8 February

Awake at 6 – too many days of regimented activity to wake late unless I know someone else is doing the worrying. Showered, dressed and had a breakfast with Vegemite toast – the best experience while sitting down! Okay, well perhaps not THE best, but pretty good at this time.
I did some tidying up of my packed materials and reoganisation, then left about 9:40. After settling the account I got a cab to Union Station. After a few photos of a now-familiar location, I walked through to where the LAX-Union Station bus stops. At $4, it’s the cheapest and quickest way to get into LA from the airport. Naturally I arrived just as it left and had to wait for the 10:30. I ended up chatting to two young Dutch backpackers, just finishing three and a half months away (Thailand, Australia, New Zealand, Fiji and lastly the USA before they went home). They were enquiring about rental cars and had received wildly varying quotes (I found out later this was because they were 22 and 24; the rates quoted are usually only for 25 and over). At the airport we all found out where to go, but they had to do their enquiries by telephone as none of the booths were manned. I caught the bus to the Alamo Rental lot and did the paperwork – I have never tried to be sold so many extras as this time! Eventually it was finished and I initialled and signed (I note I was never asked to read what I signed, so if there’s a problem, that’s my defence). I went over to get my compact and – there weren’t any! There were three other families in the same position and we were all given the option of taking the next size up (or even two sizes up in the case of one group). I could either wait or take the next available car, which was a Pontiac Grand Prix, white, 5ZLE487. The number is not as easy to remember as my own. The operators of Bayswater Hire Cars in Perth could teach Alamo a few lessons in customer relations and car disposition.
In the car and with the keys, the next thing was to move the seat so I could reach the pedals – no-one to explain anything, no owner’s manual visible in the glove box, no 1-2-3 guide to running it. After a while I found how to move the seat forward and that the lights were controlled in the same way as in the Holden Commodore (but on a very busy stalk). Then it was over to the gate (after I had plugged the GPS in and turned it on and asked it to go to San Diego), sign the car out and head off. The first bit was easy – just follow the traffic. Once I was on the freeway heading south, it became interesting. I found how to set the cruise control, but boy – those who told me LA and Californian drivers were careful and disciplined never drove on these roads. 55 for trucks was 65. 65 for cars was anything up to 80. Only one person I saw stuck anywhere near the speed limits – me, as the traffic split around me as I made sure I wasn’t coerced into leaving through an off-ramp I didn’t want. After an hour I was out of LA (remember this was at 65 miles per hour – about 105 kilometres per hour) and the traffic thinned slightly. I saw a CHP car with radar out – why I don’t know as when a truck went by at 70 he totally ignored it. After an hour and a half, I went off to a viewpoint (scenic lookout). Here I started taking photos, as unlike the train, I couldn’t take them while moving in the car. Then back on the road down to San Diego – to see roadworks on the other side and a lineup of six lanes, miles long, going nowhere.
By now I had worked out how to use the radio and the airconditioning. I can’t see an mp3 socket, so it looks like it will be the old iPod transmitting songs for me. The Renault will have an mp3 socket. At San Diego I pulled into a signposted visitors’ centre. Working out how to lock the car was easy, but unlocking it so I could get out was harder. I now know you have to: stop, put the car into Park, turn off the ignition and pull the key out. Any other order and you’re trapped inside. It just reinforces that in this land of the free, you have to do as you are told.
At the visitors’ centre I picked up information. The first was that the man working there was a Vietnam Vet. The second was that he was very sympathetic to serving troops, as the young man before me was a Marine on two days’ leave before duty in Iraq – and when he wanted two soft drinks, he was given them free. The young man looked more like he should have been out surfing instead of fighting in a war. Then I got given the lowdown on how to spend my one and a half days in San Diego – this afternoon at old San Diego and tomorrow at the zoo and Balboa Park (reinforcing other guidance). I got a ticket for the zoo tomorrow, a coke (at $1.25 for nearly 600 ml. the cheapest yet!) and headed off. Five minutes later I was walking around old San Diego – a themed and historical park rather like Sovereign Hill on a much smaller scale. The uniqueness to me was the Spanish, then the American history. I engaged the woman at La Casa de Estudillo in conversation about how many servants worked there (two), why so few (this was the town house of the governor, not his principal residence), why so many bedrooms (friends would stay there while in the area) and the gardens (mainly put in when the place was used as a commercial building – before that the garden was practical, with vegetables, herbs and other plants). After then hearing about her problems with mice, rats and gophers (I haven’t seen them yet), I went around more of the old town. At the blacksmith’s shop, I was taken by the suggestions of Cathy and Steve for more interactive children’s activities (she runs my little pony rides, on the Internet). Here I got another suggestion – see the Hotel del Coronado, where Marilyn Monroe used to stay, and there is a good beach. I’ll see that tomorrow morning early, before traffic and with the sun behind me.
After seeing the rest of the town, I headed off to where I had booked a motel for the night (on the Internet, certain motel rates are 10% off normal rates) and found myself in peak hour traffic. I made it and booked in, but then the key wouldn’t work (to fix a lock now you need a locksmith and an electronics technician) so I had to be given another room.
I unpacked, then went to Target (one of their smaller stores, I was told, but it didn’t look that way to me) to get some supplies which I could now carry in the car. Coke was $7 for 24 cans (plus the ubiquitous – or should that be iniquitous? – tax as well as a recycle tax of 60 cents which is received back when the cans are cashed in (except by the time I consume them, I’ll be in every other state – good way to make money, and no, Fran, I am NOT carting them back to South Australia). I got most of what I wanted (food prices that I have seen are exactly comparable with Australia, except we have tax included) and even found, wait for it – Australian liquorice in the exact same packaging as at home!
I had an evening meal at Jack-in-the-box (all the cholesterol and fat you could wish in the one convenient meal – not to my taste) and then drove back to the motel. At $50 the night including tax and Internet access, it meets my budget. Its heater is efficient, the bed is okay and it has plenty of power outlets. I reorganised my packing as I can now carry some things in the boot of the car, set out the electrical things to go in the car (three-way adaptor, power for SatNav and iPod and charger for mobile, etc), wrote up my blog and did the photos. Now to bed and to sleep (which is what “sinking into the arms of Morpheus” means, for those who were wondering). Morpheus is not the Peruvian girl I met.