Day 8: Castles and celebrities

I began Day 8 with a trip to Hearst Castle, the estate of William Randolph Hearst. You begin the tour by taking a bus to the top of a mountain, to the estate. The tape they play on the bus tells you to look for wild animals, because Hearst kept them on the land when he was there (things like zebras and polar bears) and there are still a lot there today (not polar bears though). All I saw was one deer and some turkeys.

Our guide met us at the top of the hill and explained the process of how Hearst built the castle. It’s out in the middle of nowhere, so it’s pretty impressive that it exists at all. But Hearst was inspired by Europe and wanted a place to exhibit his art, so the painstaking details that went into it were endless. So the partnership between Hearst and his architect, Julia Morgan, was pretty cool.

First, you go to the outside pool, where Cary Grant and Clark Gable once swam. It has columns and marble everywhere. The tour guide said that he got to swim in it once a year. It would be nice to be invited to that party, huh? Then we walked through one of the guest homes. I would have wanted to stay in the room that had a view of both the ocean and the pool.

Then, the main attraction, you go into the big house. You see the sitting room, dining room, billiards room, the movie theater, and the inside pool. When you see that pool, you’re walking on gold because it’s flecked into the tiles. That pool was so beautiful. The tour guide called the other rooms “concrete boxes” because the real appeal is the art that Hearst spent his life collecting.

After the bus ride back down the hill I watched the movie “Building the Dream,” which shows the 10-year-old Hearst going to Europe, getting inspired, and deciding to build a house that integrates all the influences. It was pretty interesting, actually, despite my lackluster description of it.

Back on the road. I stopped in San Luis Obispo for lunch. I had a burrito that had, among other things, banana. Only in California. Then I continued the drive into Los Angeles.
When I was on the PCH into Malibu, I began thinking intently on one subject. Was John Cusack in town? If so, where was he, and was it hard to get there? Did John Cusack hang out at any of the spots I was passing? If I were to meet John Cusack, what would I say? Would he find an opening line that referenced “Money for Nothing” adorable or annoying?

Then I had to stop thinking about John Cusack because I had gotten myself a little lost. My friend Oliver from Emory kindly allowed me to crash on his couch, but I waited a little too late to call him to figure out where he lived in relation to John Cusack, and thus I was a little out of the way and apparently dangerously close to the ghetto. But eventually I made it to Oliver’s place in Culver City.

It was one of Oliver’s roommate’s birthday, so a group went to dinner at Ford’s Filling Station, which is a restaurant owned by Harrison Ford’s son. I hate to spoil the rest of my time in L.A. for you, but this is as close as I get to a celebrity during the trip. I had some polenta with veggies and a big glass of wine and it was great. Oliver has some really nice friends and it was a fun night. We went back to Oliver’s and he helped me figure out how to get around L.A. a bit before bed. Thus ends day 8.