I remember for my 9th birthday treat going to the cinema with my family and some friends from school who all came home for a birthday tea. In those days you actually got dressed up to go to the cinema, especially on your birthday! I felt very grown up as the film, although a musical, had serious 'tough guy' actors in it; Lee Marvin and Clint Eastwood; that 1968 film was 'Paint your Wagon', re-telling the gritty story of the Californian Gold Rush. Of course I had no way of knowing then, that one day I would live in Northern California and on a regular basis chase up the freeway to Lake Tahoe, by-passing the small mining towns and trails from those early pioneer years. It's a journey we have probably done more than any other but this time we abandoned the four lanes of incessant traffic to follow historic Route 49. It twisted and turned its way through some stunning scenery, every hairpin a delight for my chauffeur, who gripped the wheel of his beloved German automobile in sheer delight! Set against a back drop of distant mountains, the narrow meandering route 49, lined with towering pines and sequoias followed the path of the bubbling, chuckling Yuba River; it reminded us of similar drives in France, Switzerland and Italy; maybe it was prophetic that the song I remember most from 'Paint Your Wagon' was the gravely tones of Lee Marvin singing 'I was born under a wandering star! Serendipitous perhaps that our journey took us through Downieville, the very heart of the Gold Rush and probably what the fictitious 'No Name city' was modeled on.

Scattered along the route were small 'one horse' towns, their long ago abandoned buildings offering the promise of a new venture for a modern day pioneering soul!

The route climbed and then descended before making its way up again, unlike the gradual ascent on the '80' freeway. It followed the Yuba river, originally the home of the Nisenan people who for thousands of years had lived in small villages ranging in size from 15 to 500 people, by the streams and rivers of the Sierra foothills.

Eventually we were above historic Downieville,

about to embark on a charming journey back to the 19th century.

When gold was discovered here in 1849, Downieville became the most important gold rush town in the area. By 1850 it had 15 hotels and gambling houses, 4 bakeries and 4 butchers and 5000 people!

When Sierra County was established in 1850 and a bid was made for the state capital, Downieville received only less than 10 votes than Sacramento, how different history would have played out!
Back in 1849 gold was everywhere, reportedly a house wife discovered $500 worth just on sweeping the earth on her kitchen floor!

Route 49 runs right through its center, passing by the local theatre.

Evidence of the town's rich mining past is scattered through out the town,

all so crucial in their time, now just reminders of a bygone era.

A sixth sized scaled down model of an old gold ore grinding machine.

Route 49 led us out of town across the single lane 'Jersey Bridge' where the gold was first discovered.

After Downieville we continued to climb up into the Sierras
We continued on through Sierra City, passing it's 19th century country store.

Eventually the Sierra Plains peeked through the sequoias,

wide open spaces full of grazing cattle stretched for miles.


Route 49 finally met up with highway 89 and were on familiar territory heading towards Truckee, Lake Tahoe.
If you have the time it is so worth taking this journey back in time through California's history, it's beautiful scenery and spectacular vistas in what my father always told me is 'God's country'.........

Download the Lake Tahoe, California Travel Guide PDF here

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A visit to any one of the spectacular outdoor museums, which are America’s breathtaking National Parks, always fills me with wonder. The grandeur and magnificence of nature laid out before you to stare and marvel at. Our recent trip to California’s Sequoia National Park, America's second oldest National Park, reminded me of just how miraculous nature is. Towering Sequoia trees, crisp, air fragrant with pine, mountainous views reaching into the sky and stretching far into the horizon. Imposing granite rock faces dominating all around them, challenging the most intrepid to conquer them. For over 125 years this incredible park system has worked tirelessly to preserve and maintain these natural phenomena for the millions who come annually from all across the globe, simply asking of them ‘to take only memories and leave only footprints’.
On route to Sequoia National park, the Freeways through California's Central Valley, often called the produce garden of America, were lined with oleanders reminding us of the Autoroutes du sud de la France, especially on the A8 towards Nice, how far away we were from there.
Miles of orchards and fields of lush crops gave way to vines as we became closer to the Sierras.

A Central Valley Farmstead just outside the entrance to the park.

Lake Kaweah, its' water kissed by the colours of the sky

The Entrance to Sequoia National Park, founded in 1890. Many of its breathtaking natural wonders were explored and logged by the naturalist John Muir.

Tunnel Rock

Climbing up through the park through its snaking hair pin bends we were reminded again of the South of France and driving though the Tarn Valley.

We ascended to over eight thousand feet, each side of the road flanked by spectacular views.

Dominating the horizon was Morro Rock, glimpses of it peeking through the tress on every twisting curve of the road.

Eventually this imposing granite face filled the horizon.

Finally we were driving through the Sequoia trees; I was reminded of the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson "In the woods too a man casts off his years...& at what period so ever of life, is always a child. In the woods is perpetual youth."

The sheer size of these majestic trees was breathtaking.

The Giant Forest Museum, provided a perspective of their size.

We then visited the jewel of this forest, the 2,200 year old 'General Sherman', a name bestowed upon it by naturalist James Wolverton, who had served as a lieutenant in the 9th Indiana Cavalry under General William Tecumseh Sherman in the Civil War.
These concentric slabs represent the size of its girth, about 109 feet (33m)

General Sherman is the largest tree in the world, not by height but by the vast volume of its trunk, 52 500 cubic feet (1487 cubic meters). Interestingly it is actually dead at the top but each year its trunk continues to increase. It is estimated to weigh 1385 tons. If it were filled with water there would be enough to fill 9844 baths!!

Its uneven shape and gnarly furrows is caused by natural growth and fire scars.

Standing beside this mighty child of nature one feels almost insignificant as it towers 275 feet above you.

We continued our journey reaching over 8000 feet and at last were afforded views of neighbouring Kings Canyon National Park. "The air up there .....is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be? It's the same the angels breathe" Mark Twain

We left this magical place heading west then north for home, back by the vineyards of the Central Valley, near Fresno.

The images of the Sequoias will remain in our hearts for ever. "The real significance of wilderness is a cultural matter. It is far more than hunting, fishing, hiking camping or canoeing: it has to do with the human spirit" Sigurd F. Olson

Where to find Sequoia National Park

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The 350 miles, which separates San Francisco and the Bay Area from Los Angeles and the beaches of southern California, stretches like a flattened snake skin, slithering its way silently down the valley. The accompanying ribbon of traffic twists and turns unceasingly through these fertile plains. Vast acres of tilled fields which provide the replenishment for many of the fruit and vegetable baskets of North America and beyond, spreading out to the foothills of the Grapevine. At which point, these great folded wedges of land, scattered with trees, reach up several thousand feet, ascending the canyon to the Tejon Pass through the Tehachapi Mountains along Interstate 5, separating the San Joaquin Valley, before they disperse down into the massive conurbation which is southern California. The same land mass, the same state, but so different from the Bay Area in its dress, its style and its culture, one feels almost as if you have journeyed to a far off place.

The hills of the Angeles National Forest

and the inevitable traffic!!

The interstate traverses its way through almost 70 miles of cities and towns which seem to melt into each other like one gigantic man-made sprawl. Leaving the freeway to join the Pacific Coast Highway, which hugs the Orange County shoreline like a beaded necklace, tranquility awaits in the bay at Dana Point.

Small boats and sailing vessels make their way from the Pacific Ocean into the waterways of Newport Beach and Balboa Island

A small sailing boat, disappears into the late afternoon sunshine.

On the cliff side above Dana Point, rests the glitz of the Ritz! A place to see and be seen, to indulge and splurge, to melt into the world of Hollywood glamour, if ones so chooses!

It's Easter time,

and nothing here is understated!!

A poolside retreat to be waited on and spoiled whilst soaking up the sun!

Below the cliffs, at the feet of the grandeur of the Ritz, rests a glorious, golden, sandy beach which so typifies southern California. Southern California, a world of surf boards, bikinis, the Beach Boys, open top VW bugs and palm trees, the smell of salty water, coconut suntan oil and tequila pervading the air........

Million dollar homes dominate every spare inch of buildable space.

Pelicans hover in the thermals above the hotel's giant market umbrellas.


The headland of Laguna peeps over the abundance of shrubs and flowers.

Dazzling displays of color splash their brilliance against an azure blue ocean.

Californian lupins bow their heads to the surfers far below in the curling waves.

This is southern California, full of beautiful, sun-drenched beaches and 'beautiful' sun-tanned people. Far from San Francisco, far from anywhere, a land where it is sometimes said 'he who dies with the most toys wins', a place you either love or love to hate, crazy, stunning but surely fun to visit if just for a few short days to share in that "California dreaming'"!!!

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Driving to Las Vegas never ceases to amaze me. How did this world famous, vibrant, if not extremely bizarre, neon light, party place come to be in existence in the middle of an arid, almost barren desert, miles from anywhere? It also brings home the vastness of this great continent of the United States of America, its sheer size and contrast. Together with a renewed respect for all those that crossed its many plains through often extremely difficult, treacherous terrain by horse and wagon.
We however were able to appreciate the unique spectacle and beauty of the high desert from the comfort of a sophisticated, air-conditioned piece of German engineering, which despite the snaking weave of traffic, safely took us from Los Angeles to our glitzy destination within just a few hours.

The magic of the Mojave desert

The desert has its own magic, on a mid July afternoon it seemed dusted by a pink haze. That anything survives the intense heat is a miracle. It inspired me to want to consult 'the voice of Nature', David Attenborough, to re-watch one of his programs, where he so succinctly explains what lives and thrives in such conditions.

Miles and miles of tumble weed splattered dry dirt piling up against bleak, deserted, undulating mounds and hillsides.

Ivanpah Solar Power Facility

About 40 miles outside of Las Vegas, alomg interstate 15, we passed this 'movie set' - well that's what it looked like - some futuristic plant from a James Bond Film or Matthew McConaughey's 'Sahara'. We decided that maybe it was a solar energy station, it was an only an educated guess but it proved to be correct!

Las Vegas

Suddenly, appearing out of almost nowhere, even though you know this is actually where you are heading, you find yourselves arriving in a sparkling, man-made, over the top, high rise spectacle, where 'anything goes' and seemingly the more crazier and more outrageous the better. A place where other places are re-created in an unreal, frosted glaze.......

Hinkley, a world away

Two days later after our friends fabulous Las Vegas Wedding we made our return back to San Francisco, leaving this somewhat tawdry glamour behind us. Within a few of hours Vegas became a distant memory, so far removed was it from the complete contrast of Hinkley, the town whose water was contaminated by P.G.& E., made famous by Erin Brockovich and the movie about her story. It was humbling, you wonder how people come to live in such a desolate place, what they do for a living. Miles from anywhere, mostly too hot to farm, where even a trip to a grocery store of any size takes several hours. People endure amazingly different life styles, one person's reality is so incredibly far apart from another's, not just in other continents but right here in California, within a few hundred miles of where we live.

As we sped by dry and now almost deserted Hinkley, the land seems to have given up and shriveled

Mojave Desert to the Central Valley

As the Mojave Desert gradually gave way to the beginnings of the lushness of the Central Valley, daylight gradually faded and we were treated to a spectacular sunset. A blast of Mother Nature's brilliant colour, far more impressive and real than that we had just driven from.......

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The incredible Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles, occupying a prominent hillside site, close to the infamous 'HOLLYWOOD' sign, was my new Los Angeles discovery. It proves that there is always something new to learn about a city, no matter how little time you have during a hectic work schedule or how many times you have previously been there; even if you once lived there many years ago!
The night before we had celebrated a family birthday in The Firefly restaurant in Studio City, a Los Angeles suburb, another wonderful discovery. Discreetly tucked back on Ventura Boulevard, without even a sign to announce its existence, we were treated to a delicious, elegant meal in delightful 'indoor/outdoor' surroundings, chic but unpretentious and minimalistic, as this table center-piece attests:

The Griffith Observatory

The next morning found us at the Griffith Observatory. Just a couple of miles above Hollywood Blvd in Los Feliz, this grand lady has dominated the skyline since 1934. It's story however goes back much earlier...

The Griffith Observatory was built on property once belonging to the Fells family, who were given the land by the then Spanish Governor of California in 1775. In 1882, it was purchased by Griffith Jenkins Griffith, a wealthy mining speculator, from Wales, Britain. In 1896 Griffith donated 3,015 acres of the property to Los Angeles to create a ‘Great Park’ for the city, believing a park was vital if Los Angeles was to prosper as one of the world’s leading cities. Griffith Park went on to become the largest park in any American city  - today stretching to over 4000 acres. As a point of comparison, New York’s Central Park is 843 acres.

After visits to the Southern California Academy of Science and Mount Wilson, which at that time had the world’s largest telescope of 60 inches, in 1912 Griffith donated a further $100,000 to build an observatory. Griffith’s vision was to make science more accessible to the public providing them access to an astronomical telescope.  The observatory was shaped by some of the greatest scientists of the day and when it opened on May 14^th 1935 it also included a planetarium, the 3^rd in the United States. The Depression, which had reduced the prices of building materials meant some of the finest materials of the time were used for its construction.

Today the observatory has become an iconic Los Angeles landmark, visited by millions of people each year, who enjoy the impressive architecture and stunning views, but who are also granted free access to a very impressive science museum. Griffith's goal of presenting the wonders of science to the general public is beautifully executed within this informative and fascinating observatory.

Views of downtown Los Angeles through the smog!

Entrance to the Griffith Observatory

The Astronomer's Monument

Built by a Depression era Federal works program

The Hollywood Sign - 'where dreams come true'

This magnificent sign was constructed in 1923 at an epic cost of $21,000, to advertise an upscale Hollywood housing development in rapidly growing 'tinsel town'. The sign embodied a message both then and now: "this is the place where magic happens: where dreams come true".
Originally erected as 'Hollywoodland', the sign gradually fell into disrepair until 1949 when it was restored, loosing it's 'LAND', to become the iconic HOLLYWOOD of today. Sadly, over subsequent years it was not well maintained and began to rust, perhaps reflecting the recession within the movie industry itself. Finally in 1978 a massive restoration project was organized, leaving Hollywood without a sign for 3 months. The immense cost of rebuilding (an estimated $250 000), was largely donated through Hugh Hefner's efforts to enlist the support of Hollywood stars  - offering them the chance to sponsor a letter. Rocker, Alice Cooper bought an 'O', Gene Autry an 'L' and Andy Williams the 'W'.
194 tons of concrete, enamel and steel later, the sign once again dominated the Hollywood hills -  as if announcing the rebirth of the movie industry itself. Today, the sign is a universal landmark - featured in international millennium celebrations alongside The Egyptian Pyramids and Eiffel Tower. Protected by its trust and further fund raising efforts from Hefner ,the sign is an inspiring symbol and reminder to the world that Los Angeles remains the center of the magical movie industry, where for some; 'dreams do come true'!

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Driving south down California’s Interstate ‘5’, from San Francisco to Los Angeles, any time between mid July to mid September, you cannot fail to notice the caravan of northbound trucks hauling tomatoes in huge, white, open pallets. Where are they coming from and where are they headed? Why are the tomatoes not all carefully tissue wrapped in boxes, instead of being piled high and exposed to the elements? How do the not get ruined, especially the ones at the bottom which surely must be ground to a pulp? I decided to do some research and was astounded at what I discovered.

Central Valley produce and tomatoes!

Interstate '5', winds its way through California’s Central Valley, an abundant crop growing area, this much I knew but I never realized just the extent of this abundance. The Central Valley grows about 50% of America’ s fruit and nuts in addition to wheat, cotton and other crops. But the tomatoes!
13 million tones of tomatoes are grown here every year; it is a business worth about $1.5 billion annually! California produces between 90-95% of the processing tomatoes used in the United States and 1/3 of the world’s processed tomato products. During the summer a steady stream of trucks transport tomatoes north on Interstate '5', from areas like Yolo county, to plants close to Modesto, Lodi, Stockton and Sacramento in Northern California. Every day ½ million tones of tomatoes are processed in these northern Central Valley’s plants, producing goods such as canned tomatoes, pizza sauce, ketchup and salsa.

Canning tomatoes

These huge white bins trailing north, all contain canning tomatoes; they are small and have a thick skin which enables them to survive the harvesting and transporting process. They don't have to look pretty like the tomatoes we purchase in the grocery store. Those tomatoes have a thinner, more tender skin. They are generally hand picked and boxed before transport since the automated harvesting techniques would crush or bruise them.
The canning tomatoes are transported in open top bins, without a tarp to reduce the transportation loading times at both ends and also to maintain quality. Using a tarp would trap heat in the tubs, and potentially degrade the quality of the tomatoes. Also with some loads being picked in as little as 15 minutes, and a charge per load by the hauler, many growers try to get as many tomatoes in as few trailers as possible. This means filling them to the brim and a little over in order to save costs.

The Central Valley Project, providing water

So why is the Central Valley such a productive region? Up until the 1930’s this area was a bare desert.

However the soil here was very fertile soil and its wide temperature range of 90–100 degrees in the day, cooling down to a mild 60’s at night, made it a potentially ideal growing region, the only thing it lacked was water. In the 1940's the Central Valley Project (CVP) resolved the water issue, building dams such as Shasta, Friant and Folsom to divert water south to irrigate 3 million acres of farmland, one of the largest water systems in the world. This project has not been without controversy and has become a huge political issue. Without the water there would be no crops and what would chefs and consumers everywhere do without these tomatoes?!

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“We decided not to go to Europe this year but come to Santa Barbara instead” Oucch! Just the type of comment that the cynical Brit loves to 'munch on' when grumbling about their sheltered maybe
somewhat less travelled American cousins…….......... But having spent a delightful evening meandering the streets of Santa Barbara, striking architecture everywhere you look, people spilling onto the sidewalks, music filling the air, life still vibrant even after 11pm, I think perhaps that comment can be forgiven, for Santa Barbara truly has an authentic European ambience.
Even the history is respectfully old.

The stunning Santa Barbara Mission, often aptly called the ‘Queen of the Missions’ was founded on the feast of St Barbara, December 4th 1786. It was the tenth of the 21 Californian Missions established by the Spanish Franciscans. Padre Juniper Serra, who established 9 of the missions, envisaged its building but sadly died before work commenced. His successor Padre Fermin Francisco de Lasuen, raised the cross here and placed Padre Antonio Paterna, a companion of Serra, in charge. The original purpose of the Mission was to bring Christianity to the local Chumash Indians, the original inhabitants of the coastline from Malibu to San Luis Obispo. The Chumash were hunters and gatherers oriented to the sea. They built plank boats (tomols) which were capable of traveling to the neighbouring Channel Islands. Chumash manufactures were regarded highly by early explorers and their skilled handiwork greatly contributed to the Mission's success. Over the years the Mission has been used for a number of purposes. Schools, a seminary for the priesthood and as a base for Friars work in various apostolates in the western states. The Mission church today is used by the Parish of St. Barbara.

The first time I was charmed by Santa Barbara nearly 30 years ago I remember my very first impression was that it felt like being in Europe.  A charming, beautiful, small town, stretching along a main street, reminiscent of places I had visited in Europe. I fell in love with it then and it’s appeal has never faded.
So hey, why not experience ‘Europe in California’ without the cost of the plane ticket and even better no jet lag, the bane of my life!!
A short drive away there one can be forgiven for thinking you are in Denmark, the somewhat Disney style ‘charms’ of Solvang await you! Despite it’s somewhat gauche appearance, Solvang is genuinely Danish and was actually settled by a group of Danes in 1911 wishing to escape the harsh midwestern winters. Its architecture is traditional Danish in style and there is both a copy of the Copenhagen’s famous little Mermaid Statue and a bust of the Hans Christian Anderson, the author of so many beloved children’s stories

The journey to get to Solvang, through the Santa Ynez Valley, rivals many I have done on the other side of the ‘Pond’. As you climb the twisting curves up into the hills the breathtaking, sweeping views across the ocean and over lush vineyards provide a true cornice Rivera experience.

And what could be more delightful after a 30 minute ‘Grace Kelley, scarf blowing in the wind experience’ than then beguiling small town of Los Olivos. Straight out of a picture book, albeit it an American picture book, what you thought you weren’t in the States?! Quite entrancing with its numerous vintners offering you generous samples from their local vines, gorgeous little gift stores selling a multitude of tasteful temptations, scrumptious restaurants enticing places to stay…ohh for more time to meander!

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This tiny house in Belmont Shore is where our life in California began nearly 30 years ago! When we arrived in Los Angeles in July 1985 it was my first visit to North America, my husband had seen a great deal of it as a child and especially via a Greyhound bus tour back in the 1970's before college! Who could have predicted how coming here on a job transfer would change the course of our lives forever! We actually returned to live England twice, ours is quite the story!

This pretty, Mediterranean style, beach community of Belmont Shore near Long Beach was our very first Californian home. One way streets, packed with brightly stuccoed, terracotta tiled, 'dolls house' sized homes, sandwiched between Ocean Avenue, with its miles of deep, seemingly endless, sun drenched beaches and the vibrant shopping and dining community of 2^nd Street. Both a five minute stroll away, and which 28 years later seemed little changed and just as charming. We meandered and reminisced for a while then continued our drive east.

We prepared ourselves to embrace the scorching temperatures
of the Inland Empire and Palm Desert.

As we left the quaintness of Belmont Shore behind us, the massive petticoats of Los Angeles seemed to fan further than ever, like a huge crinoline, encompassing the ribbons of freeways and densely built up suburbs beneath its vast folds. The L.A. metropolis billowing outwards, almost to Palm Springs itself.

Despite the searing heat we were given a temporary respite (~ the 110 degree temperatures 'cooled' to a 'chilly' 88 degrees!) and the spectacle of a rare, desert summer thunderstorm.

The relief was short lived as through the clouds the sky was gradually splashed with the colours of a rainbow

As the landscape gradually became more barren and desolate it was initially hard to understand how or why the Palm Springs, Palm Desert region had ever developed.The baked up earth seemed incapable of farming anything other than pristine, white windmills which dominated the terrain either side of the freeway.
They stretched for miles and miles in immaculate, sentry like rows, as if over the years they had self-seeded.

Their 40 or so foot blades twirling furiously, producing energy in defiance of the relentless heat, whose all encompassing aura seemed incapable of nurturing anything from this dry, exhausted land! Yet this region, its climate so harsh in summer had developed and thrived.
Native Americans discovered the sparkling waters of the area's tree-lined canyons over a thousand years ago. They learned to cope with the climate extremities and survived from the multitude of its desert plants. In the 1800’s the region was named after one of these tribes, the Agua Caliente, whose association with the white people led to the their near total demise from smallpox by the turn of the twentieth century. At a similar time, as the area became an important stage stop enroute to Arizona it stared to expand and grow. Old town La Quinta provides a little of the history of this bygone era.

However, it was its popularity with the Hollywood elite, years later which allowed it to really flourish and turned it into a destination.
Today, many of its street names attest to its famous residences, Bob Hope Drive, Gene Autry Trail, Frank Sinatra Drive, to name but a few.

From the freeway edges you can see the clear demarcation of where man’s irrigation and landscaping begins ~ one side a barren desert, the other lush and green. A testament to how the life giving miracle of water has turned a desolate, tumbleweed dustbowl into a beautifully manicured, palm tree clad, winter playground, often favoured by the rich and famous.

Pristine golf courses, gated communities and vacation resorts, set against an almost moonscape like backdrop of the stunning, pale pink, Santa Rosa Mountains, bathing themselves just below an azure blue sky. A winter haven to escape to, although in August with temperatures well over 110 degrees, perhaps a place to escape from!! However, as we approached this fascinating, fearsome, yet fragile region, the last remnants of day light disappearing, its strange beauty and allure was not difficult to embrace.

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Why would anyone be reduced to tears in the hazy, virtually standstill, 6 lanes of gas guzzling  405, San Diego Freeway? A Los Angeles freeway that I always think of as ‘mine’. A road full of so many memories and where my California love affair began 28 years ago.

‘If', 'what' and 'maybe’, all put together have the power to change your life, they certainly changed ours.
They bought us to Los Angeles where our eyes were opened to a different way of life; a sun drenched, carefree, beach existence full of 'beautiful people'……..

The opportunity to shop 24 hours, where you never paid to park your car, where you could drive through to do almost everything ~ to eat, deposit your money, collect your laundry; in a time when this was not the ‘American norm’ but certainly the Californian norm! A crazy place where you thought nothing of sitting in traffic for 2 hours and driving 70 miles to go to dinner. A world so unlike England, so unreal, that it actually felt sometimes that we were living in a sort of Disneyland. A world which could be both intoxicating and yet repugnant in its excesses, ('he who dies with the most toys wins', ughhhhh!) but a world where ‘dreams really can come true' and an experience that changed the course of our lives forever.
Despite living back in England for 7 years, it was a world that we never really left, that we yearned to experience again and when the opportunity arose to live in its more sober, more 'real' neighbor, Northern California, in 1993, now with 2 small children in tow, we grasped at it eagerly. There we found a different life, still Californian with all that we loved but a life that was more tangible. The gentle, leafy suburbs of Danville, 30 miles east of the dazzling city of San Francisco, became home.

Within one to three hours of the stunning destinations of the Napa Valley, Carmel and Lake Tahoe...

Places which have all become a treasured part of our lives.  
A place, despite all we cherished, we still left after 2 years to return back to England but a place we ultimately emigrated back to in 1999.

So now stuck in bumper to bumper LA traffic what is all my emotion about? It is remembering how it felt to be here when my Californian story began, on the 405 freeway, arriving at LAX in July 1984. Naive, green, young, carefree, with no children and few complications. Where already in love, we fell in love together with California. A place where in 2005 our lovely girl chose to go to university; UCLA, where  the streets of Westwood, Wilshire and Santa Monica became her home. UCLA, a place of academic prowess and learning where she was able to excel and then be able to secure a highly 
sought after position at Bristol University, UK to study for her PhD.
A place you sought of love to hate or hate to love …….but a place where both my Kate, now older than I when I first arrived in 1984 has enfolded us into its embrace. And those tears, what where they about? Sentimental ties, the agony and the ecstasy of a Brit living overseas, loving bits of it all and wondering what exactly she is looking for and where is home..............

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