Catalina Island

It was time for another day out but rather than do a road trip we decided to take advantage of the fact that our teenage daughter was off on a theme park weekend with a school friend, so we took a boat trip to Catalina Island.

I had no idea before I came here that there were islands of the coast of California, but in fact there are 8 “Channel islands” and Catalina – Santa Catalina – is the biggest at approx 23 x 8 miles.  It’s a 22 miles  from Los Angeles and the crossing takes just over an hour on a Fast Cat.

I was very hopeful we might spot some whales on our trip.  This is the time of year when whales migrate northwards from Hawaii back to Alaska and they are supposed to be very easy to spot off the Californian Coast.  Last year we made the mistake of taking a whale watching trip on a rather blustery day and after two hours at sea being tossed up and down in a rather small boat, the teenager announced she was going to be throw up at the very moment 3 whales finally came into the view.  She spent the rest of the journey hanging over the back of boat, away from the view of the frolicking whales and has refused to set sail ever since (although she was quite happy to spend the weekend being tossed up and down on roller coasters at a theme park…..)

This time, taking no chances, I dosed myself up with sea sick tablets and we set forth across a mill pond. We did fly past something that could have been a whale, but as we approached Catalina it became apparent that this was dolphin territory.  They were everywhere.  Now presumably if you are one of the lucky 3,000 or so people who live on Catalina Island dolphins must be old hat, but if like me they are not something you see everyday then it really was one of those wow moments – wow, there’s a dolphin! Wow there’s another…and another….

Even as we stepped off the boat you could see them from the harbor – 5 or 6 at a time springing up out of the water.

 

Catalina is an absolute gem and if you ever get the chance to go there – do! The one and only town is the romantically named Avalon which has a distinctly Mediterranean feel. There isn’t a great deal to do but trek up the hills and take in the views but it’s a little piece of America where you can almost forget you are in America. There’s no commercialism - no McDonalds, no Subway, no Taco Bell; not even a Starbucks.  There are no cars – the locals drive around in golf carts which you can hire for $40 an hour and there are no big stores or high rise hotels. 

 

At the turn of the century Catalina was bought by William Wrigley of Wrigley’s spearmint gum fame.  He developed the island into a tourist destination during the 20’s and 30’s before the American military took over control of the island during the second world war.  In 1975 the Wrigley family donated 88% of the island to the Catalina Island Conservancy, a nonprofit corporation with a mission to "preserve and restore Catalina to its natural state in perpetuity so that future generations can continue to enjoy this unique part of California's heritage." And the conservancy has done a great job.  Catalina is extremely well preserved, totally unspoilt and undeveloped; a little haven of peace and tranquility that could be a million miles away from LA rather than just a mere 22.

 

I can imagine it must get pretty crowded in summer and there might well be a few “battles of the golf buggy” on Avalon’s tiny little roads, but over a light lunch of locally caught fish that had kindly hopped out of the crystal clear water onto my plate, I raised a glass of Californian Rose to Mr Wrigley and his family for having the foresight to preserve this beautiful spot for the enjoyment of everyone.

 

 

 

Sense of Humour Failure

It’s a well known fact that the British and the Americans do not share the same sense of humour – and never is that more apparent than when it comes to greetings cards.  You wouldn’t think something so simple could cause such a headache, but March is a particularly busy time for me on the birthday front and I need at least half a dozen cards for various members of the family. 

Last year, I was back in the UK for a week in February and having already sussed out that the American greeting card market left a lot to be desired, I purchased all my cards for the next couple of months whilst I was back home.  That’s almost like having an OCD in forward planning, but this year unfortunately I have no choice but to purchase my cards here.  If there was ever a time to become Martha Stewart and start home card making– this is it!

Shop bought cards seem to come in two categories –  those full of effusive OTT sentimental twaddle, or toilet humour.  There doesn’t seem to be an awful lot in between.

Cards for family members can’t just say Happy Birthday Dad, or Happy Birthday Mom – no they go  gushing on about how wonderful everyone is.  Of course I love everyone I’m sending a card to, but that doesn’t mean I want to send them a three page eulogy.  The alternative is the “Humorous” card – which really is not funny.  Trying to find a card you want to send to a friend or a more casual acquaintance is a total nightmare - most of the cards I find in the “Humorous” section I wouldn’t even send to my worst enemy – let alone someone I actually liked!

American card manufacturers seem to think sticking a picture of a wrinkly old person on a card will automatically have the recipient rolling around the floor laughing; I’ve seen cards that are blatantly ageist, sexist, racist and just downright revolting.  And as for those for sale under the category of “Humor for Her” does every woman approaching a 40^th birthday want to be reminded she is entering the menopause? No! There are other things in life to look forward to rather than a “hot flash” (that’s a hot flush to us Brits – a  flash is something completely different!!)

American humour seems to extend to body parts and bodily functions only.  Anything else doesn’t appear to enter the realms of their imagination.

Sometimes, when there is absolutely nothing else to do, we find ourselves watching episodes of America’s Funniest Video's on TV – the US version of You’ve Been Framed.  We’ve been here long enough now to be able to correctly identify the winning home video from the final three - it’ll always be the one with the child going to toilet, or the dog doing something unmentionable.  Where’s good old Harry Hill when you need him!

And back to the card issue - birthday cards are just a very small portion of the American card market – there is a card for absolutely everything and every eventuality.  Valentine’s Day Cards – “Happy Valentines Day to My Grandad” what is that all about?  And then of course, St Patrick Day Cards – why? Yes sure send one to all your cousins back in Ireland if you have to but do the rest of us need one?  Americans seem to have adopted the Patron Saint of Ireland as their very own and yes – you will get wished a “happy St Patty’s Day” as you walk around town on March 17th. Houses that last month were adorned with Valentine Day flags and wreaths are now decked with vivid green shamrocks and those “lucky” Irish leprechauns are suddenly springing up everywhere. 

According to Wikipedia, St Patricks’ Day is “one of the leading days for consumption of alcohol in the United States, and is typically one of the busiest days of the year for bars and restaurants. Many people, regardless of ethnic background, wear green clothing and items. Traditionally, those who are caught not wearing green are pinched affectionately.”

Well anyone who pinches me “affectionately” will certainly get more than they bargained for – especially if they catch me just after I've spent a futile two hours in a greeting card shop.

Now where did I put that glue stick?

Breaking News

Two or three times a week I head out on a morning walk.  This used to be a power walk but now it’s turned into more of a leisurely stroll – not because I've given up on my quest for fitness, but simply because there’s just far too much to see on route and it’s such valuable thinking time.  

This blog was born out of boredom – I wasn't brought up to be this desperate housewife with so much time on my hands. Yes it is a very useful way of letting off steam and letting everyone back home  know what I’ve been up to, recounting the joys and perils of life  here in LA. Sometimes I think nothing much happened this week, there's nothing interesting to report, but when I am out on my walks a random thought will pop into my head, and suddenly I’m inspired. Before I know it I’ve covered three miles and written six posts.

I have a very scenic route; I walk the last couple of residential roads before the terrain peters off into the mountains; it’s very quiet, the backdrop is beautiful and the houses expensive. It’s a very pleasant way to spend the first hour of the morning, but not the most exciting although I am always hopeful I might spot some of the local wildlife - a bear perhaps or at least a raccoon, but it’s usually just me and an assortment of Mexican gardeners. 

Occasionally I’ll pass another walker or a jogger, and since I’ve recently deviated my route further up into the foothills, I’ve started to see more dog walkers too.  This is very encouraging – most of the dogs down in town don’t get out for much of  a walk – most of them are carried under the arm or in a handbag.  It seems quite significant that as the houses have got larger  so has the size of the dog.

I did pass a mansion the other morning with a very large German Shepherd  dog prowling on the front drive – fortunately behind locked gates.  It was decided unfriendly despite the snazzy bandana around its neck, barking as I approached and baring very large pearly white teeth (dog orthodontics?).  The next day I took the same route and spotted this dog on its own out in the road.  At first glance it could have been a coyote, but then I recognised the red bandana and thought, no, too well dressed to be a coyote, so I decided not to take any chances and headed off down a side street.  That’s one good thing about modern midtown America – it’s all built on a grid.  Take a left, then left again and you’ll get back to wherever you originally came from.  It does make life a lot easier if somewhat predictable.

  

Of course the reason I'm telling you about this total non-event is that yes – it really is the most exciting thing that happened to me this week, but judging by local LA TV news standards, it is actually quite a newsworthy item. Recent headlines on the local morning news have included pet dog lost down storm drain, gust of wind blows over wheelie bin and bear stuck in a tree. I think “Stylishly attired guard dog threatens innocent power walker” seems to fit in quite nicely.

You may think I’m joking, but unfortunately I’m not.  On a day on when 145 people died in an earthquake in New Zealand the lead item on the local LA morning news was Justin Bieber’s haircut.

It's not me living in the bubble.

A Trip to the Flicks

We are very lucky here in Pasadena to have an abundance of movie theatres on our doorstep.

The closest to us is the rather quaint original 1930’s “Laemmle’s playhouse” - an architectural gem that specialises in showing low budget and international films.  It only has 7 (that's tiny by American standards) screens which are all rather small and intimate.  There's an afternoon off-peak rate of about $8 which is an absolute bargain and it’s just $4 for OAP’s. Knowing how those Americans just love getting value for money, I suppose we really should have known better than to go and to watch The Kings’s Speech at 2.00 pm on a Saturday afternoon.

It’s actually quite hard to catch British movies over here and despite the fact that The Kings Speech is winning so many accolades, it was only showing in Pasadena at Laemmle's Playhouse, so as we took our seats near the front of the screen  prepared for a neck aching experience, it became apparent it was going to be a pretty tight fit to cram everybody in.

We were joined in the next seats by two elderly American ladies – one of whom must have been partially sighted and the other deaf.  I say this because one insisted on describing to the other exactly what was on the screen – presumably in case her friend couldn’t see it for herself; and the other insisted on repeating  back to her friend everything that was being said – presumably in case she hadn’t heard. I don’t think one scene passed without one of them making some sort of comment to the other about it.

I don't think I've ever felt more like giving someone a kick - but of course I didn't because I'm far too polite and well behaved for that - instead I'll just give it a quick mention in my blog.  All this niceness I've been exuding the past couple of weeks is starting to wear a bit thin; sometimes you just have to tell it like it is  - publish and be damned!!

Why do Americans find it so hard to stop talking and keep quiet? And sit still for more than 5 minutes.....

There was so much fidgeting and moving up and down that I was actually quite glad we were sat only a few rows from the front. People were constantly getting up to visit the restrooms – which wasn’t totally surprising considering most of them had consumed two gallons of coke and a bucketful of popcorn that would have fed an African orphan for at least a week. And of course, Americans aren’t used to having to sit and concentrate  on anything longer than 10 minutes anyway without stopping for a commercial break.  I’m sure that’s why so many kids today have got the attention span of a gnat - even the national sports out here have those continual stoppages and timeouts - American football, basketball, baseball - bite size amounts of play followed by quite literally bite size breaks for advertising and fast food refills! No wonder soccer hasn't caught on - what you play for a whole 45 minutes non stop without a break?

Then of course, the other annoying habit which seems perfectly acceptable out here is screen hopping.  Once the movie you’ve actually paid for has finished, you can just go and disturb everyone else half way through another film, and if that one isn't to your liking, you can just get up and go and find a third or a fourth film to watch. Why not disrupt as many people as possible?

And talking of disruptions, at the Gold Cinema in Pasadena, you can have a three course meal with wine brought to your side as you sit and watch your film.  We haven’t been to this cinema yet, and I'm not sure we ever will, yes I like going out for a meal and yes I like going to the cinema, but do I want to do them  both at the same time? Not sure about that - and of course food, drink, mega sized flat screen, comfy armchair.....ZZzzzzzzz. I'm pretty sure my husband wouldn't be the only one asleep well before the end of the film!!

But as for the King’s Speech, I loved it of course, despite the interruptions, and if Colin Firth doesn’t win that Oscar there really is no justice in the world – or at least not in Hollywood!

The Things That Dreams Are Made Of

So what do I like best about living in America? What are the things that make me want to pinch myself and say wow, is this really happening to me? Is this real?

Well first and foremost my favourite thing definitely has to be the  weather – it’s warm; it rarely rains and even now in the winter when it might get down to 4 or 5 degrees at night it still manages to get up to a balmy 19 or 20 degrees during the day.

I like the fact that my husband has a convertible car and we can drive around with the roof down – regularly.

I like the fact that I have the time to sit in the sunshine, read a book, go for a swim.

I like having the opportunity to travel and explore new places – places I’ve only ever read about or seen on a map, even places like Las Vegas.  Okay I didn’t actually like Las Vegas that much, but I’m still glad I’ve had the opportunity to go there. I loved San Francisco and travelling up and down the Pacific Coast Highway – and as for Hawaii, total paradise!  Sat on a tropical beach; sipping a Mai Tai and watching the sun go down.  That was a real pinch-me I’m going to wake up moment.
 

I like the wild life –the chance to see whales and dolphins; seals, sea lions, swim with turtles and tropical fish; even just watching the hummingbirds fluttering on my balcony can be mesmerizing.

I like living Pasadena.  I like the scenery -  I like lying in my bed and being able to look out on those mountains.  Pasadena has soul, character, history, it’s a town with a heart and a café culture.

I've made new friends, people to sit with and get to know in those street cafes, and I've made international friends, not just Americans. Southern California is a hotchpotch of nationalities and is totally multicultural; there really is someone here for everyone – even me!!

 And, as for the Americans themselves, I like the fact that they can be so polite, well mannered and  eager to please. I admire their boundless enthusiasm and commitment.  I like their honesty and respect for other people’s property – yes you can leave stuff out on your front porch and it will still be there in the morning.  I love being amazed at what I can spot as I go on my morning stroll – just this week I took a different route and passed a mannequin dressed as a cheerleader on a front lawn! Great stuff!

I admire their patriotism – we just don’t have that in the UK because it’s so not politically correct – unless there’s a royal wedding coming up of course.  Americans are proud to be American. They stand to attention and sing their national anthem, recite the Pledge of Allegiance and wave that flag at every opportunity.

And even though I know I'm not totally compatible with all things American I do like endless soft drink refills in restaurants, generously proportioned parking spaces, and yes, every girl’s dream - I like shopping. Oh I know that may sound incredibly shallow but I've got a teenager daughter and I  like the fact that I can go to Abercrombie & Fitch and the prices are the same in dollars as they are in pounds. I like the fact that Gilly Hicks regularly has 40% off sales; I like browsing around the surprisingly tasteful household goods in Crate & Barrel and I really do like clothes shopping in  Forever 21.

Forever 21, which I believe has just opened its first branch in the UK, is a teenage fashion store, but  I actually think it's really aimed at 40 something mums - every time we have been in there a 1980’s soundtrack  is blasting out across the shop floor. My daughter can shop until she drops and  I can relive my youth listening to The Cure, Duran Duran and the Human League.

These really are the things that dreams are made of.

A Good Year For The Roses

Now I’ve never been a great fan of roses – in fact I had them growing in my garden back in England when we first moved into our last house and I actually dug them out.  Too much hard work – all that deadheading and pruning; too high maintenance for what was going to be my low maintenance (although I don’t actually think there is such a thing) natural, native woodland garden.  Roses are labour intensive, and in England, it’s a lot of effort for not much flower – a couple of months if you are lucky then they are finished.  On top of that you have to control all the blackfly, whitefly, black spot, rust, powdery mildew, mould etc …and of course you have all those thorns to contend with too.  Not a good thing.

Anyway, roses.  So now of course I am a volunteer in a Rose Garden.  I didn’t choose the rose garden – a bit like the sorting hat in Harry Potter, it chose me.  I wanted to volunteer and I wanted to work outside and get my hands dirty, so they offered me a job in the Rose Garden.  I presume this was because I was English and they thought I’d be an expert – all these misconceptions we have about each other’s nationalities!

So anyway, roses. Well roses are big out here in California. Every garden will have them – beautiful, healthy roses with endless bountiful flowers that bloom all year round.  At our Rose Garden at the arboretum every “winter” (what winter?!!) these poor plants have to be lulled into believing  it’s time to catch their breath, have a rest and re-charge their batteries, because if you don’t kid them into thinking it’s time to stop flowering, they just keep on going, and of course as every gardener knows, if a plant just keeps on going, producing flower after flower after flower, it will eventually get weaker and weaker. 

So the roses have to be severely pruned and forced to take a nap. Back home they would have naturally  stopped flowering by now and shed their leaves so they’d already be looking like a couple of dead sticks and you know when you cut back you’re doing them a kindness.  Here it’s different.   Now I don’t mind pruning anything – give me a pair of secateurs and I’ll snap away to my heart’s content, but when you have snip off healthy buds, blossoming flowers, and lush green leaves, it’s actually quite sad, it almost feels like a form of abuse or criminal damage.

So at the moment the rose gardens are bare – an array of stick like woody stems lulled into a false state of hibernation.  It looks very formal, neat and tidy but not particularly attractive.  I know we're being cruel to be kind but I'd much prefer to see a plant in flower  – and I realize I’m not alone in this philosophy.  I pass gardens on my morning walk and see rose bushes still flourishing and whilst  I want to stop, knock on the door and advise the homeowner to get pruning because he’ll thank me later, there is something very romantic about seeing a house surrounded by so much scent and colour at this time of year.  

Still, leaf buds are already re-appearing on those stunted woody bushes that were cut back in their prime;  it wont be long before fresh leaves will  be emerging and unfolding; a "revitalized rose" will start blossoming.   

New Year, New Blog, New Me, A Revitatlized Rose..... is that symbolism or what? Wow next I’ll be telling you how much I love this country!!!

A Walk On The Wild Side

No - this post isn’t about a visit to Venice Beach which is a walk on the wild side of a totally different kind – this post is intended to be an intelligent, informative, witty little piece about the joys of discovering the natural landscape, flora and fauna of Los Angeles.

Well okay, it’s about going on a walk in the countryside.

 

For the most part Los Angeles is an unattractive urban sprawl. It’s a mass of concrete and flying in to LAX (the main international airport) for the first time is a truly horrifying experience for someone like me who has been brought up in England’s lush green and pleasant lands,  I wanted to turn around and go straight home before I’d even got off the plane. If you are planning a trip to LA then aim to arrive in the dark - the night time descent into LAX is like landing over a giant circuit board – during the day it’s just a grim grey grid that stretches as far as the eye can see. 

 

So, it has been a very pleasant surprise to discover just how many areas of unspoilt countryside there are to explore relatively close to this gridlocked metropolis.

Pasadena, where we now live, is a mere 10 miles from the centre of downtown LA, but I can lie in my bed, looking straight out onto the whole vista of the San Gabriel mountains. A five minute drive out of town and you could be a million miles away from city and the constant noise of the traffic.  Get out of the car, slip on your hiking boots  and head up into the hills. Not only are the views terrific – on a clear day you can see to the coast; the skyscrapers of downtown LA rise up spectacularly out of the mist (well its actually smog but it’s surprisingly picturesque) and the only sounds up here are the tweeting of birds and the gurgling of the mountain streams.

 

There are numerous tracks and trails to be followed, we’ve crossed makeshift bridges over babbling brooks; stumbled across waterfalls – it really is a different world, and totally unexpected.  We’ve come across little log cabins lost in the forest at least a mile away from the nearest road – rather like an earlier version of Centre Parcs but without the sub-tropical swimming paradise – just you, nature and very rustic looking toilet facilities.

And as for wildlife, although we haven’t seen any as yet, there are signs on all of these trails warning of mountain lions, rattle snakes, as well as the local favourite, the Californian Black Bear.  

We have seen coyotes – you can spot these rather mangy grey wolf like creatures early in the morning trotting down suburbian streets; and just this week whilst out for an early afternoon stroll, not even off the beaten track, we startled two large deer by the side of the road.  We know people with raccoons lodging in their  loft and have heard  of friends coming home late at night to discover those Californian black bears frolicking in the hot tub.  Even the wild animals know how to live it up out here!!

Up on my balcony I keep a nectar feeder for the hummingbirds – tiny little exotic birds the size of a giant bumble bee.  And talking of insects – praying mantis are so far the worse I've seen; huge stick insect like things that blend into the background and take on the colour and appearance of whatever they happen to be hanging on to, making them very difficult to spot.  If they settle on a plant they pretend to be a leaf but when they sit on your deckchair….urgh!

  

And talking of all things nasty, if anyone ever does suggest you visit Venice Beach and tells you it’s one of LA’s must see’s and you just  have to go there – ignore them.  Venice Beach is one of the reasons why California is affectionately known across the rest of America as  “the land of fruit and nuts”  -  and they’re not referring to anything you might find growing on a tree.  Trust me, the “wild life” you spot on the boardwalk at Venice Beach could even make that praying mantis seem cute!!!