Cali!

I’ve decided to start writing this post whilst I’m still in California, simply because I can’t let a single second go unaccounted. Lucan and I have been here almost three weeks and it’s been absolutely necessary to start every day with a thank you kiss. (That’s not to say I didn’t want to canoodle in Maine, but let’s be honest, waking up to a warm breeze and a fiery sunrise is far more conducive to romance than shivering yourself awake and waiting for your lips to thaw.) And so, for the next month or so, Lucan will have to deal with an excited smooch at the break of every day.

In spite of my best efforts, it takes some time to fully coerce my adventure buddy from his slumber, but once awake the party begins. So far, we’ve woken up in San Diego, Irvine, Los Angeles and Santa Barbara. For a while we were seriously considering adding Mexico to the programme, but ambiguous caveats in my visa combined with the imperious nature of border agents made us nervous and so we didn’t. That being said, Mexico isn’t far and Canada gets cold, so I’m sure it won’t be long before we return with nothing but our backpacks and flip flops.

Of the four days that we were in San Diego, Lucan spent three in the water, where he remained until his legs had been rendered completely useless. The purpose of this self-sabotage? To substantiate a claim that he’s more fish than man. Now I’ll admit, his stamina is impressive, as are his skills on a board, but his rejection of lungs and legs, well that’s a slight concern.

Ordinarily, uncurbed ‘beach time’ drives me crazy, but luckily I was able to distract myself with a fridge full of ingredients and a camping stove. By the end of our first day, I’d cooked enough food to feed us for the week. Ironically, twenty minutes after packing everything away I met Spencer, a local surfer who was kind enough to invite us over for dinner. The suggestion of freshly-caught Mexican fish and the chance to make a bunch of new friends was all the convincing I needed.

In all honesty, the evening was a little bitter-sweet. I left with a handful of new friends, but a painful realisation that for twenty-five years I have been deprived of grilled fish tacos. Honestly, roast dinners and cucumber sandwiches, what are we playing at!? Guacamole, salsa, grilled fish and soft floury tortillas, my oh my. Independently the ingredients are magnificent, but together, well together they are faultless. It has since occurred to me that California is rife with fish taco dispensaries, they are literally everywhere. Honestly, the tastebuds on the West Coast are some of the most spoiled I have ever encountered - I daren’t even think how they might respond to an aisle hop around Sainsburys. I know my reunion was far less than impressive.

Our next stop was San Clemente, where I was collared by an illusionist as soon as I stepped out of the van. In less than a minute this guy had managed to dematerialise several pounds of soft white flesh and a thick head of hair, whilst simultaneously making a girl appear out of nowhere. It was wonderful. He even shot me with a couple of fast facts, one being that “San Clemente is the most temperate place in California.” Although I can’t corroborate that, I can confirm that in this little seaside town the wetsuits come small, and the locals come friendly.

Laguna Beach on the other hand boasts gelato shops, expensive houses and the most immaculate coastal park I’ve ever seen. It therefore figures that I saw more people darting around the volley ball court than I did slinking about in full body Chinese finger traps. Then again maybe I was just too engrossed in Laguna’s beauty to notice a posse of surfers make their way into the water. Whatever the athletic demographic, the sheer amount of toned bodies deterred me from eating an ice cream - god damn it!

When it comes to recommendations, Newport and Huntington just don’t cut it. The latter in particular was a huge disappointment with its tacky beach shops and chain restaurants. The beach was mediocre, until Lucan bought a tub of Dulce de Leche Haagen Daaz and elevated it to quite good. Although I’m not so sure Curly felt the same half an hour later when he had finished the whole tub. Oh Lucan, you funny little thing.

Our route to LA took us through an area called Ranchos Palos Verdes, which is south of the city and set in some truly beautiful hills. The vista points were so impressive in fact, that my voracious need to take photos added an hour onto our journey. Unfortunatetly, they seem to have disappeared...

L.A. is famous for lots of things, but being clement isn’t one of them. This place has the capacity to burn you - in every sense of the world - if it’s not the scorching summer sun then it’s the blazing cost of rent. Even winter tourists feel the heat, especially after a trip to Beverley Hills. Certain restaurants will leave your pockets more charred than your wagyu steak. Knowing all this, it still surprised me to learn just how disliked this city is, mostly by Americans. For months we listened to warnings about the crime, the dirt and the horrific traffic. As a Londoner, I knew to roll my eyes at the hyperboles, but Lucan, well without the proverbial pinch of salt he was panicking.

Thankfully, Aisleagh with her unbounded generosity, was able to quell Curly’s fears in the blink of a friendly eye. Not only did she let us commandeer her living room and balcony for ten days, she kept us very, very well fed and ensured that we were wildly entertained the whole time we were there. If you’re reading this, thanks again for everything, we are sincerely indebted to you.

Another thanks should go to my lovely, obliging boyfriend for allowing me to drag him to EVERY neighbourhood I could possibly read about. Without him, I wouldn’t be able to share with you my list of ‘must see places in Los Angeles’.

Silverlake

From Vendrome to Sunset Boulevard;

Echo Park

Echo Park Lake

Hollywood

Hollywood Boulevard

From Vermont Avenue to Hollywood Boulevard;

Hillhurst Avenue to Hollywood Boulevard.

Downtown

Third and Traction

Seventh and Grand

Main and Sixth

Mateo and Industrial

Melrose and Fairfax

Mid-city

Beverley from Fuller to La Cienega;

Melose from La Brea to La Cienega;

La Brea from Third to Melrose;

Third from Fairfax to La Cienega;

Fairfax and Melrose;

The Grove and the Farmers Market

Beverley Hills

Robertson from Burton to Melrose

Larchmont

Beverley Boulevard (North) - Wilton Place (East) - Whilshire Boulevard (South) - Highland Ave (West)

Santa Monica

Main Street

Montana Avenue

Third Street Promenade

Venice Beach

Ocean Front Walk;

Abbot Kinney from Venice Boulevard to Main

Topenga Hills

Most of these streets are an unusual craft beer or a vintage dress removed from the typical tourist traps. Unfortunately, they are also separated by major roads and a matrix of featureless neighbourhoods, making the walk between them very tedious. (I know that from experience). Ordinarily it would pain me to recommend hiring a car for use in a city, but when it comes to Los Angeles, I don’t think there’s an alternative; cabs are expensive and public transport is unreliable. That being said, some of the neighbourhoods are close enough to walk between, and the routes aren’t that bad, so pack a map and a comfy pair of sneakers and get exploring.

Of all the places listed above, my favourite would have to be Silverlake. That may have something to do with the fabulous apartment we were staying in, or simply because the neighbourhood itself is awesome. If I’m honest, it’s probably a combination of both. When you blend a whimsical balcony with a smoked salmon breakfast and a fiery sunrise, you have the ingredients for a beautiful morning. Add a little Lucan, somewhere new and a camera, and there’s the perfect afternoon. All you need after that is a splash of Ashleigh, an episode of Broad City and a warm chai for the ideal evening. It helps that within a stones throw of Ash’s apartment is some of the best food in LA, an excellent assortment of cool boutiques and plenty of cool graffiti.

As far as shopping goes, I’d say Mid-City is where you’ll find the best stuff. Not only are the boutiques diverse, they’re affordable and in ample supply. It took us a couple of days to properly explore, and yet I still feel like we rushed. As far as vintage and thrift shopping goes, this is the best I’ve seen anywhere, both here and at home. My barometer for this? A reconstituted Levi denim skirt. It has taken no less than four years and three continents to finally locate one. To anyone that knows me, you’ll understand the gravity of this find. To those that see it as trivial, you need a Levi skirt in your life.

It wouldn’t be right to omit Santa Monica and Venice Beach from my deluge of words, especially since we saw Barrack Obama as we were leaving. I kid you not, we were stopped at a set of lights for almost an hour before we knew why. Only once a convoy of black cars and the presidential saloon rolled past did we suddenly understand why lockdown had been necessary. Needless to say, that wasn’t the most interesting part of our day, we had been at Venice Beach after all. There we caught a glimpse of the Ninja Warrior apparatus, plenty of boobs and muscles, as well as a creepy guy trying to attract disinterested women with his python. And I mean the reptile variety, fortunately.

Of course Tinseltown deserves a mention, if only to prove that we went. Which we did.

Malibu is reserved for the wealthy, it’s almost exclusively beach houses and adjoining private beaches, making it pretty boring for tourists. Santa Barbara on the other hand, is a sprinkling of magic on the coast. Had the rain not driven us out, I’m certain we would have stayed a little longer. Nevertheless, three days gave us plenty of time to thoroughly explore the main street, the beach, surrounding hills as well as the University, which was surprisingly impressive. Unfortunately there isn’t anything comparable in England and so all I have to offer you is an underwhelming description, and this is it: Isla Vista is ten square blocks of fantastic. It is a completely self-sufficient neighbourhood, featuring everything necessary to nourish penniless, caffeine-dependent libertines. We passed at least three pizza delivery places, a couple of bars and even a Starbucks, just to complete the ‘All American College’ picture. I would hazard a guess that the mean age is 23; one in four owns a dog and that each house replenishes its red cup supply once a week. When you factor in how massively cool the houses are, especially the ocean-fronted ones, its easy to imagine how much fun this place could be.

The fun went from speculative to interactive at Jalama Beach, where a surge in testosterone drove Lucan into a BBQ frenzy. With enough chicken and vegetables to feed a small army, Curlilocks set about charring up an absolute feast. We were just tearing into our last vegetable skewer, when a comedic trio from LA approached us to chat about our humble abode. As one beer turned into two beers, I watched the third become a testament to the good company that we had found ourselves. Times like this are important if we are to remember that the best things in life really are free.

Now I’m going to mention Big Sur, but only to redress its sensationalised reputation. Whilst I appreciate that it is an impressive stretch of Route 101, I’m not totally convinced that its the most majestic portion. Yes there are lots of pull outs, and yes it’s peppered with charming lodges, but there are also lots of tourists and tons of State Parks, all of which charge a $10 fee to enter. In my humble opinion, the coastline only gets more dramatic the further north you drive. Of course you shouldn’t miss it if you’re driving through California, but don’t over-excite yourself.

In case you’re wondering, everything they say about the ladies of San Francisco is true - they really do have the best legs in America; with all those huge hills, it would be nothing but a cruel injustice if they didn’t. Our three day romp left us feeling like we’d been surgically attached to a stepper the whole time, unfortunately I didn’t achieve the Minogue bottom I was hoping for, and so, like every other jock, I turned to the bottle. Only it wasn't alcohol, it was soy and believe me, it tasted so good over my prawn dim sum. Ordinarily I’m not a fan of Chinese cuisine, but I must admit, New Asia Restaurant in China Town makes a mean steamed dumpling. And at only $4 for five or six big boys, it’s a fantastic deal. Oh and before I forget, if you get a chance head to Tony’s Pizza Neapolitan for pizza, they are so delicious. You an personalise just about everything, from the dough, to the depth and even the sauce. In addition to that, they use four wood-fired ovens, each maintained at a different temperature to ensure that all pizzas are cooked to perfection. In order to meet demand, they have opened up a take-away place just two doors up from the flagship restaurant and whilst I can’t be sure that they serve the same menu, I can verify that it’s bloody delicious regardless.

Another thing that San Francisco is famous for, is disenchanting weather, reliably disenchanting weather, if I am to be fair. It took almost eighteen hours for a sullen fog to lift before we were able to see the city for the first time, and even then, what replaced it was no better. According to Lucan, my contempt for the weather was unwarranted, but as far as I’m concerned, it spoils an otherwise picturesque city. Luckily, we were able to stay until the skies turned blue, and the streets came alive, resulting in a wonderful few days. We walked the length of China Town, through downtown, along the Esplanade, perused the famous Farmers Market, and ducked into a couple of fun neighbourhoods. Valencia Street was perhaps my favourite, followed closely by Hayes Valley and then Haight and Ashbury. The latter features some truly beautiful houses, although not of the common sense defying sort. Those can be found further into the city, Vallejo Avenue is definitely worth seeking out, especially if you’re looking for a good vista point.

To anyone that tragically matured before they had the chance to experience Centre Parcs as a pre-pubescent, the time has come to set your sorrows aside. Now I won’t lie, it would take a lot to trump my childhood memories, but I do believe I have found something that might placate you. I give you: Yosemite. I would describe it as Longleat on steroids. The trees soar so high into the sky, in such numbers and with such volume that you can help but gawp. There is a river too, more serene and a lot cooler than the rapids of my youth, but lovely for a paddle. We also spotted a few cabins, wooden of course, hidden away in the trees. Now I’m not sure if they too are fitted with hot tubs, but one can dream. As for the bike trails, well they are in ample supply, weaving in and out of the majestic evergreens like gifts left behind by explorers.

Of all the places we visited in California, Lake Tahoe is without doubt one of my favourites. It’s charming, quaint and ever so picturesque. I hadn’t heard much about it before I arrived, but with a handful of wanderlust, a tank full of diesel and a bucketload of time, we decided it was worth the timely detour from Yosemite. And let me tell you, it would have been nothing less than a travesty to have missed it.

Our first day was spent at the south end of the lake, where we wiled away the hours, juicing, drinking and playing cards. Conversations with strangers peppered the afternoon, distracting us from the wonderland we were keen to explore. Before we knew it darkness had descended, leaving obscurity in its place. Fortunately it bought serendipity along for the ride, and only ten minutes into our hunt for a sleeping spot we met Zoe. Now this little lady is probably one of the sweetest souls in America. Not only did she let us sleep in her drive for five nights, she plied us with chai, and cooked us a beautiful pork tenderloin for dinner on our second night. The information imparted by her and Alex (her housemate) were invaluable, and I am so grateful to the both of them for everything.

In the unfortunate circumstance that you don’t run into Zoe, here are some tips on places to visit:

Sand Harbor State Park

This place absolutely took my breath away. Its beauty was actually beyond comprehension.

North side of Lake Tahoe.

If I was American (and minted) this is where I would retire. The beauty of the houses is matched only by the surrounding nature and nothing but ‘exquisite’ will do as a description.

West side

On the west side of the Lake there are plenty of trails, some leading to waterfalls, others deep into the forest. One in particular, Vikingsholm, leads down to a beautiful, old house right on the waters edge. Opposite the building is a tiny island, accessible only by row-boat. Atop this little pocket of pretty is a tea house, commissioned by one of Vikingsholm's previous owners for use by her guests. Of course it wasn’t open for a cuppa when we were there, but I imagine it was quite the delight in its prime.

Hot springs

Just under two hours East of Lake Tahoe is a collection of hot springs, all different in size, colour and temperature but totally natural and ever so lovely.

If I had to confess to a vice it would be grapes. I understand that on the spectrum of interesting revelations that falls somewhere between a knitting obsession and a stamp collection, but it’s true. I used to eat them in such large quantities that they gave me ulcers. How’s that for dangerous? It would be fair to assume from my admission that I have a weakness for wine, but I don’t. I feel its sacrilegious to ferment and then stamp on these little pockets of heaven and so I abstain. That’s not to say that I don’t appreciate a nice vineyard, because I do. To see them at a distance is to behold the patchwork in its entirety, but up close, you get to appreciate the fine needlework involved. The vines have been woven so tightly around the trellis that they might never unravel and so neatly that you daren’t touch them. Being so close almost convinces you that you’re admiring a piece of embroidery and not a field of fruit. Central California is renowned for it’s wine country, Napa Valley in particular. It’s worth noting that the town of Napa is not your destination, but your starting point. From there you travel along the 29, going as far north as you wish. The whole road is peppered with vineyards and adjoining wine-tasting venues; ‘The Castle’ is particularly impressive, as it’s sister deli with its extensive cheese and cured meat selection. It’s quite possible that my sister Immy would have had a hernia, just from the sight of all that Brie. If ice cream is more your thing then perhaps try Sonoma, perhaps the largest, and most diverse of all the aforementioned places.

On our way to point Reyes, we passed through a funny little town called Sebastopol. Completely unremarkable and rather small, if it wasn’t for the funny “junk art” that decorates the streets. It is dotted all around, but found in great numbers on Florence Street. In fact, we were lucky enough to walk by one half of the marital duo painting a sculpture outside her house. She gave us her backstory and was even kind enough to show us inside her home, which is perhaps the best example of a living art gallery that I have ever seen. Suspended above her stove is a military surgical lamp from Germany circa 1940 and in her living room hangs an authentic high school score board. Across from that was a human-sized robot, with flashing eyes and a selection of handmade furniture. To call her house eclectic would be an understatement - it was fantastic, and what’s more, it spilled out into her huge garden, filling every inch with treasures. In comparison, Point Reyes was a little demure. It was good to see, but probably not worth the drive if you’re short on time.

If patience is what you’re lacking, then might I suggest adding Avenue of the Gods to your itinerary. It has all the hallmarks of the Redwoods National Park, except for an entrance fee, crowds and a convoluted route to get there. It runs parallel to the 101 and can be accessed at many intervals. At only 30 miles, it doesn’t take too long to complete, and offers some lovely walking trails.

Of all the states, California is undeniably the most diverse, both in terms of people and landscape.

Our route started amongst cacti but ended in lush rainforest, with rollings hills, lapping waves and electric cities decorating the land between. Without exclusion everyone we met was lovely, from the surfers at Imperial Beach to the aspiring actors in Hollywood, there wasn’t a scowl in sight. Our return trip can’t come soon enough.