Life in California is full of vexing questions. Why is it so expensive here? Will there be any water when our kids are adults? Has anyone ever truly gone to the beach and the mountains on the same day?
Alta Journal has enlisted two experts to answer all of your questions: trusted basic-cable comedic newsperson Stacey Grenrock Woods and multilingual Instagram Live influencer Gustavo Arellano, both of whom bring decades of hard-won knowledge and laser-sharp insights to the Golden State.
Have a question of your own? Ask a Californian!
How do complete strangers or old friends (from other states or across the globe) react to either of you being a Californian now? There seems to be a condensed range of reactions, from actual heartfelt pity to sneering righteous derision. I’m boomer-aged, and these times are something else. It reminds me of traveling in the South in the ’60s.
—West Coaster
Stacey: You’ve come to the right place: actual heartfelt pity and sneering righteous derision are my main motivators! I figure, if I’m not inspiring one of those, I must be doing something wrong. You’re getting both simply by being Californian. Well done!
However, reactions like the ones you describe are unfamiliar to me. The non-Californians I deal with, both in literary circles and on Chatroulette, seem to know better than to express anything but trembling reverence or rapturous awe with regard to my home state. I’m sorry the people you meet assume you want to know what they think about stuff. If I knew how to stop that, I’d happily tell you.
It’s imperative that you exert as little energy as possible to de-escalate this conflict so you have plenty left over to finish whatever you’re doing and get back to California, fast. The next time someone offers their unsolicited assessment of your state, just reply, “That’s a good point. I must remember to bring that up with all my cool, good-looking, successful friends over exquisite food while overlooking the ocean during one of our typical temperate winters,” and move quickly down the buffet. They’ll leave you alone.
Gustavo: Oh, typical boomer: you conflate your experiences as a young’un with your imagined experiences as an old’un. As loathed as California may be among California quitters and Texas governor Greg Abbott, being a Golden Stater away from our homeland is nowhere near the experiences of traveling through the South in the 1960s. Come on! Are you getting spat upon—or worse? Of course not. Do you use Yelp like your own Green Book, the annual manual published for decades to let Black travelers know where it was safe to sleep, eat, or even use the facilities? Doubt it. What’s next? You’re going to tell us that the Molly at Oldchella a couple of years ago didn’t compare to the brown acid at Woodstock?
I’ve been to the Deep South as a Californian—hell, I write for the Southern Foodways Alliance, out of the University of Mississippi. They love us liberal Californians, because we keep bringing them the good Mexican food. They can’t stand the conservative Californians, because they bring insufferableness. Maybe they met you?
I’m going to drive up Highway 1 and I need some music recommendations. Can you suggest a couple of iconic, perfectly California albums to queue up on Spotify? (No clichés, please!)
—Hot Wheels
Stacey: I have been waiting for this question all my life. There’s no better way to spend your time than a drive up the world’s most beautiful coast against a soundtrack created by only me. So fuel up your EV, put on your shades, and heed the road signs: Warning: Soft Rock Ahead.
While I wouldn’t condemn you for listening to Joni Mitchell’s Blue (yes, the one with “California” on it) all the way up to Mendocino County and down again, there will be no clichés on this trip: no songs with California in the title, no songs directly about California, no mention of Ventura Highway, nothing folky, crunchy, acoustic guitar–y, or beard-y. No Loggins, no Messina, no Eagles whatsoever. Only music that is indirectly connected to the state or that evokes those sleek, hi-fi Californian feelings.
That’s right, I’m talking about Tusk. Fleetwood Mac’s 1979 double album is as perfect a representation of Californian grandiosity and variety as the coast itself. If you put it on once you’re clear of Los Angeles, Tusk should get you to about Carpinteria, after which you’ll want a large dose of Steely Dan to get you through Santa Barbara and beyond. Steely Dan recorded most of their albums in West Hollywood and Santa Monica, even though they were technically a New York band. Aja and Gaucho will serve as the ultimate backdrop to get you from about Morro Bay to Monterey, especially if you pepper them with Roxy Music’s Avalon, which you should be throwing on periodically during all parts of the drive.
10cc are from the west coast—the west coast of England—and their masterpiece How Dare You will be your ideal escort through the Bay Area. (No, it’s not the one with “I’m Not in Love” on it, so go get that off The Original Soundtrack, but don’t linger there. It’s not their best.) I don’t know how far up you’re going, but feel free to include some Bob Welch, anything by Warren Zevon, and, if you’re not at all suicidal and haven’t been for a while, Bob Dylan’s Infidels or Oh Mercy as your companions through the Lost Coast. And if you need more suggestions, come find me on Spotify, where I keep roughly 800 versions of this playlist, which will more than cover the 8-to-10-hour drive. In any case, it will feel that way.
Gustavo: True story: The only album I tried to hear while on PCH was London Calling, by the Clash, when my cousins and I wanted to take the long route to catch a 49ers game at Candlestick Park. We were a bunch of twenty-somes raised on Tupac and Art Laboe, so we were expecting thrash music as we put it on just past Zuma Beach. We instead heard one of the greatest albums of all time—and didn’t give one shit about it. I think we threw out the CD (which belonged to our mutual best friend Art) around Point Mugu.
I’ve been musically flagellating myself for that sin ever since, so my California albums recommendations for you are…none! Instead, listen to the husks that are the state’s remaining locally programmed AM and FM radio stations. From the start of Highway 1 in Orange County to about Culver City, enjoy the Mexican ranchera classics of KFWB-AM 980 La Mera Mera. From Culver City up until Santa Barbara, tolerate the right-wing rants of KFI-AM 640. I’m sure there’s still weirdo pirate stations that’ll take care of you from SLO up to KGO. And then after that? It should be late night, so nothing like the conspiracies of Coast to Coast AM to take you to—where else?—the Lost Coast.
Can we talk about dogs at the farmers’ market? The signs clearly say No Dogs Allowed, but everyone seems to have their dogs. Can I say something?
—Grrrrr
Stacey: You can, but then you’d be Farmers’ Market Karen, and that’s not really fair in the one place that ought to remain a safe haven for Karens.
Even though it’s all right there in California Health and Safety Code 114259.5, it remains a little-known fact that non–service dogs are not allowed at the farmers’ market. “It’s a health-code violation having animals within 20 feet of food,” Catherine Barr of Monterey Bay Certified Farmers Markets told me via email. “Do you take your dog into a grocery store?” (Californians, don’t answer that.) When farmers’ markets look the other way with regard to dogs, they open the way for a litany of horrors to occur, some of which, Barr said, she’s had to clean up herself. Plus, “farmers will have to throw that whole box of produce away.”
If you really must say something, Barr suggests that you first speak to the manager, then whoever organizes the market or a member of its governing board. “If no action is taken to rectify the situation,” she says, “call your local health department.” And then you’ll be the great hero who rids the farmers’ market of dogs. Nice work, Almira Gulch.
Perhaps a better thing to do is to say something to the dogs themselves, either in your head or loudly while petting them (with the owners’ permission). Something like, “Hello, good boy. No, I don’t understand why they bring you places where there’s tons of food that you can’t have. I know, I know, it’s not a walk, or a meal, or a nap, so it’s of no use to you at all!” And if that doesn’t work, just consider this another situation where you and I and Catherine Barr are right about something that other people are wrong about. Sometimes that just has to be enough.
Gustavo: You can, but only if you spell out your grrrrrumbles with dried jujubes.
Gustavo Arellano is the author of Orange County: A Personal History and Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America. In 2025, Arellano was named a Pulitzer Prize finalist for his work as a columnist for the Los Angeles Times. He was formerly editor of OC Weekly, an alternative newspaper in Orange County, California, and penned the award-winning ¡Ask a Mexican!, a nationally syndicated column in which he answered any and all questions about America’s spiciest and largest minority. Arellano is the recipient of awards ranging from the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies Best Columnist to the Los Angeles Press Club President’s Award to an Impact Award from the National Hispanic Media Coalition, and he was recognized by the California Latino Legislative Caucus with a 2008 Spirit Award for his “exceptional vision, creativity, and work ethic.” Arellano is a lifelong resident of Orange County and is the proud son of two Mexican immigrants, one of whom came to this country in the trunk of a Chevy.
Stacey Grenrock Woods is a regular contributor to Esquire and a former correspondent for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. She writes and consults on various TV shows, and has a recurring role as Tricia Thoon on Fox’s Arrested Development. Her first book is I, California.
