California Love

Ok, I am blogging to you (all three of you who read this) from sunny Vallejo, CA in the upstairs area of my Auntie Alma's house.

Yesterday, I drove my parents here from Portland. It took about 12 hours due to traffic (and that one time we sort of got turned about). I liked the Oregon bit of driving, all winding mountain roads, pine trees all around, half-expecting a deer or bigfoot or something to pop around the next corner.

Then there was the California part of the drive. Maybe we took a wrong turn into the Twilight Zone, but it reminded me of Illinois, straight stretches of farm country, highway hypnosis kicking in enough to make me wonder if my parents had somehow tricked me into coming back.

As I groggily made it up the ramp to American Canyon (I am not making that name up), I noticed that the houses were a lot like my uncle's place in Las Vegas, that sort of pseudo-Spanish adobe style with tile roofing where every house in the subdivision looks exactly the same. If it wasn't for the GPS, I don't think I could have found Auntie Alma's house. I don't know, I figure if I'm going to spend that much on a house, it should at least be interesting looking or at the very least not look like every house in the subdivision.

I also couldn't help but notice how brown the rest of the hills looked, but not only was there green grass and trees in the subdivision, there was an entire golf course plus some sort of waterfall by the sign welcoming us to the subdivision. Isn't there supposed to be some sort of water shortage or am I just imagining things? Not to mention the "gated" aspect of the community. I had the paranoid fear that if I stepped on the grass, several armed guards would have me pinned on the ground before I could even say "sorry."

This is just sort of why I never really got into living in California. Sure, it's pretty, but there's an artificialness to the pretty. For example, when we went out to eat yesterday at some Chinese buffet in American Canyon, there were almost-pornographic glossy posters on the window of glistening meats on beds of fresh, green vegetables. From what my friend Emily, the nutritionist, told me, a lot of the ads for food put things on the food that render them inedible, but appetizing-looking (like shellac on meats, shaving cream instead of whipped cream on desserts, etc.). The food itself was more or less the usual buffet fare, sitting under lights for awhile and of course, looking nothing like the poster. Still, after an entire day of driving, I probably would have eaten the tires we drove in on.

Then today, as we drove through Napa Valley, the olive groves did vaguely remind me of the Tuscan countryside and there was even a castle (the Castello di Amarosa), albeit painstakingly re-created for accuracy, still nowhere near centuries old. At some point, Dad even made a crack about how Old Faithful in Calistoga was probably powered by machine every 15 minutes instead of a natural geyser (although I still think it would be in poor form if the US Geological Survey lied about something like that).

Steinbeck would probably roll in his grave at my rather unfair assessment of his country. Then again, he would probably roll in his grave at what has become of it: air-conditioned strip malls, all-you-can-eat buffets, paid tours and tastings at vineyards, skyrocketing real estate prices. Not to mention my parents commenting on how cheap the produce was as listed (3 for $1 cantaloupe?) on various signs on the side of the road. Part of me wonders if that is due to a direct "discount" as bought directly from the growers or if this is due to unfair labor practices. Of course, that just reminded me of the documentary I saw recently about labor organizers back in the 20s like Jose Garcia Villa and of course, Cesar Chavez from the 60s.

At any rate, as snarky as this post may seem, I'm having a fair enough time here, seeing family, etc.

... I just fear that I may have to bike extra-long routes to and from work when I get back to make up for all the eating we're doing here.

For example, Seafood City is this huge Filipino grocery store. Along with the grocery area, there are a couple of fast food restaurants, a travel agency and a hair salon. There's also a video/music store that specializes in import media. Most of the movie posters looked similar to ad campaigns for US films. From the look of it, Filipinos love romantic comedies (or weepy romantic tragedies where you can tell that someone probably dies at the end just from looking at the poster). One movie titled "Desperadas" sort of looked like it was the Philippine version of Desperate Housewives.

We ate at one of the restaurants ($4.75 for a combo of rice+two entrees and a bowl of soup). Pinakbet, kare-kare, bangus, bistek, lumpia... all of these things I have missed in the past couple of years. Naturally, I overdid it, but it was so worth it even if my heart is still palpitating from the fried fish and eggrolls and my arteries are clogging due to the massive amounts of sodium I took in. If there's one thing Filipinos love, it's to have food that is salty and fatty as fuckall. The kare-kare came with bagoong (naturally) and Dad still asked where the patis (salty fish sauce) was.

If you'll excuse me, I think I need to sleep it off. Chances are, when I wake up, everyone else will be up and about... searching for the next thing to devour or at least talking about going somewhere to eat.