America #2
"Get up." "...wuh?" "Yeah, you. That's right - you heard me. Get up." "..." CLICK! "Ow!"
My eyes burned as they adjusted to the bright desk lamp adourning the bedside table. As the painful blur gave way to hard clear edges, I gazed in disbelief at the red digits of the hotel alarm clock and let free a sigh of tired frustration.
"3.16 AM"
But, of course, it wasn't 3.16 AM. In California, maybe, but in Swansea it was 10.16AM and my brain knew it. But wait. That clock says 3.16 AM... That clock agrees. My phone? Watch? Yup - a solid consensus. So that means? Yep. You're in California, genius. (I confess, I giggled like an excited schoolgirl when I recalled this.) And, since my brain was stubbornly conscious, I decided I may as well enjoy being here.
Looking out across my halflit room at the Double Tree, Santa Ana, I noticed with some amusement that my room had two double beds in it. Was it standard arrangement in the US for single rooms to be given two giant beds? What kind of leviathanic being would need to ever push the two together? I shuddered to imagine, and decided to fire up the coffee-maker. Nobody in the US bothers with instant, it seems, and everywhere I went there was a big, shiny coffee pot perched beneath a brown dribble of caffeinated wake-up juice.
I spent the hours leading up to sunrise preparing my new work laptop for the day ahead. It was a snazzy little beast with a finger-print scanning system. To log in, simply drag your lazy digit across the sensor and you're in. I amused myself with this novel mechanism as the coffee slurped and slobbered through the filter.
Dawn broke over California with a rose-orange glow. I looked out of my window onto the palm-tree-lined boulevard and absorbed the world around me. I noted with a grin (as usually decorates my face on reception of something vastly ironic) that the establishments lined up across the road seemed to sum up the culture that I had been told was typical of California. A solarium sat comfortably alongside a nail salon and beside this happy couple beamed the shop front of a dental surgery. I wondered idly if anyone had ever been to each in turn as they passed through on some unseen conveyor belt of beauty.
A group of Mexicans appeared in overalls and began repainting the buildings. It turned out I would see many such groups during my stay. Being a painter or gardener in Orange County must be two of the steadiest professions possible. Wherever I went, it seemed, buildings and gardens were bright and freshly painted with perfectly tended gardens and shrubberies surrounding. Each street, road, boulevard and avenue was lined with palms equal in height and shape. Not a single piece of litter rode the warm morning breeze drifting in from the Pacific. There was no graffiti. No grime. No stray leaves. Not a single feature out of place or, indeed, out of style.
I doubted whether anyone could actually be living in this place - it looked so perfect. Rather like a kitchen showroom or model village. Everything was in its right place. But yet, as the light grew and the world awoke, I saw this toy town come to life. Barbie and Ken and all their little friends arrived in the trademarked Blondemobiles and began another day of perfection in Southern California.
I joined Matt in the breakfast area downstairs and he beckoned me towards the buffet. Americans enjoy breakfast in a very similar way to the British. They fry and scramble eggs, sear sausage, sizzle bacon and toast toast. But a surprise lurks up their sleeves. Into this arena of cholestorol comes hurtling a stack of fluffy pancakes and a drizzle of maple sytup. On the same plate. Together. Wondering if the day's meals had anywhere left to go but downhill from here, I filled my plate and tucked in. Not bad, actually. Not bad at all...
Matt smiled and broke into a bright and warm story. Still a little dazed, I smiled and nodded as I guzzled down my breakfast. Fortunately, Matt really had the gift of the gab and shouldered the burden of conversation. He seemed a stereotypical picture of America. Broad features, white teeth, and the unmistakable energy and confidence that has come to typify the US in the world's eyes. I confess it's a gift I envy - Matt could strike up a conversation with virtually anybody about anything like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Despite sneering scoffery of this brash US trait which I had heard across so many conversations in the UK, I genuinely enjoyed this aspect of culture and wished more Brits would embrace open, honest and warm acceptance of new company. Sure, America as a nation has a terrible reputation for bigotry and xenophobia but, on the ground, in the coffee shops and shoe stores, the restaurants and malls, the coridoors and restrooms, people were smiling to each other with no need for justifcation. I don't see why anyone in their right mind would find this to be a bad thing.
Arion soon joined us at the breakfast table and the conversation turned to details of the day and the plan of action for when we arrived at our partnering company's office. Again, I managed to embarass myself in the parking lot by approaching the drivers door. (It wasn't to be the last time this happened either.)
Sunglasses on and windows rolled down, we hit the road and cruised to Anaheim...
My eyes burned as they adjusted to the bright desk lamp adourning the bedside table. As the painful blur gave way to hard clear edges, I gazed in disbelief at the red digits of the hotel alarm clock and let free a sigh of tired frustration.
"3.16 AM"
But, of course, it wasn't 3.16 AM. In California, maybe, but in Swansea it was 10.16AM and my brain knew it. But wait. That clock says 3.16 AM... That clock agrees. My phone? Watch? Yup - a solid consensus. So that means? Yep. You're in California, genius. (I confess, I giggled like an excited schoolgirl when I recalled this.) And, since my brain was stubbornly conscious, I decided I may as well enjoy being here.
Looking out across my halflit room at the Double Tree, Santa Ana, I noticed with some amusement that my room had two double beds in it. Was it standard arrangement in the US for single rooms to be given two giant beds? What kind of leviathanic being would need to ever push the two together? I shuddered to imagine, and decided to fire up the coffee-maker. Nobody in the US bothers with instant, it seems, and everywhere I went there was a big, shiny coffee pot perched beneath a brown dribble of caffeinated wake-up juice.
I spent the hours leading up to sunrise preparing my new work laptop for the day ahead. It was a snazzy little beast with a finger-print scanning system. To log in, simply drag your lazy digit across the sensor and you're in. I amused myself with this novel mechanism as the coffee slurped and slobbered through the filter.
Dawn broke over California with a rose-orange glow. I looked out of my window onto the palm-tree-lined boulevard and absorbed the world around me. I noted with a grin (as usually decorates my face on reception of something vastly ironic) that the establishments lined up across the road seemed to sum up the culture that I had been told was typical of California. A solarium sat comfortably alongside a nail salon and beside this happy couple beamed the shop front of a dental surgery. I wondered idly if anyone had ever been to each in turn as they passed through on some unseen conveyor belt of beauty.
A group of Mexicans appeared in overalls and began repainting the buildings. It turned out I would see many such groups during my stay. Being a painter or gardener in Orange County must be two of the steadiest professions possible. Wherever I went, it seemed, buildings and gardens were bright and freshly painted with perfectly tended gardens and shrubberies surrounding. Each street, road, boulevard and avenue was lined with palms equal in height and shape. Not a single piece of litter rode the warm morning breeze drifting in from the Pacific. There was no graffiti. No grime. No stray leaves. Not a single feature out of place or, indeed, out of style.
I doubted whether anyone could actually be living in this place - it looked so perfect. Rather like a kitchen showroom or model village. Everything was in its right place. But yet, as the light grew and the world awoke, I saw this toy town come to life. Barbie and Ken and all their little friends arrived in the trademarked Blondemobiles and began another day of perfection in Southern California.
I joined Matt in the breakfast area downstairs and he beckoned me towards the buffet. Americans enjoy breakfast in a very similar way to the British. They fry and scramble eggs, sear sausage, sizzle bacon and toast toast. But a surprise lurks up their sleeves. Into this arena of cholestorol comes hurtling a stack of fluffy pancakes and a drizzle of maple sytup. On the same plate. Together. Wondering if the day's meals had anywhere left to go but downhill from here, I filled my plate and tucked in. Not bad, actually. Not bad at all...
Matt smiled and broke into a bright and warm story. Still a little dazed, I smiled and nodded as I guzzled down my breakfast. Fortunately, Matt really had the gift of the gab and shouldered the burden of conversation. He seemed a stereotypical picture of America. Broad features, white teeth, and the unmistakable energy and confidence that has come to typify the US in the world's eyes. I confess it's a gift I envy - Matt could strike up a conversation with virtually anybody about anything like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Despite sneering scoffery of this brash US trait which I had heard across so many conversations in the UK, I genuinely enjoyed this aspect of culture and wished more Brits would embrace open, honest and warm acceptance of new company. Sure, America as a nation has a terrible reputation for bigotry and xenophobia but, on the ground, in the coffee shops and shoe stores, the restaurants and malls, the coridoors and restrooms, people were smiling to each other with no need for justifcation. I don't see why anyone in their right mind would find this to be a bad thing.
Arion soon joined us at the breakfast table and the conversation turned to details of the day and the plan of action for when we arrived at our partnering company's office. Again, I managed to embarass myself in the parking lot by approaching the drivers door. (It wasn't to be the last time this happened either.)
Sunglasses on and windows rolled down, we hit the road and cruised to Anaheim...
[ Entry posted at: Sun 04 May 2008 23:24:21 UTC | 0 comment(s)... | Cat: News ]