California

It is still dark when I nudge Snowdrop to wake up. More than an hour away before sunrise here, in Laguna Beach California. 

Do you want to shower?

You said we could do evening. She loves the idea of evening because at home, there isn't time for it then, so she does morning (showers).

And quickly -- can I play with it? She'd spotted the little plastic toy I'd packed for her. I almost always bring one such toy for her on our trips. She fills her downtime spinning stories with its inconsequential tiny characters.

Sure.

And then at 6:45, we get in our booked cab and head to Anaheim. 

So serendipitous! Originally, I had thought I'd take Snowdrop for a long weekend away in Maine. (I know, we'd likely be on lockdown right now.) But I know this about the girl: wherever we go, she is happy. But if there's a pool, she's always twice as happy. I could find no interesting place to visit in Maine that did not require a long drive and that had an open pool in October. I tried, but I couldn't do it. So I turned to California. Someplace not too built up, within about an hour of an airport to which Delta flies. Hence, Laguna Beach.

About a week ago, Snowdrop was telling her best school friend about her forthcoming trip to California. Well now, the girl, herself born in L.A., was going there this long weekend too! (School is closed Thursday, Friday). She goes once a year. And always spends a day or two at Disney with her parents. When the girls shared this information with their adults, the next idea was this: could Snowdrop go to Disneyland with her friend? Yes she could.

Woah! This was thrilling to both girls, but I think especially to Snowdrop, who has been wishing for Disney, either the Florida or California one, for years. ALL her friends have been! (Snowdrop's parents are waiting until her brothers are old enough to appreciate all the attractions.)  It was just too fortuitous, too perfect.

Then came Covid. Hope, so quickly set loose, became fragile. My rebound led Snowdrop to text constantly -- how are you? how are you? how are you?? Gaga! Answer! All I could do is text back -- I'm trying, Snowdrop, I'm trying. Let's not give up hope.

Teetering on the precipice, the trip grew and grew in importance. On the day I finally was sure I would be good to go, the girl still couldn't believe it. Honestly, until we got in the cab to go to Anaheim, I'm sure she  lived in fear that this unexpected gift, this delight would be lost to unfortunate circumstance.

So here we are in that cab,  zipping next to the hills of Southern California...

She asks -- gaga, what's your favorite part of the hotel? She knows it's a huge splurge for me. A once in a lifetime deal.

Easy -- eating outside with you yesterday, and at night, keeping the doors open (to the terrace) and listening to the sound of waves crashing.

Yeah, me too. Nature's white noise! And I love the terrace comfy chairs. But maybe the pool too, once I try it.

I smile. Yes, in many ways you could say we are here because of the pool (kept open year round, 24/7, at 80F/27C).

Her friend's mom, a Disney pro, meets us at the Disney drop off point. 7:30 and the place is filling with people in a hurry. Honestly, at this hour, mostly grownups.  Has Disney always been such a draw to adults? We took our daughters to the Florida one when they were preteens. Then, separately, when in California on other business, I dropped them at the California one when one was just a freshman in college and the other a freshman in high school. My daughter tells me that it was one of her most treasured memories of time spent with her sister.

I hope this Disney visit will be that to Snowdrop. 

Back at the hotel, the sun is just pushing away the cloud cover. It's going to be a glorious day. A high of 67F (20C), but their 67 feels a lot warmer than ours in the Midwest!

I eat breakfast at the same casual hotel eatery. Outside again. My Covid cough is almost gone. Everything about Covid for me is, well, almost gone. But I am deemed safe. And my granddaughter made it to Disneyland. I am beyond grateful.

(I've been in enough coastal towns to know that these gulls are beautiful, territorial, bold, and loud. To the visitor -- cunning and fun thieves!)

By the way, what's blooming at Laguna Beach right now? Let's see...

(At the farmette, we're getting our first deep frost on Sunday, so whatever is still putting forth blooms or new growth will abruptly stop this weekend.)

After breakfast, I check out the Pacific Ocean. 

This requires taking the hotel steps down to their northern corner of the long beach area. It feels very quiet here. It's not private, thank God. I do not like private water access, and in California, you can't keep people off the sands (at least up to the high water line, though you can work wonders by blocking off access paths and not creating parking nearby). I read that in July and August, this beach can get pretty darn full (which in my opinion is great -- some of my best people watching times have been on beaches!). But now, at the end of October, rare is the soul that hangs out here on a weekday.

(Strong currents, big waves, make for wet pants by the end of my walk; powerful sun rays make for dry pants by early afternoon.)

There are plenty of gulls who make up for it!

This is a protected marine life area and you cannot remove anything from the beach, not even a pebble or a shell. This, too, is a good thing: how many times have your kids twisted your arm into bringing home rocks and shells that then are forgotten? How many shells do you have where you haven't a clue as to where or when you picked them? So, advance warning to Snowdrop: no, you cannot take it home! It's THE LAW!

The tidal pools here are extraordinary!

As are some of the clifftop homes.

So much wealth in the hands of a few! [And yes, I get that I am myself staying at a hotel that is full of people who are in a whole other, unknown to me league of spending power. I honestly like being the poorest person in the entire resort. (No sane person on my state employee's retirement would blow precious savings on a weekend here). It lessens the guilt. (Again, I absolutely blame Covid for the extravagance.) The hotel itself is not pompous and that is a relief. And many of the guests are actually Midwesterners just like me. I've heard Chicago mentioned in a number of places. I see a Wisconsin t-shirt. It's not like East Coast wealth, which is often subtle but with rules of conduct and attire. (I saw that when I was a nanny for a rich family for all those years.) 

(life guard on duty every day, crowds or no crowds; I ask him if he has a lot of cases that need his attention. rip currents, he tells me. sometimes you have to bring the people back to shore...)

And the late afternoon? By the pool, with my computer. Trying to not love a bit of strong sunshine, which is like alcohol -- addictive and ultimately not healthy, though offering some immediate gratification.  Using lots of sunscreen. Feeling so much stronger than on Sunday! Enjoying a lunch of a latte and banana bread.

And toward evening, I catch my ride to Disneyland, three times as long now, in rush hour traffic! Oh, those loathsome crowded LA highways, where 90% of the vehicles have no more than one passenger in them. You suck the joy out of moving from one place to the next!

Did she have a good time? Does this even require an answer?

Yes it does.

Her friend's parent is sitting with her on a bench scanning carefully each car that pulls up. I get it: we're late. She's tired, the parent is anxious to get back to his own little group. As we drive up, she jumps in the car before I even have a chance to roll down the window to talk to the parent, to find out, to thank, to settle accounts.

And on the ride back, I have questions, and I get her Madison family on the line and they have questions, and she tries, she really tries. But anyone who knows her can tell -- there's something off. 

Finally, she breaks down for me. It's that rash.

She got it in the middle of the night. Just a little one, just on her hands and around an ankle. She came to me with it and honestly, my immediate thought was -- bed bugs! I'd been to Paris, and I caught their paranoia!

In the morning, however, I carefully inspected everything and concluded, quite correctly, that this isn't bedbugs. Maybe an allergic reaction to something.... Who can tell.... She is well otherwise. I put it aside.

By pick up time, though, the rash had spread. Her feet were itching uncontrollably. Her hands were not much better. She was miserable.

Two things to note: she never complained during the day. She did not want to ruin anyone's Disney moment. And, too, she said that during many of the rides, she would manage to forget about it. But in the end, the rash was too bold, too present to ignore. And so I said to the driver -- for an extra $10, can you take us to a pharmacy on the way home?

He scoped out the situation quickly. No $10 needed. I'll take you to a CVS pharmacy. And guess what? It's right across the street from your hotel!

Normally, these cab drivers that are used almost exclusively by hotels, are not your chatty guys who want to hear all about your trip and tell you all about the greatness of Laguna Beach. Driving big clean cars is their job, you are not unique, they just want you to be comfortable and they get you to where you want to go as quickly as is humanly possible (which, on LA freeways, can be either demonically fast, or, more typically, going 1 mile per hour). In silence. And this is often my preference as well. In the morning, my cab driver and I listened to his Beatle music without exchanging more than two sentences (mine: could you please turn down the AC?)

But this guy, he had suffered the lateness of the pick up with me (you picking up your daughter? Can you text her that we're late? No, my granddaughter and she does not yet have a cell phone and I'm too embarrassed to keep texting her friend's parents). And now he was suffering with me the swollen itchy extremities of said child. So in the last twenty minutes of our ride, I asked him about this job of his: driving guests in the crazy congested freeways of this car-dependant state.

And Snowdrop and I learned a lot. 

He's Egyptian. With lots of family back in Egypt. And he works hard, here in Laguna Beach. Today, he'd been driving since 4:30 a.m and now, at nearly 7 p.m., he still had a ride to take on. He needs the money. To send back to these guys in Egypt. My wife left me because I work too hard. She said I'm married to my job. 

But, no complaints: he has been doing this for several decades and it allows him to have a decent life. And his passengers! Recently, he was called upon to drive one of the wives of the former president of Qatar. And her sisters and eleven girls and their body guards. Each person had two body guards.

They dont stay at your hotel, he tells me, giving me tons of reassurance there! They stay at the Laguna Beach Pelican Hill Resort. Prices for a room start at $5000 a night, he says. 

I bring up the Middle East crisis. He shakes his head -- it's hopeless. Those leaders, they never want what's good for the people. They exploit the poor so that they add not trillions, but even more to their wealth. They're all the same!

His pessimism is profound. Snowdrop, for once forgets about her swollen feet, hands....

Still, our driver considers himself to have a good life. I live near Disneyland -- it's cheaper there. I send  money to my parents, my aunt, my siblings back home. None of them have any money.  (He himself is older, but has no kids).

And now we are at the pharmacy and the little girl is in distress, just barely holding it together. The pharmacist -- so often a resource for me when I am traveling, takes one look and says -- give her Benadryl, rub on some XX, 

Should I take her in to have this checked out? She shrugs: mostly you can't tell where it comes from. Allergy? She touched something? Impossible to know!

We go to the CVS public bathroom, use copious amounts of the cream on her feet and I give her the antihistamine she so desperately needs.

And within a few minutes, she improves. 

It's really late, but we do still have to eat dinner. We're dining at the same place -- she's just cycling through the kid options and I'm using up my "resort credits" down to the last dollar. Tonight, she chooses spaghetti (and bread and good butter!) and I choose the sea bass and we both love our food.

She hasn't the energy to stick around for dessert. I send her to our room, settle the bill, and more slowly,  make my way back. 

I had said to her -- you'll always remember this day! I'm sure I am right: first Disney visit, and itchy feet!

Tomorrow she will join me in our Laguna Beach exploration. Well, not the town. Not even the State Park just up the road from us. I dont want to fly anywhere, drive anywhere, do anything at all that's even mildly complicated. Simple. Interesting. Fun. That's all we need. We'll find it within walking distance. Along the shoreline.

with so much love...