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SPECIAL REPORT: Here's what I learned on my April visit to California. (A business trip, actually. That fact will come in handy later.) +++++++++++++++++++ DAY 1: LOS ANGELES 1) We took off from Logan and headed for LAX, my first trans-continental flight. The touristy bits I saw from the air included the Great Lakes and The Grand Canyon. It's difficult to have any sense of scale at that height, but they did look mighty Great and Grand, respectively. From 37,000 feet, it's easy to see how the Canyon formed from the runoff of nearby mountains, and how erosion will spread the canyon ever wider and longer in the coming eons. Strange how massive geologic phenomenon and the intricate pattern of blood vessels look exactly the same given the proper perspective. I don't know if this says something deep about the patterns of life or is simply a reflection of my having indulged in too much chemical refreshment in college. 2) While looking out across the desert as the Canyon rolled by, my eye caught a strangely perfect triangle of reflected sunlight off to the north. I find it appropriate that the only man-made structure visible from the stratosphere over the Southwest is a monument to decadence, greed, lust and debauchery: The Luxor Casino in Las Vegas. 3) Upon landing in LAX, I was visited by an omen. We stepped off the tarmac and onto the "Thrifty" shuttle, and as we bustled down the freeway I saw a sign above the windshield that said: "Your Driver's Name Is JESUS". Clearly this was, truly, the City of Angels. 4) Still, you wouldn't know it from the outskirts of the city. We never actually made it into L.A. proper, but the surrounding area is consistently drab urban sprawl that stretches as far as the eye can see. Seriously. The grid goes on endlessly. For example, the hotel we stayed at was located at 29,985 Prairie Ave. Other than hotels, there are remarkable amounts of TV/VCR repair shops, Mom & Pop video rental stores, Mom & Daughter strip bars, Sanford & Son junkyards, cheap fast food joints and auto detailing garages. I could easily have been on Rt. 1 in Revere, except it was flat and all the trees looked like they were kidding. 5) This area of L.A. had the highest incidence of El Caminos I've ever seen. 6) The mountains were odd, as well. Geographically, the whole area is strange in that you've got the ocean to the west, a narrow flat plain, and short mountains directly to the east. There are no visible foothills, just an abrupt springing up of mountains from the plain. The mountains are also bizarre because they have no snow or trees, or even any shrubbery to speak of - they are simply covered in grass, making them look soft and cuddly. The light gauze of haze that is always hanging in the air helps this illusion. 7) Had dinner at a Greek restaurant called Popadakus. The food was excellent, but it was the atmosphere that made it memorable. After receiving our flaming cheese appetizer, the 2-count Greek polka stomp was cued up and the entire kitchen staff erupted into the dining room, aggressively dancing while we patrons clapped them on. They were in the amusing habit of leaning over the shoulders of patrons, picking up full glasses of wine with their teeth, tilting their heads back to polish off the wine, then flipping the glass back over their shoulders to crash on the tiled floor below. Watching the busboys with whisk brooms darting in-between the swinging legs of the dancers to furiously sweep the glass shards away was equally entertaining. 8) Following the machismo dancing, I suppose for balance, came the belly dancer. My first belly dancer, actually. She was apparently of the new school o' feminism, which believes that such overtly sexual and apparently exploitative shenanigans are in fact empowering. And watching the men reduced to slack-jawed morons (myself cheerfully included) desperate for a chance to stuff dollar bills in her thong seemed to support this theory. There's no doubt who was in charge. DAY 2: SAN JOSE/SAN FRANCISCO 1) In the morning, we flew up to San Jose to conduct some business. San Jose is in the chip-choked heart of Silicon Valley, make no mistake. While enjoying a light breakfast outside a little shop, I overheard patrons dressed in full three-piece polyester armor discussing routers, switches, scalability, ROI and leveraged skill sets. It was 8:00am. I can't even order a bagel without stammering and staring blankly into space until at least 10:00. 2) This town is a bizarre blend of (a) massive technology and (b) stereotypical California stoner vibe. a) Massive Technology - driving down the main drag is like leafing through ZDNet. Novell, Cisco, National Semiconductor, Yahoo, Intel…..the names and buildings go on and on. Cisco is particular was incomprehensibly huge. Their "campus" of buildings began with a monolithic glass and steel structure about the size of the Portsmouth Sheraton placed on top of another Portsmouth Sheraton. This was wittily referred to as "Building A". Silly New Hampshire boy me, I thought this *was* Cisco. Turning to look down the road revealed that carbon copies of the exact same building dotted the whole section of town. The buildings go from A through Z. Then they start numbering them.3) I'm convinced at this point that San Jose is in fact a virtual reality construct. The perfectly glistening buildings, perfectly green acreage, perfectly sunny orb in the perfectly blue sky - clearly this is too weird to be real. I think that the surrounding landscape is really nothing but violently twisted piles of blackened metal, chirping processors and crackling wires. You heard it here first: San Jose is a hermetically sealed environment a la The Truman Show, designed to fool young software engineers into believing that they are changing the world's technology and getting stock options, when in reality their bodies are being harvested for the adrenal glands on which the supercomputers feed. 4) That evening, we booked a room in the wistfully, optimistically-titled Comfort Inn, then drove an hour north for an evening in San Francisco. 5) Parked at the waterfront on Embarcadero Ave, took a cable car into downtown. Took me about 3 total minutes to fall helplessly in love with this city. 6) San Francisco is much like Portsmouth, except about 100 times bigger and has better weather. Portsmouth is a town where you can buy an authentic Native American Dream Catcher in innumerable shops, but good luck finding a hammer. San Fran is the same way. Artsy, impractical, moderately elitist and proud of it. I saw only two neon signs. 7) San Francisco is also much newer than Portsmouth - it feels clean and fresh. What with the city's tendency to burn to the ground, construction has an optimistic quality, both in form and intent. Victorian architecture rules the residential neighborhoods, but these elegant buildings are painted shockingly cheery pastels. 8) Best local establishment name: A Laundromat called "The Missing Sock". 9) The hills are legendary, and for good reason. Riding the cable car was not much different than ratcheting up the first hill of a roller coaster. It must be a bitch to drive a standard transmission in this town. Everyone has great calves. 10) Ate at a jazz club, intending to hit a similar club across the street for dessert. Got caught up in the Miles Davis covers for a bit, and headed to the other club at 11:30, only to find it had recently closed for the evening. What sort of jazz club closes at 11:00pm? I ask you. I suppose that San Francisco is known for its jazz the way New Orleans is known for its techno. I should have known better. 11) Sadly, we could not stay long. Flew out of San Francisco Airport at night, and at the risk of sounding like a hyperbolic, starry-eyed country boy, the city from the air looked like diamonds scattered on rumpled black velvet. It was beautiful. My only regret is that I didn't get to experience an earthquake. |