Who walks? We walk!

Just before falling into bed after the Mexico trip, we said our goodbyes to Jana, who was off early the next day on a work trip, leaving Nigel to entertain us on his own. The lovely man took a day off work to be with us, so the least we could do was drive to our selected destination – San Diego Zoo.

I have reservations about Zoos in general. The last time I visited one, in Barcelona, I was so shocked at how badly the animals were treated (they all looked unhealthy, the place was a mess, none of them had any room) we left quickly and I vowed not to go to another one. The last time we were in San Diego Michelle talked me into going to Sea World, which seemed much better, although the whale show left me a little cold. It really is the only way most of us will ever get to see these beautiful animals, but is it really fair to keep them locked up and make them do tricks? It’s not on a par with the cruelty to bears and monkeys in Africa and parts of Europe, admittedly, but still…

So I thought it would be fair to give San Diego Zoo a go. Like all American Theme Parks, it is incredibly well organised for a start. Loads of Parking, clear signage, loads of entry gates, and more information than you can reasonably take in.

We started with the monkeys, who had a lot of space, but seemed a little lethargic. The birds in the next-door aviary seemed happy enough although I’m not sure how an unhappy bird sounds to be honest, and the gorillas were laying around or performing for the few people they had. We watched one of them pull a branch from a nearby tree and delicately pull each leaf from the branch and eat it. By the time we had seen the meerkats with their keeper, I was sold on the concept of a ‘good’ zoo, until we got to the big cats.

I have a soft spot for big cats, and having seen film of jaguars, lions, tigers leopards and lynx in the wild, it’s clear that they need space in which to run. These guys didn’t. However cool it is to see a fully grown jaguar a couple of feet away, it’s still not right for it to be cooped up like they are. The leopard was pacing up and down, and looked frustrated. So we carried on, visiting the elephants, koalas, and polar beers, all of which were either asleep, or busy elsewhere. I did enjoy the visit, and it raised my hopes for Zoos in general – if every Zoo was as clean, well organized and informative as this, I could be convinced that they are necessary so us ordinary folk get a chance to get close to these fascinating animals.

That evening we walked down Orange Avenue to the Coronado Brewing Company, sampled a couple of the Micro-Brewery’s range of beers and bought Nigel dinner. The very least we could do, considering the fantastic time he had ensured for us. The next morning we said goodbye and thanked him, and headed up the road – destination Huntington, and our friends The Harding Family.

We took the 5 until we hit Dana Point, where we headed back to the coast and PCH1. We stopped off at Laguna Beach, and hit Huntingdon right on time, giving us a chance to pick up some flowers and fruit for our hosts from the street fair we found on Main Street. It had been a couple of years since we last visited James, Kayce, Hannah and Sophie, and the girls had not only grown but apparently swapped personalities. Sophie, the shy and quiet one last time seemed to be the more dominant of the twins two years on, but according to Kayce they swap around regularly. We dumped our bags and piled into the family sized SUV to head back to the coast, and Ruby’s at the pier. The girls filled us in on what they’d been up to over the last two years, and occasionally James or Kayce got to tell us something too, and before we knew it we were back at the house, the girls were in bed – having first given us a rare performance of an elaborate Harry Potter joke – and we all admitted defeat. These people had to be at work the next day, and in Kayce’s case, much earlier than we would be around so we said our goodbyes. We got to hug the twins before they went to school in the morning, and James was meeting his friend and builder Tim first thing, so we got an extra hour with him before again heading north on the PCH towards Santa Monica. We made loose plans to see them again in March on our way home…

We had agreed with the car hire firm to drop the car at their branch on Wilshire Boulevard, just round the corner from the hostel we had booked on 2nd Street. Finding it was another matter. Of course, because I ‘knew’ the area I just assumed we’d see it, rather than, say, write down the actual address so we would know roughly where to look. That would just be far too easy. It was on the third trip back down one of the main streets in Santa Monica that Michelle spotted the tiny logo above a tiny office, and an even smaller sign directing us down a tiny side street. They didn’t seem to mind too much that we were nearly an hour late, and even offered us a lift to the hostel. Our driver, Chris, had spent a year studying in Kensington, London, so understood when we explained where we lived. He recommended we try a local beer called Firestone, brewed in Santa Barbara, after we had the usual ‘what is it with the warm beer?’ conversation.

The hostel, part of the Hosteling International chain, is very clean, organised, and just a little soul-less – but it’s very close to everything we needed and by the time we’d checked in, dragged our bags up to the fourth floor, we both fell fast asleep, waking up late in the evening which made it hard to find somewhere to eat. We ended up in Barney’s Beanery sharing a huge pizza and drinking Firestone, which I’m glad to report lived up to Chris’s recommendation.

The next day, and the rain is threatening. So what do we do? Yes, that’s right – we hire bikes, and set off on the beach path south. Our intended destination, Manhattan Beach, was still a good 3 miles off when we finally gave up due to the wind blowing us back where we’d just come from, and the ride back got quicker as the clouds got blacker. We’d still covered a good 26 miles, and immediately celebrated with muffins and coffee.

We’d already decided to treat ourselves that evening, so we headed for the hip new vegetarian restaurant in town, the Real Food Daily, or RFD. This, could be the most perfect place for us. Michelle could have lentils, rice, runner beans and carrots, and I could order a tempeh roast, with onion gravy and mash. It was, of course, all too good to be true, and just as we were plowing through the houmous and pitta bread starter, Chelley started feeling a bit faint, like she was in one of those Merchant Ivory films. It was quite warm in the restaurant, and after a few minutes we decided we had to leave. Thankfully even posh places in the States will pack up your left-overs, even if you haven’t actually started, and within a couple of minutes we were walking, slowly, back towards the hostel, carrying our meals. She felt much better as soon as we had got outside, so we sat in the communal kitchen amongst students and eat our fantastic RFD meals.

Our last day was a long one. The flight to Brisbane left at midnight, and we had to check out of the room by 11am, which left us with 9 hours to fill. Luckily the morning downpour had given way to sun by the time we ventured outside.

One of the areas of LA I hadn’t really given much time too was Venice. The Beach area is just a bit too gaudy, and tries a bit too hard to be ‘wacky’, for my liking, and so I’d never been to the area inland. The ‘Big Blue Bus’ company runs regular services around Santa Monica, one of which goes into Venice, so we jumped on and decided to ride the whole route before getting off along the main street, Abbott Kinney Boulevard.

This plan worked fine until, slightly distracted by the fact that we had driven passed Venice High School – used as Rydell High School in the movie ‘Grease’ – we heard the driver announce that we all had to leave the bus. We asked if we could get back on, and she asked if we were lost. After we explained our plan of seeing the neighbourhood first, she told us we were more than welcome to get back on the bus, but we’d have to wait outside for ten minutes. While outside, Chelley was approached by an old Chinese lady, who asked for help undoing the top button on her trousers. You wouldn’t say no, would you?

Also waiting to get on the bus was a young guy with a skateboard, who, after noticing me looking at his board explained that he normally skated to work, but he didn’t fancy the puddles today. He also went on to tell us that he was from Florida, his Gran owned about twenty houses in Venice, he’d been a driver in the military but had got shrapnel in his leg while serving in The Congo, he’d studied Nutrition and Massage at college, and he worked in one of the numerous bong shops on Venice Beach Front blowing glass. And he looked about 19 years old. When we got off the bus he gave me his card. He was called ‘Fish’.

The wind was getting really strong, so we took refuge in a number of the fantastically varied stores along Abbott Kinney, before finding a coffee shop and eating Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches.

Venice is called Venice because it is actually built around a series of canals, modelled on the Italian city of, ahem, Venice. And it is very beautiful. The American one, not the Italian one. Well, I’m sure the Italian one is very beautiful…oh, you know what I mean, right?

We walked the two miles back to Santa Monica and decided to go the movies. ‘The Golden Compass’ has caused a bit of a rumpus, what with the book’s author telling everyone that the book is about organised religion, so we got in on the opening day. You know what? It’s a great looking film, the acting is fine and the story bounds along quite nicely even before you start in on the whole meaning. Go see it!

We have a bus booked to take us to the airport, and the driver tells us that his friend started a radio station, he came to the States as a student in the 70’s, he’d been an engineer, he loved classical music… everyone shares here. As we line up to check in for our flight, we reflect on the fact that it’s only a week since we left England, but it seems like a lifetime already.

Brisbane, here we come!