Southern California. Sun. Mountains tumble into the sea. Deep blue seas curdle white where they pound the beaches. Palm trees line the highways, adorn the towns. Scrub brushes and stunted trees crowd with pale pink rock on the hillsides. The air exudes extravagance. The fast lane. The pampered life, even though that’s not universally true. Spending. Opulence. New. Fancy. But not too obnoxious in the areas I visited. Californians are creatures bound to their vehicles, but the vast majority of drivers are very polite. Signaling lane changes. Leaving plenty of room. Letting you in when you need to get into or cross their lane. The highways are laid out clearly and function well, when accidents or other obstacles don’t cause traffic jams.
I don’t get to spend a lot of time absorbing the area. No time to visit the nearby parks or even the beach. Just a taste and then back to the blizzard back home. More importantly, my husband awaits me there. No place can win me over if he is not there. Not matter how much sun it holds in February.