In addition to all the other reasons we decided to go on this trip, there was one more, which is that I love to travel, but Dan and I also have been discussing having a baby, and society has told me those two things do not go hand in hand.
Unable to accept such stupid restrictions, I told Dan years ago that I was excited to have his baby, because that would mean I was also moving to Latin America for three years. When he asked why, I said because America is some insane mishmash of people who love babies but never agree that you are raising them correctly, and people who think you are the devil for deciding to procreate while the world is burning.
Naturally, to those people I always say the same thing, which is if the world is devolving into a post-apocalyptic hellscape of roaming tribes of killers, it is in my best interest to breed some new tribe members before things get too rowdy, and of course such an answer pleases neither the people who love babies and can't imagine them growing up to be war criminals, or people who don't love babies, and can't imagine them growing up into people like them.
In Latin America, though, people are happy that you have decided to have a family in kind of a general way.
And cheese is half-price!
Instead of impregnating me and leaving Dan vulnerable to what are sure to be more excellent ideas fueled by shifting hormones, we compromised on going on an extended trip before I got pregnant, but with the idea that we would investigate if there were any American places that we liked better for raising a family.
Things that will influence our decision:
1. Proximity to friends and family
2. General coolness
3. Attitudes toward having a baby
4. Attitudes toward people owning a moody dog made of garbage who is basically a teenager that will punish you for forgetting to cuddle her the appropriate amount in the morning and will take her revenge by barking at things she previously never barked at because she knows it upsets you and then will act like she has no idea what you're talking about later when you try to talk it out and slams the door to her room shut and says she hates you and you say you hate her but cry into your whiskey glass anyway cuz you don't really hate her and also a nice dash of salinity really brings out the flavors
5. Price of cheese
With that in mind, we take off from Oregon, in search of greener, cheesier pastures.
And my trusty road pony.
Nothing happens on our drive in Oregon because nothing ever happens in Oregon. We drive down I-5 and it is sunny and looks like summer, and we consider perhaps we have made a mistake in leaving because this is clearly not December. But when I roll the window down to feel the warm sun, I am buffeted by cold air and the scent of dead dreams, so I know it is not summer and also we have made the right choice.
We settle in to the open road, snug inside our car where the pandemic can't catch us.
I think.
I am distracted by trying to decide which place I like less, Oregon or California, and so I completely miss the Welcome to California sign. Because of this, I am not convinced that there is a Welcome to California, and probably they have a sign that says Ugh I Guess You Can Come to California. With no evidence to the contrary, I sit back and enjoy the countryside, which is all California has going for it.
Also the raisins.
Our first destination is Redding, a place I have never been. I see a mountain and ask Dan if it is Mount Shasta, and he is driving so he says probably. I am now in the distressing situation where there is An Important Thing that has not been properly identified in my immediate vicinity, so I consult multiple maps to find out if it is Mount Shasta.
My lack of ability to read maps quickly becomes an issue. I do what any good explorer would do and point to the mountain and say, "That is Mount Shasta."
And now it is.
We arrive in Redding after eight hours. I had heard that Redding was a cute little town in Northern California, and was interested in seeing it because it was a potential place we could live.
I immediately reject Redding because it is clearly full of insane people, or people who can't read, or both. In the face of every news and science report ever, they are operating like those men in WWII who were fighting in small places and never heard the war was over, but the exact opposite of that, because they are going about their lives as if there is not a major global event happening, and sitting in restaurants like actual psychopaths. I tell Dan we are not safe because everyone in Redding is a murderer, and not in the cool way.
We hole up in our hotel room for the evening. I decide a good plan is to drink and watch Bob's Burgers and forget that we are in California. My plan is complicated by the fact that I have a very judgmental dog who will side-eye you if you drink because she was an alcoholic as a puppy and now thinks she's better than everyone else because she doesn't drink.
"Soda?"
"I hate you."
Dan leaves only once to get some terrible and overpriced food, which of course it is terrible and overpriced, because this is California, and the whole state is basically an entitled hot chick who shows up to a date and thinks that is all she needs to do and you are so lucky that she's there and she is not required to provide any personality or worth because look how pretty.
I do not enjoy California.
Redding Livability:
Proximity to friends and family: 3/5
It's kind of close, but not so close that I'm willing to overlook the entire population being illiterate.
General coolness: 0/5
NOT COOL GUYS
Attitudes toward having a baby: 0/5
Probably very bad because they are happy to murder adults so babies are probably also on the murder list
Attitudes toward people owning a moody dog made of garbage: 5/5
They seem to be happy to tolerate garbage behavior so I think Likely would be quite at home
Price of cheese: N/A
I did not purchase any cheese in this cesspool
Final score: 8/25
That is a very bad score. We are not living in Redding.
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