The Bosom Of The Pacific Ocean

So I'm back, and my homework is lolling and prom is looming and tennis is lurking and another week of school, complete with fine arts banquet/Econ Challenge/State KB is lurching towards me. Yet here I am, blogging.

I'll give a brief summary for anyone who has an important meeting to get to or something: The plane rides were uneventful, Disneyland exceeded my expectations, the Getty was slightly ridiculous (and J. Paul Getty said "Yes, yes, I will build an art museum...ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN!") but impressive, the Zoo was mildly depressing yet wildly entertaining, San Diego was pretty, and Los Angeles sucked.

Now, I realize that hatin' on L.A. is the cool thing to do. But I really did dislike the place. It felt fake, forced, phony, as if it weren't a real city at all, just some cardboard buildings lined up along the highway. The street vendors were paid actors. The palm trees were mass produced like pink flamingos. Even the mountains felt fake, like something the residents had had erected so they'd have something to look at while they sat in their hottubs.

I find my dislike of L.A. rather odd. I love the mountainous and generally rugged terrain of the American West, and I like the other big cities I've visited, but something about this particular combination of the two rubbed me the wrong way.

On the plus side, L.A. did afford me the chance to have a little Big Lebowski experience:

1.As we flew in over the city at night, I couldn't help but quote The Stranger: "See, they call Los Angeles the "City Of Angels"; but I didn't find it to be that, exactly."

2. In "Frontierland" at Disneyland, as we walked by an Olde Tyme Saloon, I was pleasantly suprised to hear "Tumblin' Tumbleweeds" playing from its outdoor loudspeakers.

3. On our way out of town I totally saw a big neon sign for an In N' Out Burger.
More California moaning and groaning to follow. Up next: why digital cameras are a bad thing.