As you may know I am having a bit of a hard time achieving my goal of coming up with 365 things that don’t suck about L.A. Happily, my dear friend, Enc, the author of Observationmode has kindly agreed to help me meet my quota of nice things to say about Southern California. Also, for the record, the fact that I get to see her every month or two for lunch and shopping at South Coast Plaza in the O.C. is #43 of 365 things that don’t suck about L.A. And, yes, she is from Chicago.
La Belette has graciously asked me to do a guest post on “Five Things That Don’t Suck About L.A.” I was honored to accept her invitation, but the trouble is, I don’t live in L.A. I live much farther south, in North San Diego County. So I can’t give an L.A.-specific viewpoint for my five things that don’t suck. But I can give a highly-relevant Southern California perspective, one that is applicable in half the state, so I think I have a leg to stand on. Let’s begin:
1. No ice scrapers!
This one is obvious—most people think of beautiful sunny weather when they think of Southern California, and most of the time, there is sunny weather here. On the few days it isn’t sunny, it’s overcast, but never snowy. Not by the beach, anyway. If you go to the mountains, you’ll regularly experience snow, but you can make a choice not to go to the mountains, and that’s my choice.
Growing up in Chicagoland, in the darkest depths of winter, I wore so many clothes under my down jacket (now called “puffer” for some unknown reason); I looked like the Sta-Puft marshmallow man. (Hmmm. Maybe the Sta-Puft reference is a clue to the new name for down-filled winter outerwear!)
If I had to go somewhere, that meant suiting up in my Sta-Puft costume, followed by waddling out the front door, and wading through the snow, out to the car. Cars were regularly buried under blankets of snow. Beneath that snow was a layer of ice. To drive someplace during winter months, one would have to really plan ahead. One would have to allow at least 20 minutes for the following activities: tunnel to one’s car; dig out the door handle; get in; start the car; get the engine warmed up; turn the heater on; shut the door; begin scraping.
Every single motorist had one of those brush/scraper/squeegee things in his/her car in Chicagoland (and other Great Lakes states). You had to, or you’d never make it out of your driveway in January or any other winter month. Ours got a lot of use. The best fun was trying to use that brush to get the snow off your car’s roof. Invariably, the snow would go down the sleeve of your jacket, and all over you. Give up on looking good, ladies and gentlemen, you’re automatically bedraggled after a snow-removal session.
Sometimes, the ice was so stubborn and wily, some part of the brush/scraper/squeegee thing would snap, leaving you with only semi-effective pieces, and not a lot of power to scrape. You learned to improvise what whatever shards you had left. You’d scrape and scrape, and you’d succeed valiantly getting the windshield clear, then you’d move to the back window, and get about two thirds visibility on that. This took about 15 minutes. Ten, if you were a seasoned ice warrior. After about six minutes, your arms would get tired, the muscles would burn, and your standards would change: gouging out four-inch peepholes for visibility on the side windows became acceptable. It was always an epic struggle, and to be able to back out of the driveway without wrapping the car around a tree would be considered a triumph.
I don’t miss winter weather at all!
2. Lots of fresh produce and seafood all year ‘round.
This one means a lot to me, because I really rely on the stuff. I don’t eat meat, and I only eat a small amount of seafood, so I need all the fruit and veg I can get. Things are in season longer, there is more variety, there is more inventory, and things just plain taste better.
The seafood is superb here. Of course, lots of it is frozen, but I never seem to taste it here. Growing up in Chicagoland, all the fish seemed to taste “fishy.” Here, it never tastes that way. And the sushi is fantastic. There are sushi places everywhere, and the quality is brilliant. Even the fish in the grocery store is great. There’s more on offer than just fish sticks here. I consider myself extremely lucky to live here, near so many foods that I love.
3. We’re a test market.
We get new flavors of gum (Mint Chip), wacky fruit (Mango/Nectarine hybrids), new car models (The Toyota “Hardbody” mini pickup truck), silly snack foods (Oreo Cakesters), and crazy soda flavors (Vanilla Coke). Life around here can be very entertaining. I’ve tried that gum (yech) and that fruit (bitter, but interesting). I’ll skip the other items, and just sit back and wait for the next item to hit the shelves (or street, as logic dictates).
4. Really good shopping.
If I want to drive for two hours, I can be in Beverly Hills, and hit Rodeo. If I am feeling less adventurous (read: lazy), I can drive an hour or so in either direction to two very superb shopping malls. In these malls, I can visit Hermès, Prada, Jimmy Choo, Carolina Herrera, Chanel, Hugo Boss, Miu Miu, Christian Louboutin, Donna Karan, Salvatore Ferragamo, Balenciaga, Chloé, La Perla, Giorgio Armani, J.Crew, Adidas, and Nike.
Mind you, I don’t ever buy anything in any of those stores except the last three on the list. (Well, that’s not entirely true: I’ve bought things in Chloé, but not for some time.) But I like to look, and absorb the atmosphere, and be in the presence of beautiful handbags, shoes, and clothes as much as the next girl. I always enjoy walking into those up market stores wearing flip-flops, shorts, and a t-shirt, because you can do that here. It’s certainly not tasteful to appear dressed this way in these shops, and it’s probably not respectful, but we all do it (locals, I mean), and sometimes the most casually dressed people drop the most cash. Luckily, shop employees understand this and are willing to help. All it takes is some politesse.
5. We have Rubio’s.
Rubio’s is the only fast food I’ll eat. Fish tacos? Yes please! Go ahead, everyone, groan. I did too, when I first heard about them. When I moved to California in 1989, I thought fish tacos sounded awful. After eating soggy fish sticks in the school cafeteria and at home, I couldn’t imagine anything less . . . congruent. Or less appetizing. But it makes perfect sense if you look at things geographically. Both tacos and fish are local, so why not combine the two? Mind you, I don’t eat the batter-fried versions, because I don’t see the point in fried fish covered with oily breadcrumbs. I eat the ones with grilled fish. I’m a fish taco snob.
When I was on an extended stay in London a few years ago, I invited some people over to my place for fish tacos. It took some convincing, but they kept open minds, and became fish-taco converts.
As I survey this list, I see that it’s strongly slanted toward food. Perhaps I need to branch out a little, and learn more about the world around me than just what’s for dinner and where to buy workout clothes. Eh, maybe not! Thank you for reading, Ladies and Gentlemen! It’s time for me to go get a snack.
~enc
