America: That's a (W)rap!
Wednesday is about books. And/or writing. Today, the holiday is over. Two weeks in America. We came. We saw. We bought a LOT of books!
The plane touched down yesterday morning. Just me and Oscar on the return flight. Katy was off to Boston, then on to New York. She is combining work with pleasure for the second half of her American vacation. After a conference in Boston, she will head to NY to catch up with her bro and sister-in-law again, and to see a Nick Cave solo gig. Lucky!
Oscar read one of my Substack newsletters one time - the one about him book-reviewing - and he said, “why do you share so much about our lives?!” I said that it sneaks up (and then out) when you’re writing about the things you consume (and that consume you) a few times a week - and in my case, over many years.
But this America trip (our fourth as a family, our first to the mainland since 2016) ended up informing most of my newsletters while I was away. And now we’re back. So I thought I’d finish up the ‘travel-diary’-esque run of newsletters for the year.
We landed in San Fran a couple of weeks ago today. (Or Tuesday, of course, since you travel back in time somehow). We hit up bookstores immediately - buying about eight books on our first day. This trend did not stop. I shared some of the books I bought but it was more intense than that.
LOOK. Just look at this stupidity! This is the proof that it wasn’t just me. I didn’t even buy the most books…
Nuts. All of us. But SO GOOD! Lol…
It was interesting squeezing 45-50 books (and about five magazines, not pictured) into our two suitcases and two carry-on bags to return home, without getting stung for extra baggage. But we did it!
In San Francisco there was bookstores, and bus tours, and concerts - which I’ve shared already, both Tangerine Dream and Dinosaur Jr were brilliant, very different shows. We also ate some great food - one of the best Reuben sandwiches at Joe’s Diner, a couple of great burgers too. Great American burgers. Holiday food. No regrets. No shame. Just make sure you do a lot of walking before and after eh…
I had about 12 minutes only at Amoeba Music, so I ran to the soundtrack section and just went nuts. It was like one of those supermarket-dash sequences from a game show. I found the clearance section and had an armful of OST CDs within mere minutes. Let me just clarify that in 2023 I bought 19 CDs while on holiday. LOL!
Not only that, I bought a brand new Discman. America is good like that. There you are, popping legal gummies at a Dinosaur Jr gig and ordering a Discman on your phone to arrive two days later with free shipping.
The second week of the trip was spent in Grass Valley, which I told you a bit about across a couple of newsletters. It was a change of pace. No tour buses, no big gigs, but a kick-ass Philly cheesesteak at Pepe’s Cafe, and a lot more book-buying at Booktown Books.
My family’s ability to buy things on holiday - books, CDs, comics, magazines, candles, a new table-cloth, tshirts, hats - is probably world-class, or world-cringe. But these are our souvenirs. Our reminders of the real reason we were there. Which I don’t photograph and share. Spending time with family. We were there to bond with Oscar’s cousins and our neices. We rode rollercoasters, and went for walks, we did arts and crafts, watched movies, read stories, and just generally caught up, relaxed, and made memories.
My favourite part of America though, remains being able to leave. It is a weird place, so brilliant, so huge, so funny and filled with things and great people. But it is a confused land. San Fran is liberal, and arts-loving, and it has a brutal poverty divide that is more extreme than what you see in New Zealand, but it is recognisably similar, in many ways, to Wellington (Or wherever you’re from in NZ). Its Haight, like Cuba Street or K-Road in overdrive. Its Twin Peaks like Mt Vic’s lookout, its Mission District, like you picked up Cuba Street and dropped it in Newtown, then added roadside sales of stolen goods from jive-talkers, murals on walls tastefully done in paint, beneath them, the less tasteful remains of human excrement and various dodgy dealings. But all of it is recognisable. All of it is real.
In rural, northern California we saw idiots on motorbikes the size of outhouses with giant Trump flags waving behind them. But we also met and interacted with kind people that gave great service, that shared warm stories, that were funny and friendly and interesting.
I have no bond with America beyond knowing a few people there and being shaped profoundly by the excesses and absurdities of its culture. So, in some ways, that’s a huge bond. For me, it felt important to get to see a retro-screening of Fast Times At Ridgemonth High in an American cinema (I might not have gone to see it here at home). And it felt right to buy the brand new biography of pro-wrestling svengali, Vince McMahon in an American bookstore.
Oh, yeah, I also just found new locations to take pictures of roadcones. BONUS.
But, I was happy to leave when I did. The place is turning, at near fever-pitch, towards a fascist state. Its world is burning. And all people can do is try and carve out their own little cave to withstand the storm. Unless of course they’re happier to ride with pantomime-braggadocio on their giant bikes, their stupid flags waving out from their behinds…
You can’t miss that. You can but shake your head at it. Be pleased that, just a few average plane-films later, you are back home. To unpack your trinkets. And shelf your new books, and plan a new holiday, where you go absolutely nowhere and spend no money, all in the vague hope you might read and listen to a mere fraction of the things you just bought.
I’m so envious of your books haul - amazing to have so many treasures to look forward to. Thank you for including so much about your trip in the posts while you’ve been travelling they’ve been so much fun to read.