Sojourn in SoCal

Photos (of any quality) by H. Darr Beiser

California.  It's just better here.

Just to wrap up my summer travels, I got slightly out of order.  Just two weeks before the Bay Area Bonanza, I had been to LA, well, really Beverly Hills, and San Diego, well, really La Jolla.

There’s nothing quite like staying at Judy’s in Beverly Hills. It’s like staying in a spa, a zen center, living in a garden, having an onsite movie theater, being surrounded by her beautiful art, and eating in a kitchen that serves all of your favorite food.

Sir Paul larger than life

On the first night of my stay we went to see Paul McCartney in fifth row seats at Dodger Stadium. Seeing Paul is like having someone personally serve you a large slice of some of the best memories of your life,  on a silver platter. Seeing Paul is like seeing a genius. It's like seeing Rembrandt wearing bluejeans in his 70s.

There’s just one thing about that otherwise thrilling concert that I must admit. We left to get a jump on traffic before the encore. When Ringo appeared. That's right Ringo, my favorite Beatle, the other half of our surviving members. The appearance made national news so it wasn't as if I could hide this fact when everyone asked if I saw Ringo. I did not see Ringo. So there. The crying has stopped.  Don’t bring it up again.

I must be in California

In previous blogs about Beverly Hills, I have described the heavenly streets, the manses and mansions, the weather wonderment, and how I get a thrill out of making a pitstop at the Beverly Hills Hotel perhaps using the same facilities as Lauren Bacall. I have exhausted the word play on hedges, hedge funds, hegemony.

Standard fare

So this time I thought I’d tackle the hierarchy of cars in Beverly Hills.

And here it is:

Ford trucks: Construction workers, gardeners

Camrys:  Domestic staff

Volvos, Audis:  Visitors

Range Rovers, Mercedes, BMWs:  Standard fare

Porsches: High

Jag

Jaguars, Ferraris, Rolls Royces: Higher

Limousines: Very high

No car:  Highest. These people are being carried about on litters, have a heliport or have devised a new way of teleporting.

La Jolla "cottage"

And then I headed down to stay with my in-laws in La Jolla. Ever joyful, ever jewel-ful. Here you can run a few blocks and meditate by the ocean, you can admire the oceanfront houses with voluptuous views. You can experience perfect weather. Every. Single. Day. 

Just another La Jolla house

 

I travelled 2,600 miles to shop for a bedspread at Bazaar del Mundo in Old Town, San Diego because that’s where you have to go for color, for screaming gorgeous Guatemalan fabrics. The kinds of colors you find at the end of the paint strip. Try to find a real bedspread online, not a quilt, not a throw, not a coverlet, then find it in these tones. I dare you.

Give me color

 

A few blocks from there you can find divine Mexican food at the Old Town Mexican Café.  I know I have promoted it before.  But it bears repeating. Darr was in La Jolla all week, and went four times. Baskets of tortilla chips had to die for our happiness. But they didn't mind.

So I left California with my fill of flora, fauna, flour, fabric and general fabulousness.

With Lisa, so happy we just scored flour tortillas

I've been up and down the state this summer