields filled with tiny alpine-like flowers and it seemed the ideal spot for a picnic.  But then I remembered those bears, maybe I wasn’t so keen on spotting one after all…. 

If you ever plan a trip to California I’d give Los Angeles a miss. Drive out of LAX and head up north. LA might well have all the gorgeous people but Yosemite National Park is natural beauty at its very best.

The Unanswered Question

Major book retailers Borders recently announced that it’s closing all its stores.  Well I’m not surprised.  We visited our local Borders a couple of weeks back just before the company made its public announcement and to be honest the place was a shambles. The shop floor was like a jumble sale and there was a very long line at the check out with just one sales assistant.

There was a second assistant at the desk but he couldn’t help because, as he explained to another customer, he was busy “de-magnitising some stock”.  Well I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only person who would have quite liked to de-magnitise him.  Anyway, he did grudgingly give up on his magnets to eventually help his colleague out and when it was our turn to pay he politely enquired on auto-pilot as they always do, had we found everything we wanted okay today? Of course the standard answer to this is always yes thank-you, but as it had actually taken us taken quite a while to find what we wanted, my husband politely pointed out that we had had some difficulty finding the right book. “But you’ve got what you wanted now”, was the assistant's answer to that, “so we’re all okay.”

Well what was the point in asking then?

That was when I really wish I had said:  Now listen here Magnet Boy, your store’s a complete mess, service is diabolical and no wonder everyone would rather download an e-book. But of course that would have been rude and I’m not a rude person but there are certainly times when all these American gratuitous pleasantries are quite frankly, pointless. Why bother asking the question if you’re not interested in the answer?

I feel the same when I’m always asked “how’s your day going?”. I’m never sure how I’m expected to respond – after all surely nobody really wants a blow by blow account of what I’ve been up to but on the other hand why should I always feel I have to mutter a polite “good, thank you” when in fact my day might well have been bloody awful? Why is there the need over here for all this superfluous conversation? Can’t I just pay my money in peace and get out of the shop? Is that really too much to ask for? 

Maybe this is a suitable question for the book of “62 Unanswered Questions.”  We spotted this little gem whilst standing in that long line at Borders.  Americans have endless patience and as I’ve said before, you have to learn to use that time wisely.  Waiting in line presents the perfect chance to reflect, meditate and flick through items on the Sale Table – the usual array of totally useless publications which you can understand perfectly why nobody has ever wanted to buy.

"62 Unanswered Questions" included such eternal dilemma's as "Should you urinate in front of another person?" (which surely begs the 63rd question of why on earth would you ever want to?) but the book that really caught my eye was "Knit Your Own Dog". Well I can knit and as anyone who reads this blog regularly knows, I do get a tad bored left to my own devices all day, so this sounds like the perfect solution.  25 knitting patterns for re-creating the entire Kennel Club, everything from a Welsh Corgi to a Red Setter – in perfect miniature. It was fabulous!!

Unfortunately hubby was not so impressed and adamantly refused to fork out the requested $15 plus sales tax, but I did check it out on Amazon when I got home, where it sells for considerably less (another nail in Borders coffin). I'll definitely be bearing this one in mind next time I need to bulk up my order to qualify for super saver delivery.

And of course, not only would this book give me the opportunity to surround myself with a woolly menagerie of pedigree pooches, it would provide me with a whole range of superfluous conversation stoppers of my very own.  The next time a totally disinterested sales assistants asks “how’s your day going?”, personally I think: “Great thank-you – I’ve cast on a Pit Bull, stitched two legs on a Springer Spaniel and have just stuffed my first West Highland terrier" could be the perfect answer.