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Hello everyone, isn’t it great to be in California?
If you hesitated when asked this question then I am assuming that you haven’t like me, spent the last three years in North Carolina. If you had then you would know for a fact that it is fantastic to be here.
I kissed the ground when we crossed the border from Arizona a month ago with our two dogs, Tiny and Rhino and a third one, picked up from the freeway that we were hoping to reunite with its owner. My husband James had just completed eight years of service in the Marine Corps and we couldn’t get away from his previous duty station fast enough.
I, being British, had found the South even harder to cope with than he had and couldn’t wait to be back in my idea of civilization. I’m not going to bash on North Carolina but I do think that as a young person it is important to examine the older generation where you live because that is your future if you stay there.
Californian women in their forties and fifties are strong and sexy. They eat healthy food, ride horses on the weekend, enjoy trips to wineries, the theater, concerts. They’re interesting to talk to and fun to be around. Most of the middle-aged women that I encountered in the South were riding motorized carts around Walmart.
But enough about that because I don’t want to talk about the dark side any more. In fact just thinking about it gives me palpitations. Instead I want to talk about my new life in California where the climate is, as my husband describes it, “room temperature” and the land is so fertile that you can see your food growing from the road. Here in Fallbrook every tree groans with oranges, lemons and avocados. This means that I am literally never more than ten yards from a living source of cocktails and dip and what a comforting thought that is.
Our current location is temporary as we are planning to buy in San Diego proper but it is a great place to decompress. It also appears to be overrun with my fellow countrymen although I am yet to meet them. The clues are in the grocery stores where Marmite, Branston and Cadbury stand proudly on the shelves next to the more exotic (well at least to me) taco shells and salsas. Major market, a locally-owned joint on Main St appears to be our unofficial headquarters with not one but three sections devoted to treats from home including frozen bangers and Cornish Pasties. I know the Brits are there in force because whereas usually the offerings for expats consist of a couple of static, dusty cartons of Birds Eye Custard, these products are flying off the shelves. Someone bought out all of the Irn Bru last week.
It's been a month since we moved and already I am blossoming here, stuffed with avocados and sunshine. The copious quantities of guacamole that I am consuming may make me fat but by God I will have glorious skin. I have scrubbed, bleached and cajoled the dark dye out of my hair and drenched myself in fake tan to simulate the California glow. Like the majority of people here, I am happy and it shows. I’m blending in, assimilating, becoming almost indistinguishable from the locals.
Or at least I will be once I find a good dentist…
Hello everyone, isn’t it great to be in California?
If you hesitated when asked this question then I am assuming that you haven’t like me, spent the last three years in North Carolina. If you had then you would know for a fact that it is fantastic to be here.
I kissed the ground when we crossed the border from Arizona a month ago with our two dogs, Tiny and Rhino and a third one, picked up from the freeway that we were hoping to reunite with its owner. My husband James had just completed eight years of service in the Marine Corps and we couldn’t get away from his previous duty station fast enough.
I, being British, had found the South even harder to cope with than he had and couldn’t wait to be back in my idea of civilization. I’m not going to bash on North Carolina but I do think that as a young person it is important to examine the older generation where you live because that is your future if you stay there.
Californian women in their forties and fifties are strong and sexy. They eat healthy food, ride horses on the weekend, enjoy trips to wineries, the theater, concerts. They’re interesting to talk to and fun to be around. Most of the middle-aged women that I encountered in the South were riding motorized carts around Walmart.
But enough about that because I don’t want to talk about the dark side any more. In fact just thinking about it gives me palpitations. Instead I want to talk about my new life in California where the climate is, as my husband describes it, “room temperature” and the land is so fertile that you can see your food growing from the road. Here in Fallbrook every tree groans with oranges, lemons and avocados. This means that I am literally never more than ten yards from a living source of cocktails and dip and what a comforting thought that is.
Our current location is temporary as we are planning to buy in San Diego proper but it is a great place to decompress. It also appears to be overrun with my fellow countrymen although I am yet to meet them. The clues are in the grocery stores where Marmite, Branston and Cadbury stand proudly on the shelves next to the more exotic (well at least to me) taco shells and salsas. Major market, a locally-owned joint on Main St appears to be our unofficial headquarters with not one but three sections devoted to treats from home including frozen bangers and Cornish Pasties. I know the Brits are there in force because whereas usually the offerings for expats consist of a couple of static, dusty cartons of Birds Eye Custard, these products are flying off the shelves. Someone bought out all of the Irn Bru last week.
It's been a month since we moved and already I am blossoming here, stuffed with avocados and sunshine. The copious quantities of guacamole that I am consuming may make me fat but by God I will have glorious skin. I have scrubbed, bleached and cajoled the dark dye out of my hair and drenched myself in fake tan to simulate the California glow. Like the majority of people here, I am happy and it shows. I’m blending in, assimilating, becoming almost indistinguishable from the locals.
Or at least I will be once I find a good dentist…