Etched into the landscape...
We are sitting in the back of a bright white BMW convertible gunning its souped-up engine. The top is down, the punishing sun is only bearable because of the sea breeze, the driver’s gold tooth gleams in the rearview mirror along with a flash of his royal blue T-shirt bearing the logo of the Dodgers, LA’s baseball team.
But we are not in Los Angeles.
Even though the panoramic view from our hotel offers vistas of the American transplants of McDonald’s, KFC and Holiday Inn Express nestled between the rolling green hills; even though we pass strip malls and the Beverly Hills hotel on our way to the crested waves of the Indian Ocean the next day; even though there are so many time-space-smashing markers of a North American urbanscape, we are not in California.