Do You Have a Pen: California

California

I can’t say California is my favorite state,  but I really love it there and it’s really high up there on my list of favorites.  There are so many negatives to California that are outweighed by the positives and with that,   I can’t say it’s not my favorite state either.   I truly love it.  Forget the politics for a moment and the high costs of living,  just go for a drive through the state and you will see different ecosystems throughout.  You can drive an hour from L.A.  and be literally in the middle of the desert and there is no one around.

I’ve only been to Riverside one time and that was on Black Friday.  It’s hard for someone living close to Chicago to imagine the annual ceremony of getting ready for Christmas and the tree lighting being a big deal there,  but we were stuck in a traffic jam just trying to leave town.  In retrospect,  I wish I had the chance to go to it.  It was a huge deal there and not the slightest chance of snow. 

San Diego had a different vibe all together than I expected.  I really thought it would just be a slightly smaller version of L. A.  and I was wrong.  I loved it,  not as much as L. A,  but still a lot.  It was warm but not oppressively hot with a nice breeze blowing off the ocean.  They have a great public transportation system that I have yet to use in favor of my beloved Uber.  Palm trees and relaxation are abound in San Diego.  Usually I will take the Amtrak up to L. A.  to fly out because it’s normally cheaper,  but sometimes you can find great rates out of San Diego,  but they are typically carrier specific instead of across the board,  so I can’t always get the best rate on American Airlines,  which is what will prompt me to take the train north.

Palm Springs is one of the best places.   I assume everyone already guessed that,  but it really is special.  Out in the desert,  it’s truly an oasis.  It was March or April when I was there and 105 degrees.  You just stood there and baked and it felt strangely good.  The mountains in the background are so beautiful.  My friend Robert ended up spending a couple days there and I went on to L. A.  without him on a trip so he lucked out in my estimation.  The bad part of town still had broken beer bottles on the ground,  but Heineken and Becks,  not MGD.  Instead of empty pop bottles on the ground,  it was Perrier water bottles.  They had like a thousand little shops to explore,  some in old historic buildings and some were brand new construction all elbow to elbow along the main street with fantastic restaurants strewn among them,  seemingly randomly. 

Barstow is another weird one for me.  I know I should hate Barstow,  but I really like it,  regardless of the constant wind.  It’s this trashy little desert town full of old houses that have fallen into disrepair and trailer parks that have fallen into further disrepair.  They have a homeless problem like so many other places that far south,  but when I stop at the truck stop,  I can walk to Del Taco,  In-N-Out Burger,  Habit Burger,  Fatburger  (my new favorite),  and a sushi place.  In fact,  the sushi place is in a small strip mall named The Asian Market,  that has nothing but asian-focused stores and restaurants.  I usually eat when I get there before I go to sleep and then again elsewhere before I leave.  I try to arrange it so I arrive early enough to be able to do two means there because everything is so accessible.  All my favorite junk food is in one place just for me.  Barstow is also the home of Del Taco,  so it’s really cool to be there.  If you’ve never had Del Taco,  you would never eat Taco Bell again if they were an option for you.  They are that good.  One of my bucket list items is to do the XXXL Burger Challenge at the Barstow Fatburger because that’s where I first tried the brand and...YUMMERS!!!  One of my goals is to spend a day exploring Barstow and it’s a two-for goal for me since I want to explore the old Route 66 and I believe Barstow embodies the old route for California,  from the old and outdated to the modern. 

In Barstow one early afternoon,  I met a man of about twenty-five years old at the Dennys in a truck stop.  It’s not the most illustrious setting,  a truck stop in Barstow,  but it was fitting.  He was homeless and talking to me,  but unlike many,  didn’t ask me for money.  I come across differently to different people,  but a lot of people find me easy to talk to and open up.  I guess he just needed someone to talk to and while I hopefully will never fully understand what he was going through,  I somewhat understood where he was coming from.  He seemed to take it in stride.  Unlike many,  he did not ask me for any money,  which is good,  because I never really carry cash on me and though not happy about his circumstances at the time,  he remained positive.  He saw some people leave and said  “this is my chance”  and he grabbed a clean roll of silverware from the hostess stand and went to the table,  sat down,  and finished off their meals that they left.  He never complained about his circumstances or anything.  He just did what he had to do.  It made me reflect on my own life and how appreciative I am for what all I have,  which by wealth standards isn’t high,  but money comes and goes.  I am appreciative of my friends and personal support network more after talking to him than before.  He needed someone to just hear his story and though I never realized it beforehand,  I guess I needed to hear it to know how truly blessed I am for my network of friends and family.  He gave me a strange personal awakening.  Had he not scarfed down those plates,  I would have bought him lunch on my debit card to continue the conversation,  but I wouldn’t want to make someone sing for their supper and we both got what we needed,  though mine took much longer to process. 

Taking Interstate 5 North or California 58 West towards Bakersfield isn’t a long trip,  but I got pinned down on 58 one time for a bad storm.  First it was wind starting about twenty miles before Barstow,  which isn’t uncommon,  then the wind got heavier and picked up sand.  By the time I got to the top of the mountain pass,  there was snow mixed in with the sand.  That mix gave way to just snow blowing sideways.  I stopped in a truck stop to wait it out.  I didn’t come to California to freeze my ass off.  I’m only twenty-three miles from Bakersfield now and stuck.  Bakersfield is at the end of a long downhill slope,  so I checked the storm and my altitude on my phone and I’m really not sure what to do.  I just drove fifty or sixty miles in the storm,  but do I have another twenty in me to come down and I’m really not even sure coming down in altitude will help me much?  Screw it!  I started driving I made it three miles and...calm.  I went just low enough I could see the storm above me,  but I was no longer affected by it.  Just three more miles was all it took.  I never would have know how close I was if I didn’t just push forward.  There may be a metaphor for life or success somewhere in that. 

Moving north from Bakersfield is the Grapevine and the Central Valley.  It smells horrible if you’re not used to it.  It’s just a mixture of dirt,  pesticides,  fertilizer,  and cow shit.  The drive is actually beautiful,  but long and on both sides in the distance you will see mountains,  hence your being in a valley,  but the mountains are so far apart,  it’s hard to actually realize that you’re in a valley.  It’s a unique culture there of farmers that I never thought existed.  It’s almost a colony of the Midwest more than part of California,  where the county fair is the big event in the summer.  The state that has Silicone Valley and Hollywood seems like an unlikely candidate to have this type of agrarian lifestyle,  but here it is. 

Up north is the Bay Area.  Driving there you go through Silicone Valley and on both sides of the interstate you see the who’s who of international websites and apps on the tops of basic,  nondescript office buildings.  That drive is impressive.  In Oakland,  I got stuck waiting five hours for my bus one time.  I was flying out of L.A.  and sat a late bus so I could sleep there.  Oakland has a solution to their homeless problem.  The bus and train station have no restroom.  So I waited while freezing for hours outside and had to pee.  I had an option of twenty dollars to get to the San Francisco International Airport  (SFO)  or just find a place by the bus station.  One look at Oakland and your ok with unzipping and letting it fly.  The city reminded me a lot of a giant toilet so it was cool.  New Jersey is the only other place I have no problem pissing on.

San Francisco is just different.  The prices on everything are just higher,  more in line with New York City.  I really love the area.  I was stricken by the tent cities there,  as with L.A.  It’s not something I expected to be quite so visible,  but they are right there in the open for anyone to see driving past.  The public transit system is expensive compared to everywhere I have traveled.   Just to get from Oakland’s main train station to San Francisco International Airport  (SFO)  is around ten dollars.  Fisherman’s Wharf is a real site to behold and if you are in the Bay Area,  I highly recommend going there.  The restaurant options,  however are expensive,  but I had the best New England clam chowder in my life on Fisherman’s Wharf,  a thing I have been searching for.  I did pay $17 for it by the time I got it,  but it was worth it.  The restaurant was a pretentious place with the waiters wearing the standard black and white,  but with the addition of a black necktie. On the menu,  it called the clam chowder  “award winning,”  and I just assumed those were nothing more than words.  I was absolutely wrong.  This was far more than cheap words of advertising and I may have giggled a bit upon my first bite.  

I’m not sure why California is my favorite state.  Every time I drive through,  there is just this magical feeling that covers me and I just feel and act so much better and more relaxed.