It’s Day One and we’re jumping over several time zones; the 8 hours between London and Los Angeles stretch our 24 hour day to 35. We tried to check in by Internet last night but Steve’s name came up differently between the passport and the ticket. Then it said there was an error and please try later. Arriving at Heathrow we wondered if Steve was going to be refused boarding due to a travel agent’s spelling error?
However, check-in went without disappointment and we were soon at gate B36 buying Harrods gift mugs for our hosts in Santa Barbara. On the 747-400, roast beef and yorkshires in Bacofoil followed, by Bruce Willis on the small screen in “Red” (1). Awesome holiday!
The volcanos of Iceland have diverted our flight southward, taking an extra hour. How many movies can you watch in 12 hours? (In sixty days?) Mary watched “Another Year”. I continued with The Tourist (2), Rite (3), and The Mechanic (4). Lots of shooting and laughs. Only American movies can imbue violence and destruction with such an uplifting joie de vivre!
I have also started my paper scrap book, so there are two parallel stories being written. You’re reading the public (digital) edition, but another private (analogue) story has drawings and disclosures, cuttings and confessions, thoughts and dreams. All the time I’m really enjoying travel without a business mission. No receipts or expenses; no colleagues or clients; no measurements no success no failure. On the other hand it was nice to have IBM pay for business class seats! Still, How wonderful to know that delays are not a problem, the ticket stub can decorate the scrap book – not the expenses sheet, that the exchange of business cards has become a gesture of friendship with no hidden intent.
Sorry,.. no topical pictures yet. Our first generation iPods do not have cameras. Maybe in Santa Barbara we’ll get an iPad which can read photos from the camera and post them into our web-log. Until then I’ll try to describe California in words.
As soon as we step out on the streets of L.A. The air is sweet and cool, the sun is bright, and we appear to be in a scene from an American movie. All the trucks, cars, signs and people that we associate with Flipper & Friends, Cheers & Chips, or whatever one watches these days. As the 10-lane freeway is slow, the Santa Barbara AirBus diverts to the coast, and we drive past Malibu wind surfers, Pepperdine Uni, Ventura Highway, and for two hours by the beaches, palms, and Pacific waves; imagining the Beach Boys arriving in hot rods on such an afternoon in ’65.
The Russells are waiting for us in Santa Barbara and bring us home to the most amazing apartment looking over the Pacific. It’s great to catch up. There are no street lights so we can see the stars. What a day this has been.