The cable (and thus the internet capabilities) won’t be installed until tomorrow, 3/4, but I’m writing today, 3/3. How am I doing this, you ask? Well, I’m typing in Word, and I’ll save it until I post tomorrow, where Blogger will let me change the posting date to 3/3. So you’ll never know the difference. I’m slick that way…
So, Lompoc. Awesome town. Sort of a sleepy, coastal place. CA 1 runs right through it, but there isn’t much to see as far as touristy-stuff, and the beaches in the immediate area I’m told have nasty undertows, so you wouldn’t want to come to swim. Swimming’s down the road, closer to Santa Barbara. So from what I can tell, it’s pretty much all locals. We do have Wal-Mart, several major grocery and fast food chains, and Home Depot. Then there are tons of locally-owned businesses. Like many places in the Southwest, there’s a lot of Hispanic influence. We found good (good) Mexican food within 24 hours of our arrival. Then we went back the next day. We might eventually get around to trying some of the other options…but then again there may not be a need. I do want to try the “authentic” fish & chips place. It’s called Alfie’s, and you can’t get much more British than that. If they wrap the food in newspaper I’ll know it’s a keeper.
The town is nestled in rolling, green hills. The kind of hills that make me love California. They’re way too steep to attempt building anything on them. As far as I can tell, they’re divvied up into several ranches, but other than the occasional cows & horses they are largely untouched. Driving through them the other day I thought “I would love to live here,” and then it dawned on me that I DO live here, and I nearly wept for joy. But then again, that might’ve been the Mexican food.
Santa Barbara is 50 or so miles away. The only time I’ve spent there so far is the airport, and it took me about 5 seconds to determine that it is the single, most fantastic airport in all of humanity. To begin with, it’s tiny. Everything operates from within one very small terminal, which itself looks like some sort of hacienda, or something. Spanish-style stucco and tile, lots of lush bougainvilleas and other greenery, signs with 70’s Spanish-looking lettering, the works. None of this “The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only-blah blah blah” stuff; there is no white zone. The short term parking lot would fit inside a gymnasium, and is directly in front of the terminal. It feels like pulling up to Fantasy Island. I looked around for where I should claim my lei, but sadly there was no one handing them out.
The reason I was there: my mom had flown in to return His Highness. I pulled up a little late, since I had allowed 20 minutes or so for them to de-plane, fight their way through the crowds and down to baggage claim, etc., like at Logan. I soon learned that this extra time cushion was highly unnecessary. When they landed, Mom was surprised to find that there were no jet ways; they disembarked via sky stairs. And since Mom was heavily laden with all the baby-travel-paraphernalia, the pilot was kind enough to carry His Highness down the steps. I thought that was nice. They were directed to Baggage Claim A, where the ramp worker rolled up with a cart of baggage, straight off the plane, and the passengers claimed their bags from the pile. Everything took all of 5 minutes, so they were stuck waiting for me instead of the other way around.
As for the house, it’s as good as it gets for a sight unseen rental. We’ve upgraded to 2 bathrooms and a 2-car garage, but there’s no way we’re getting 2 cars into that garage with all the shtuff we’ll be storing for our tenure here.
Oh dear, His Highness awakes. More later…