I drove to San Diego, California this past week from Portland, OR. I could talk about Oregon all day. It's a beautiful state and I have a new appreciation for it having driven the entire length of California. The Golden state could generally be divided in to 4 sections along I-5.
Section 1: NoCal. Mount Shasta. Green trees. Mountains. Kind of like West Virginia only with a lot more brown coloring. The water was very low in the lakes. Guess it's not snowing or raining enough in the Shasta watershed? Either way, one can't help but be impressed with the natural beauty of this part of the state. It's a postcard around every corner.
Section 2: The Valley. Hot. Dry. Lots of aqueducts, fruit trees, almond trees, and a helluvalot of dust. This part takes up about 1/3 of the state. As you whisk along at 70 MPH, you get the sense the state flower is the retread tire scrap. Pieces of retread line I-5 for hundreds of miles. Someone could make a lot of money just picking these up and recycling them. Hey Governor Schwarzenegger! Maybe you could spare some convicts to do a little road work? This section really does not end until you hit the outer northern suburbs of Los Angeles. It has its own beauty, I suppose. But, mostly it's just miles and miles of agriculture. And, clearly, they are having a water problem. There were signs everywhere complaining of the "Congress Made Dust Bowl."
Section 3: Los Angeles. Los Angeles has to be one of the ugliest cities in the world. What's really criminal is that it does not have to be that way. It has so much potential, so much energy, so many rich and smart people. It's pathetic. All that creativity and no one smart enough to simply pick up the garbage. Cruising along I-5 gives one the impression that the city is just fine with that. There is an unbelievable amount of debris and detritus of daily life along the freeway and under passes. It's astonishing. You'd think with all of L.A.s' problems, someone would at least take out the trash. I know I sound a little like my grandmother here scolding my aunt for keeping an untidy home; dishes in the sink, garbage overflowing, bathrooms that would make a fraternity house look like a Level One clean room, etc. I think Antonio Villaraigosa should be ashamed of what he is presiding over. Hey Mayor Villaraigosa! Some advice: be the change you want to see in (your) world. You could start by doing a little roadside clean up.
Section 4: Carlsbad. An oasis of pure California dreamin' bliss. Beaches. Sand. Surf. Clean taco stands with friendly gold-toothed cashiers. Even the bathrooms in these little dives are clean. It's Boca Raton with hills. Lots of neat little malls and shops for the well-heeled, botoxed and SUV-loving face painters tanned to perfection. We stayed at the sterile, but perfectly adequate, Grand Pacific Palisades Hotel and Resort. It was impeccably clean, but devoid of personality. I felt like I'd landed in a Logan's Run set piece.
California is a little like a middle aged man whose athletic glory days are fading fast. His middle is a real problem, but he's still got the shoulders and legs of his old form; his top and bottom show what he could be again. But, he needs to do some sit ups, lay off the carbs and get a plan for the next phase of his life. My advice if you are planning to drive the length of the Bear State: taake a nap once you hit Weed and stay asleep until you hit Miramar. You won't miss much.
