DATE: Friday 8 September, 1995
PLACE: San Simeon to Los Angeles
WEATHER: Cool but warming
REMARKS: The morning sees San Simeon still wreathed in mist,
so we go for a refreshing walk to the nearby beach. The Pacific
is still there, and the beach is suitably eerie; it is also
made up of multi-coloured stones - so I struggle to convince
the kids that they will weigh too much to take any home. Needless
to say I loose!
Another hearty breakfast before we head for Hearst Castle.
This has a beautiful modern visitors centre and a typically
American system for controlling visitors. The bus takes us
up through the mist to the hilltop site on which stands the
monument to the man's wealth and other people's tastes.
The edifice is a little like the parson's egg: good in parts;
in fact all of its parts are good, it's just that they don't
always go together. Some lovely imported artifacts from Spain,
but one wonders why the intense urge to re-create a Spanish
oasis in California. The tour is lead by a charming guide
who is relaxed, and very informative, and takes what is an
interesting variation. He is clearly confident of his ability
to answer questions about the family, the man, and the house,
and so invites questions and uses them as the starting point
for his descriptions; no 'stick to the patter at all costs'
for him.
One is left wondering what might have happened if the State
of California had declined to accept Hearst's offer of the
mansion (as a trade-off for tax breaks). And also at the megalomania
of the tycoons of the era.
However, it is now time to go south again, so we do. The
road continues along the coast and passes towns redolent of
Spanish influences and rock music, like The Eagles' Hotel
California.
We pause at a 'factory seconds' mall -which is like a collection
of shops arranged in a 'wagon-wheel' circled to keep at bay
the Indians, all facing inwards onto a large car-park. Interestingly,
this pattern of designer shops (Levi's, Esprit, etc.) selling
end-runs and seconds will shortly develop in New Zealand.
We restrict ourselves to a few items for Charlotte and Jayne
and a shirt for me; however, Desiree can again say she had
a look.
We are now on the outskirts of LA, although that seems something
of a misnomer, as it goes on for a very long time. We find
ourselves enmeshed in the peak-hour traffic on the freeway
and are reduced to a crawl.
Despite this we are still in good time and, without difficulty,
find the correct turnoff. The rental depot is alongside the
airport and, once the car is returned, we are shuttled to
the Terminal.
As on our previous visit, we have time to kill, which is
just as well, as the number of tickets we have, and the need
to keep track of the vouchers for the Auckland-Wellington
leg almost proves too much for the clerk at the check-in counter.
Again we have time to kill and, again find LA airport the
least interesting one we have encountered.
A little late, we board.
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