San Luis Obispo

Caro had built a new itinerary for us, in order to allow us to see California.  This involved a train trip down to the pretty little town of San Luis Obispo on the Amtrak.  The passenger trains in California are huge, double-decked affairs, stainless steel, shining impressively under the California sun, but less impressively half a bloody hour late.

The service was abysmal.  It’s not like trains are never late in the UK, but that's because our trains are falling apart and the tracks are the wrong size and the carriages date back to Roman Times.  The Amtrak was late, and became progressively later after we got onto it, because basically – and I’m using technical terms here - it was so F*CKING SLOW.  

We trundled down Northern California, looking out the window to see old buggers passing us on lawn-mowers.  Still, the scenery was absolutely beautiful, and I was touched by the sweetness of the Californians who still stop and wave at trains.  I waved back every time we went through a town.  

San Luis Obispo is the gateway to Hearst Castle, which is Somewhere We Meant To Go But Couldn't Be Arsed.  It SOUNDED great.  William Randolph Hearst is famous for being a hugely rich and successful media tycoon whose main achievements can be summarised thus:

• He was a very very rich media mogul
• His newspapers perfected the art of the misleading headline
• He wielded huge political power behind the scenes
• He raised being a wanker to new heights of wankeriness

His castle is this grandiose monument to his own ego, but with artwork shipped in from Europe, it is pretty amazing.  However, we were staying at a very special hotel named The Madonna Inn, which is pretty amazing in its own right and we were loath to leave it.

The Madonna Inn was built in the 1920's by a local cattle rancher, and its theme rooms attracted the likes of John Wayne.  Since then, it has been expanded greatly and is sort of hard to describe.  Try to imagine a Valentine's Day party as given by Liberace.  Or a brothel as run by Barbara Cartland.  

It's a huge wedding cake, 9 year old girl fantasy of a place with fairy lights, pink settees, golden cupids, marble balustrades, and gilt-edging everywhere.  The enormous fireplace looks resembles a huge cave-in in the lobby.  An amazing lamp made out of plastic fruit, hangs over the bar.  A band plays while old people cha-cha-cha around the ballroom.  Never stay at this place while on drugs.

Our room was “The Margueritte” decorated with blue flowery wallpaper.  The bathroom boasted a pink marble sink, gold-plated light-fittings and a toilet with flowers painted all over it.  If Royalty ever needed to shit, then this is the sort of toilet they would hire someone to shit in for them.  It was impressive.