So, we’ve arrived. Shuttle to the humungous hire car complex and yet another inexplicable and slow-moving line of glum visitors.

Thankfully when we finally reached the front of the line we were greeted in a friendly manner, and clearly they’d run out of ‘medium SUVs’ as booked so our options went:

Pickup truck. I’d have jumped at the chance, but Mr. Practical reminded me we have big bags. Boooo! He did have a point.

“Electric sedan”. Probably a Tesla. Again, on face value I’d jump at this, but with 2 days before our cruise the stress of trying to set up charger apps, find chargers etc, with the added complications of no cell service and foreign cards? Nah.

Thankfully the nice lady’s third option was a ‘large SUV’ which turned out to be a brilliant year-old Jeep Grand Cherokee. That’ll do, pig. Against Mark’s valid protestations of it ‘not being a thing’ I tipped the rental clerk, which in hindsight was a mistake since she surreptitiously screwed us with £125 extra charges on a 2-day, prepaid £75 hire. The first of several utterly scammy hire company interactions over the holiday. And indeed the third holiday on which they’ve pulled a stunt. Maybe won’t rent with them again.

This thing wasn’t terribly dynamic, but sounded BRILLIANT. V6 I think, but with an incongrously rorty exhaust. Naturally, as the brave one I was nominated to captain it out of LAX onto the busy freeways. Eek.

But hey, sun was out and whilst not hot hot, it was a good fifteen degrees warmer than England. Bonus. Side note, why can’t I grow bouganvillea?

We arrived at the Laguna Hills Inn within an hour or so from the airport, and were pleasantly surprised. Despite the Bates Motel initial impressions, the manager was friendly and loved our English-isms. Hey, the place even had a pool and hot tub. For £65 a night including breakfast, this was in any terms a Billy bargain, and in greater LA terms especially so.

Your first landing spot after a long-haul flight is just a crashpad to rest and recuperate, and this would do fine.

We dropped bags and headed on foot (weirdos) to Starbucks around the corner, in the hope that caffeine and cake would fortify us for the next few hours before acceptable bedtime and, hopefully, a reset body clock tomorrow.

This was predictably unfriendly, cake was awful and coffees served in takeaway cups for a princely £17 or so. A lot, but not my all time high of £19 on the International Starbuck Conversion Scale at Gardens in the Bay in Singapore. On that occasion however we were greeted with a smile and service good coffee and cake on, gasp, china.

I insisted that we go a bit off-piste for snack dinner so ended up at a formica-clad Mexican cantina in the strip mall around the corner. Burritos and sodas for about a tenner each- mejor.

After a somewhat sub-optimal night’s sleep on account of extreme body clock skulduggery, it was time to explore. Mark was utterly fixated on IHOP, so IHOP it was.

I’ve cropped out his little sad face for reasons of modesty, but needless to say it didn’t hit the spot, and wasn’t quite as good as remembered from his summer camp days. Smaller portions, etc. See Wagon Wheels et al…

Undeterred we moved on and down to Laguna Beach. LA is such a sprawling metropolis that it makes sense to explore your corner of it in detail, doubly so when you’re a bit knackered. Crossing the metropolis takes ages.

We drove down the scenic and calm canyon into the town proper. Mistake 1: The driver ignoring the free park and ride halfway down the hill. Take advantage of this, it’s pricey to park even in January and then you’ve got more time to explore and wander.

Laguna Beach reminded us a lot of Camps Bay in South Africa…an artist colony evolved into upscale home of the wealthy and beautiful. Nonetheless it had a certain charm, and the sun was out. Holiday goal achieved.

Having had our fill of coast walking, we spotted one of the town trolleys. Free things aren’t common in the US, but this is a good one. The trolleys (actually a ridiculous Ford V10 bus in a frock) ply the route up and down the ‘strip’ every 20 minutes or so. We should have used the park and ride, because we stayed on the circular bus a bit long and were panicking about the parking meter on the return trip.

Bootless, unticketed and not towed, we steered our yank tank southbound, figuring Highway 1 wouldn’t be a bad place to start exploring.

This coastline is endlessly photogenic, with beautiful cove after beautiful cove, and very decent surfing if you’re into that malarkey. We routed down towards San Diego, intending to have a look at the big park there, but after a couple of hours of meandering down the scenic coast we ran out of time and daylight. Another trip.

Some of the towns down this stretch of Highway 1 are wonderful. We stopped off for a few hours in Carlsbad, a really interesting place with a German feel, coming to prominence in the late 1800’s with a German-born merchant influencing much of the development. So, interesting wooden churches and a laid-back vibe. Plus regular trains on the coastal line dramatically battering through town, horns blaring. Trains aren’t a big thing in the states, although the Pacific Surfliner is one of the best-known named long distance services, running the length of the Californian coast.

A quick coffee stop in Encinitas allowed us to soak up a bit of sun, on the trendy coffee place’s roof deck. Only when you are away from England do you realise all your English-isms, and the server’s favourite one of mine was, evidently, the flippant use of ‘cheers’.

We carried on southwards, fighting jetlag with expensively crafted Californian caffeine, our final stop being a slow meander through the La Jolla coast road. Along, it would seem, with half of California. Coast absorbed, back onto I5 and to murder motel again.

Determined not to drive out for dinner, we opted for BJ’S Brewhouse on the retail park next to us, and our first introduction to the frequently insane price of mediocre pub food in the US. Apparently food price inflation has been a big thing here.

And here also we experienced the typical two faces of US customer service…the greeter doing a great sulky teenager act for no discernable reason other than us darkening his door… followed by a very friendly and personable waitress.

One decent burger, a distinctly average Jambalaya for Mark, 2 nearly pints? 83 bucks with tip. Yeah, that’s about £65. Think chain pub meal, not Wetherspoon but nothing special.

Wowsers.

Thankfully we’d be enjoying ‘free’ food for the next 4 nights courtesy of Royal Caribbean cruises, so for now we visited the nearby off licence to grab some wine for the boat. That was an experience in itself, with the cavernous warehouse literally stuffed with booze and the best selection of craft beers I’ve ever seen.

America used to be a very homogeneous lager drinking nation, but seems to have caught the IPA bug in a big way…dozens and dozens of small brewers in Cali alone.

The next morning, we were already feeling a little impoverished by the previous day’s food spend of £120 for nothing remotely exciting, so we hit the (limited) breakfast buffet at the motel.

Off to the cruise port we go.