Poking and Prodding

It was time for my six monthly visit to the dentist a few days ago.

The build up of coffee, tea and red wine was about to be attacked with vicious instruments of torture.

You can count on tannins to dullen your smile. Not that my smile it up to much.

Unlike most Californians my teeth are quirkily crooked, a sure mark of a Brit while away. I am told that braces are now fashionable, irrespective of need. I think I will let someone else play a James Bond baddie.

The check up before the dreaded hygienist is normally fine. A bit of casual poking about, the dentist rudely speaking in a strange private code to the assistant, ensuring that more of the white cliffs are not about to fall into the sea. Then back to the waiting room, surrounded by 1980's Vogue magazines and edgy looking people.

The hygienist is more often than not a woman. Attractive, despite the blue operating garb, with a pleasant friendly manner.

Don't be fooled by this facade.

As soon as the chitchat is over you are strapped to a chair and given a very uncool pair of specs to wear that make you look like a Brains from Thunderbirds. Self confidence destroyed, the hygienist begins her dark work.

The worst phase is the cleaning. Your teeth feel like an old road being parted from its of tarmac with heavy machinery operated by a rum bunch of blind lackeys. A fine spray of debris flies out of your mouth with a vacuum sucking the ever increasing reservoir within. Gurgling and swirling noises add to this unhappy dance. Palms get very sweaty, and hands are tightly clasped together. The process is pretty much painless, but its the not knowing that causes the nerves.

A quick polish, rinse, and run away as fast as possible, suddenly realising that you are still wearing those really uncool specs.

Our Little Imperfections

A genetically modified grape is being developed in South Africa. A ‘Mengele’ style super race of grapes to guarantee near perfect outcomes from every crop.

Playing God and fiddling with genes is a dangerous game. It only takes a peckish migrating bird, with a bad case of constipation, to eat a plump, rather smug GM grape. By the time its bowels have finally emptied, the excrement could have ended up continents away, spreading the GM contaminated seed to a cosy vineyard in Bordeaux.

I suppose you might argue that the putrid parcel could just as easily land on someone’s head, a small insignificant rock out at sea, or a newly painted car. Thankfully in that case the GM cargo in the guano would be as likely to germinate as the effluent from a passenger brushing their teeth on a passing plane.

The excitement of the unknown due to little imperfections is a very valuable part of life.

Nature (with the help of much vine bed swapping) has done a pretty good job so far with grapes (apart from that Tesco Valpolicella I had the other week).

Still coming down from my trip to California I wondered what it would be like to live out there. The perfect bright white teeth and constant sunshine seem very appealing, but I imagine the homogeneity would not sit well over time.

A similar feeling to 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' (Kundera).

Regular Coke

The Pacific Coast Highway takes some precipitous turns out of the Big Sur. Admiring the views while driving is not to be recommended, unless you want to meet the 'Creator'.

The route is mostly stunning, but sometimes disappointing.

A waterfall was advertised as worth a look at the ‘Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park’. I turned off the dizzy climbs, paid 8 USD for parking and wandered along a trail to view it.
I passed a cove with a small cliff spewing out a trickle of water, it was about as dramatic as a urinating lemming. I was flabbergasted to find out this was ‘the’ amazing waterfall. Oh dear. At least the exchange rate was favourable.

I arrived in Santa Barbara in good spirits, as the bagel I had eaten a few days earlier had finally digested.

What a great place.

It has its own micro climate and is surrounded by magnificent hills with some great trails (if you don’t mind rattle snakes and the odd hungry mountain lion). I stayed at my aunt’s house, drank a lot of good wine, played Yahtzee and repeatedly walked into fly screens while under the influence.

I was taken to an amazing Mexican place called ‘La Super Rica Taqueria’ on Milpas street. Apparently one of the best in California, cunningly disguised as a run down shack. The lady pressing out the tortillas looked like she had been doing it since the dawn of time. ‘Awesome man’, as they say in the States.

I also went to a nearby old coach stop called ‘Cold Spring Tavern’, off highway 154. It is an excellent bikers bar, a cross between an elaborate garden shed and an English pub. Great local Firestone Ale and beef rolls with some live music thrown in. I experienced Pretzels here. A bit like rock salt covered dried shoe laces, but a good thirst maker.

On to Los Angeles. One big freeway in bad repair, strewn with litter. Luckily I stayed in South Pasadena which is very civilized. I expected Marti McFly to drive by in his DeLorean at any moment.

I visited Orange County and Huntington Beach. Fake breasts and long boards seemed like the theme there. ‘Excellent dude’ or ‘gnarly’ are good terms to familiarize yourself with. A pretty stunning surf spot.

Here endeth a fantastic holiday. I really took to the Californian lifestyle with the sense of space and scale, as reflected in my belly.

I have a short list of noted points :

- Bagels are like many loaves of bread condensed into a doughnut as heavy as the centre of a neutron star (which is extremely heavy by the way).

- The ‘Stop’ and wait priority road junction system could get messy.

- Salads are always a ridiculous size and are normally floating on a sea of one of the million dressing choices.

- If you order iced tea it is constantly topped up for free, as will the urinal for the next few hours.

- Keep an eye on your food in a restaurant. If you are inattentive then it will be magically wrapped up in a doggy bag before you know it, adding to the already growing collection in the fridge.

- Over 1000 cable channels makes watching TV a lifetime pursuit for quality.

- Californian restaurants have excellent wine lists, especially Pinot Noir.

- Mexican is the equivalent of our Indian food, and I love it.

- I prefer our version of English, but after a while the Americanisms are endearing. They can be very infectious.

- Be prepared to answer 20 questions if you order a simple sandwich.

- Waiters have a finite list of questions and expected responses. ‘Full fat coke’ is not one of them. Do not venture out of the service industry comfort zone, or confusion will ensue.

- The word ‘please’ seems to have become ‘can I get’.