My favourite place on earth

It seems silly and unorthodox to me that I haven’t approached this subject sooner. It seems completely unfair that my heart hasn’t bounced and pondered over this very incandescent, I feel. Everyone holds a torch for somewhere and my torch is elevated for California. As an English born-and-bred girl of the world, I cannot possibly speak of life in California, as I have no frame of reference. I can talk of love and hopefulness, that’s what us Brits do best.

When I was a wee gal, I enthralled in a stunning obsession with the WWF (now commonly known as the WWE), in which a strange fantasy about San Diego began. This was for the meaningless reason that ‘Rey Mysterio Jr’ originated from there. He was my favourite. Probably because of his mask. Probably because he wasn’t so hench. Probably because he was different.

Since then, the name has played on certain strings of my heart. I’ve yet to find a negative. So, after a lot of overtime at work, me and my friend headed on a quest to California where we visited: Pomona, we visited LA, we rode a tram in San Fran, we were inspired at Alcatraz, we were in awe at Beverly Hills, in love at Universal Studios, confused by the early morning heat in Valencia (Six Flags theme park) and taken aback by the Grand Canyon. Really, there aren’t enough boasting-positive-breath-taking adjectives in the world to describe it and the California deserts.

To anyone who lives in the Sunny State I am sure this is all very stereotypical of a tourist attraction.

Let me explain. Here in England we have do have beautiful landscapes like: the Valleys and hill tops in Northern Wales, the acres of countryside in the South west of England (Devon/Cornwall), the shimmering views of the Lake District and these are just to name a view. There are many beautiful places in our part of the world, none are comparable to the masses and masses I saw in the summer. Being in a theme park in Valencia and seeing mountain upon mountain, all sides, all ways for miles, this is just something I couldn’t get my head around. It’s the same way I couldn’t get my head around the fact that New York City is always alive, the height of the buildings, the flashing lights at 4am, at 6am, at midday….it’s a completely different culture. One that I want to indulge in and lose myself in and breathe in.

I’m keeping this short and sweet, because the feeling of love is not one that can be duplicated, it is not one people can fully relate to (as people experience feelings to different to everyone else), it is not one you can confirm a concrete definition for. Here I’ve dealt with the concrete land, a place that encompasses all my happiness, but of course, my favourite place to be is in the cuddlin-arms, and that is where we’re all happiest.