In my early 20s, I took the requisite student pilgrimage to Europe, exploring its finer train stations and sleeping on park benches from London to Istanbul. I was just another tanned and skinny, blond and blue-eyed American lugging around 60 pounds of backpack. That is, until I crossed over into the former Eastern Bloc.
The reaction was dramatic. I would wander through the streets of Prague and people would stop, stare, and sidestep. It wasn't until a man who spoke faltering English approached me that I discovered the reason for my celebrity status.
"Eh, you. Where you from? No, no. Let me guess." He steps back, gives a cursory examination followed by pregnant pause. "Ah. I've got it! You're from California, no?" There's a gleam in his eyes as I tell him that, yes, he's correct. "Wonderful! Wonderful!" A dozen or so pilsners later with my new friend and it all becomes clear: To him, I am a celebrity -- a rich, convertible-driving surfer who spends his days lazing on the beach, fending off hordes of blondes while I argue with my agent via my portable phone. I am the Beach Boys. I am Baywatch. Hollywood has done what no NATO pact could achieve -- they've leapfrogged the staid issues of capitalism versus communism by offering a far more potent narcotic: the alluring mystique of sunny California, of stars strolling down Sunset Boulevard, of beautiful women in tight shorts and bikini tops roller-skating along Venice Beach. In short, they've bought what we're selling.
The allure is understandable. It really is warm and sunny most of the year, movie stars do abound in Los Angeles, and you can't swing a cat by its tail without hitting a rollerblading babe in Venice Beach. This part of the California mystique -- however exaggerated it may be -- does exist, and it's not hard to find.
But there's more -- a lot more -- to California that isn't scripted, sanitized, and broadcast to the world's mesmerized masses. Beyond the glitter and glamour is an incredibly diverse state that, if it ever seceded from the Union, would be a productive and powerful nation. We've got it all: redwood forests, an incredibly verdant Central Valley, the Sierra Nevada mountains, deserts, a host of world-renowned cities, and hundreds of miles of stunning coastline.
And despite the crime, pollution, traffic, and earthquakes for which California is famous, we're still the golden child of the United States: America's spoiled rich kid everyone else either loves or loathes. (Neighboring Oregon, for example, sells lots of license-plate rims that proudly state, "I hate California.") But, truth be told, we really don't care. Californians know they live in one of the most diverse and interesting places in the world, and we're proud of the state we call home.
Granted, there's no guarantee that you'll bump into Arnold Schwarzenegger or learn how to surf, but if you have a little time, a little money, and -- most importantly -- an adventurous spirit, then Erika, David, and I will help guide you through one of the most fulfilling vacations of your life. The three of us travel the world for a living, but we choose to live in California, because there's no other place on earth that has so much to offer.
