A Ride on the Wild Side

As well as being home to the glitzy glamour of Hollywood celebrities in their swanky Beverly Hills’ mansions, LA is also home to many lost souls.  Any major city will have its fair share of socially disadvantaged, the mentally ill and people down on their luck. Unfortunately LA seems to have more than most. 

American society isn’t a particularly compassionate or caring society. It’s the land of opportunity, self-responsibility, and every man for himself.  It’s a sad fact of life that the pace out here is fast and not everyone will keep up.  You need a certain income to maintain a nice lifestyle and it’s very easy to fall by the wayside. I’m a relatively sane woman, but I can totally appreciate how easy it is to lose your marbles and unfortunately there are an awful lot of marbles over here that have been lost. 

It would appear that most of these poor souls tend to take refuge on LA’s public transport system, which rather than being a viable, safe and sensible alternative to taking your car anywhere, has basically become a last resort.

When I once bemoaned to an American friend that the teenager had to be driven everywhere to meet up with her friends, where as back in the UK she was more than happy to hop on a local train or a bus, my friend replied “have you seen the people who use the bus?” A couple of years ago the Pasadena City Council sent us an information leaflet containing some useful tips for staying safe over the holiday period; one of which began with “if you have to use public transport, try and avoid sitting next to anyone…” Hardly encouraging words to make you want to hop on a train.

Most Americans drive – gas is cheap and towns are  spread out. You need to get yourself from A to B and even when your car has 200,000 miles on the clock and bits falling off it, you don’t need any kind of certification to keep it on the road.  There's no nice way to say it but sadly the people who use public transport tend to be those who lack the physical or mental means, as well as the financial ability,  to run a car. 

Knowing that the roads were going to busy on Long Beach Grand Prix day and parking expensive, we didn’t really let the teenager take control, we let the train take the strain.  We’ve gone from pleasant posh Pasadena into Union Station before, that’s one commuter train, and it’s been okay.  We were travelling to Long Beach in broad daylight. How bad could it be?

LA’s light rail system is cheap – $5 let’s you ride unhindered all day, which is why it has become such a good deal for the homeless seeking shelter.  The metro system traverses some of LA’s most deprived and run down areas - abandoned industrial sites, run-down housing units, gang territory.  Buildings are covered in graffiti, the streets are strewn with litter. This is when you realize the concrete encased freeway is the scenic route. 

Americans do have this habit of always talking to you – this could be seen the sociability gene which we British tend to lack, or alternatively a hyper-activity disorder, but quite often it’s a ploy to convert you to whatever wacky religion they happen to practice. Trust me when you’re sat on an LA Metro train, you  don’t want anyone to so much as make eye contact with you, let alone speak to you.   

 A two hour train journey in the company of America’s great underclass (don’t believe the hype for one minute that this is a classless society) and I’m well and truly converted – back to my car.

Behind the Wheel

Last week was full of exciting events. First we had some rain – that always causes a bit of a stir, especially as late as April. Secondly the TV receiver was back in time to catch Whitechapel on BBC America - the highlight as far as I am concerned of the viewing week, and thirdly the teenager passed her driving test! She’s now officially US licensed.

 A mere ten minute drive around the block with an examiner and that’s it, she can hit the road! How did she do it? Well it’s all down to her mother of course – who else?  Who sat there patiently encouraging, guiding, and leading by example? Demonstrating the correct maneouvers, stressing the importance of the indicator and the need to slow down and stop at a red light. 

Over here the onus is on parent to teach their young to drive.  Six hours of professional instruction is all that is required, the rest, well it’s entirely up to mom and pop. I’ve seen the way most moms and pops drive and quite frankly, it’s frightening. Half of these people should never be allowed to drive a car themselves, let alone pass on their skills to impressionable young adults.

More seriously, another downside of learning to drive in the US is lack of L plates. In the UK learner and newly qualified drivers are easily identified by a warning sign stuck on the car; other drivers know they are following a learner and generally make allowances for their mistakes and give them a wide berth.  LA drivers tend to be particularly aggressive and inconsiderate at the best of times, car horns regularly beep at you if you take more than a second to make a turn across traffic or hesitate at a light.  Naturally learner drivers tend to be more cautious and having someone impatiently sat on your bumper all the time does not enhance the learning (or teaching) experience!

Still we have decided to be generous and for our last couple of months in the US, we will let our teen take to the road by herself and drive – after all she wont be able to do it when we get back to the UK until she is 17, so she might as well enjoy it whilst she can.

I was delighted to discover that we were entitled to a car insurance discount because she has good school grades.  Good grades are the be all and end all of the US education system, it doesn’t seem to matter about effort, or attitude, it’s that final little letter that counts. Although the clever kid discount worked for us, it does seem a little discriminatory.  What about those kids who aren’t always the brightest but who are conscientious and work hard? Shouldn’t they be entitled to a diligence discount instead? No wonder parents put so much pressure on their kids to get the A grades; it’s not just the college credits they need to accumulate,  there’s a financial incentive as well. 

Another surprisingly sensible Californian law is that under 18’s cannot carry passengers under the age of 20 during their first year of driving.  This does mean you can’t take your buddies to school, nor can you transport a distracting gaggle of giggling girlfriends anywhere. Definitely a good idea.  There’s plenty of other people over here who I would also liked to see banned from carrying passengers but unfortunately most of them already seem to have jobs driving cabs or super shuttle vans to the airport.

The final excitement of the week was attending the Indy Car Racing Grand Prix at Long Beach.  It was great fun - the screeching of rubber on hot concrete; the roar of the engine, the thrills and spills of driving around the city streets at breakneck speed - and that was just the journey down there. I knew it was a mistake letting the teenager offer to drive…..

Out of Service

Here’s a dilemma.  The AT&T receiver box has just died on us. That means no TV.  

You think I wouldn’t be too bothered, after all I’m no great fan of US TV, but after a while it’s amazing what you get used to. I find myself missing that “comfort TV”, programmes you can dip in and out of whilst doing the ironing, nothing too complex to tax the brain.

Comedy shows like Friends, Scrubs or The Big Bang Theory, which play  on a continuous loop – that’s comfort TV.  Yes I know I’ve seen the episode before, often in the same week, but it’s familiar territory; as is the home channel, HGTV, and the opportunity to nose around other people’s property. Another favourite is the cooking channel.  During the day I can sometimes catch a Nigella Express or a Jamie at Home, although I think Jamie Oliver is now banned in the US after daring to suggest fresh veg should be included in school dinner menus (a crazy idea that made him a hero in the UK but the devil incarnate out here).  Far more likely to find the Queen of Cholesterol, Paula Dean, tossing something into her deep fat fryer  than poor Jamie telling us all how to grow our own greens.

Like putting on a pair of well worn slippers, PBS will inevitably by showing Doc Martin at some point during its schedule, usually followed by behind the scenes with Doc Martin, the making of Doc Martin and our chance to catch it again Doc Martin. PBS is always a treat, despite the overdose of Martin Clunes, because it's commercial free. It is also home to Masterpiece Theatre, currently showing everything ever written by Charles Dickens and produced by the BBC. Dickens you might think, wow that's intellectual! All those sub-plots, a confusing array of characters with tongue-twisting names, all those accents! Never fear, Masterpeice have come up with Dickens for Dummies, each episode is introduced and the plot carefully explained - no concentration skills required.

But it is because of Charles Dickens that I insisted the AT&T box would have to be replaced. Live without TV for a few weeks? No great hardship! But what about Little Dorrit?  Do Amy and Arthur get together in the end? I have become addicted - it's like watching a soap.

A simple phone call to AT&T should do the trick!  Speak to someone, explain the problem and request a replacement receiver, after all we are on a contract. Well speaking to someone was the main hurdle.  When we did finally reach the technical support helpline, it’s sole automated instruction was to unplug the receiver and re-boot it, then to press 1 when the lights started to flash.  Our machine had long died a death - it's lights were never going to flash but failure to flash was not an option.  Surely a technical support line, however automated, should be able to offer more than one piece of advice? Well yes eventually it did, it told us we were taking too much time and should call back later.

We did persist, eventually found a human, and a new box was on its way. A few evenings later I found myself once again flicking aimlessly through an uninspiring selection of 300 + TV channels, the mindless drivel of umpteen shopping channels, OTT talent shows, lightweight local news, Hollywood gossip, trigger happy cops and endless re-runs of Two and a Half Men. As for Little Dorrit, well that appears to have been replaced mid-series by Great Expections.  I knew I should have just gone and bought myself a copy of the book.....

The Wine Tasting Tour

The main aim of our trip up the scenic Pacific Coast Highway was to visit the town of Paso Robles and partake in a spot of wine tasting. Paso Robles is the centre of Southern California’s wine country.  Being a little older and wiser than we were last time we paid a visit to a vineyard, we left the teenager at home and booked a wine-tour.  No driving involved.  We were lucky, it was early in the season and a weekday, and we had exclusive use of our driver who was going to be at our beck and call for the whole afternoon.

Lloyd was a former highway patrol man who now provides a similar service in keeping drunks off the road working as a part-time wine-tour guide.  We left him in charge of the decision making and spent a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon visiting three different wineries – one the traditional, one the more modern, and the final one quite unique – there were no vines.  Yes the last wine tasting was held in a private house of an enterprising couple who decided although they wanted to produce their own label wine, they couldn’t face the hassle of growing their own grapes.  What a brilliant idea! Why haven't I come up with something like that?! It was truly inspirational – Dave & Lynne buy grapes from other local vineyards, employ an experienced wine mixer and decide what flavours they like.  They then bottle, label and sell their exclusive wine direct on the internet or from their own home.

The wine tasting was held in the conservatory and Lynne paired each tasting with her favourite cheese.  The family's pet dog and the honeymooning school teachers from Arizona who were staying in the adjoining guest house soon became our new BFF’s.We really didn't want to leave but on the other hand, how paralytic do you want to get at 4.00 pm in the afternoon?

The Paso Robles countryside has some amazing scenery – lush green rolling hills with livestock grazing on the slopes.  This isn’t just wine country, it’s cowboy country too.  Paso Robles is full of shops selling hats, boots, saddles and stuffed road-kill, and in the evening the local bars came alive with the twang of that good ol' country music.  This is small town America, probably the height of boredom for anyone who has to live there under the age of 21 and definitely not the place for vegetarians. It was very much a case of how do you like your beef?

Paso Robles used to be famous for its natural mineral water spring and mud baths, until the townsfolk got fed up of the smell of sulphur infiltrating into the air and capped the well under several tons of concrete in the 1970’s.  The Paso Robles Inn has since re-drilled the well and has devised the use of herb beds to filter the water in an effort to reduce the unpleasant aroma.  I have to say the spa bath was lovely but we definitely needed a shower after and, despite the herb beds, the air definitely does still smell.

Still after 16 glasses of wine, who cares??

A Room With A View

Always moaning and full of gripes, haven’t I got a good word to say about this country? Well, every now and then yes.

Regular readers will know that we have recently been house hunting back in the UK  and I thought we’d found just the thing. However, after the weekend’s road trip up the Pacific Coast Highway I might be having a re-think.

We came across this quaint little place, perched on top of a hill, great views of the ocean, landscaped gardens, off street parking for several vehicles, indoor and outdoor pools – it ticked a lot of our wish-list boxes.  Dining room that seats 40, 56 bedrooms, 61 bathrooms – okay it was just a tad on the big side but it had some nice European features, a stone fireplace imported from a French Chateau, carved wooden ceiling from some Italian monastery, a few old 16^th century tapestries hung on the wall. Perhaps not quite to my taste but nothing I couldn’t  learn to live with. Probably the downside was the long commute but there is a private airstrip and a jetty for anyone arriving by sea, and of course the million tourists who visit the spot every year.

Yes we had found Hearst Castle – a totally fantastic OTT example of how to spend your money when you have way too much of it. Hearst Castle is the magnificent opulent home of multi-millionaire newspaper and media magnet William Randolph Hearst and is one of the US’s most visited tourist attractions.  Building work commenced in 1919 and was never finished in Hearst’s lifetime.  It was only when his descendents handed the estate over to the State of California as a national monument that work was finally completed.

Apparently Mr Hearst’s original plan was for a modest bungalow at the family’s 250,000 acre ranch but he obviously got a bit carried away.  This man didn’t just  go around the auction houses of Europe buying up antiquities to furnish his home – he bought up enormous architectural features and subsequently designed his “castle” around them. 

 

The house is a personal pleasure dome – built during Hollywood’s heyday most of Mr Hearst’s invited guests were in the movie business and were left to amuse themselves during the day  whilst he beavered  away upstairs in his study increasing his fortune.  As a Hearst house guest you would have complete run of the ranch with its two pools, tennis courts, billiard room, music room and private cinema at your disposal, as well as America’s largest private zoo.  Descendants of Mr Hearst’s zebra collection still roam the working ranch –luckily for the local population it was the zebras that escaped during the dismantling of the zoo and not the tigers or polar bears, whose concrete enclosures are still visible just a few yards from the house.

It was very easy to imagine sipping an early evening cocktail with a dashing young Clark Gable by the huge Romanesque outdoor heated pool, with its view across the rolling Californian countryside to the Pacific Ocean. 

Hearst Castle is a fine example of how the other half lived – very nicely thank you.