Seems Ned's law firm had a year-end windfall of some kind so he got a totally unexpected bonus. Gloria threw a big New Year's party with all kinds of exotic food she got from Cielo Grande, a new development about two hours away on the coast. That's where our friends Megan and Ryan are hoping to move, if they can ever sell their house. Well, that's Megan's goal anyway, ever since she had to close her art gallery here.
After things settled down a bit at the clinic, Gloria treated me with a trip to Cielo Grande's exclusive Day Spa for my birthday. I'm not really into that kind of thing anymore, but I could tell Gloria needed to give me this gift so I couldn't say no.
Actually it's our trip there that I need to tell you about. I haven't talked with the folks up on Altos since I posted last. There's just been too much going on that my involvement there has been left hanging. I appreciated everyone's comments urging me to work with them, though, and now, after going to Cielo Grande ... well, you'll see what I mean.
Cielo Grande is a private, gated community on the central coast. Actually there are two communities, one inside the other, each with one guarded gate. The outer ring consists of small farms and the inner ring is the town itself. Apparently most of their basic food is produced in the outer ring: produce, grain, eggs, cheese, milk, and meat. The town itself is as Megan has said an upscale art community, somewhat like Carmel or Beverly Hills used to be, except it isn't open to the public. To get past the guards at the gates, you either have to live there or be invited by someone who does.
There is a small port on the west side of the town where they import shipments of luxuries from around the world that fill the tiny shops lining their main street: clothing, jewelry, furnishings, culinary delicacies, and fine art. (No wonder Megan would love to be there.) The buildings, all of an adobe-like texture, look new and spotlessly clean, as do the cobble stone streets. There are no cars in the town proper. Parking spaces ring the inside wall that surrounds the town. Massive solar panels dot the surrounding hillsides.
The sea air there is so fresh and clear and the weather so mild we left our winter coats and sweaters in the car. There were few people on the street or in the shops, though. One has to wonder who buys the beautiful things there. Those we saw were unhurried, casually well-dressed men and women who walked with a light step and laughed convivially at small, sidewalk cafe tables.
The Day Spa itself is tiny but lavish. So opulent that for Gloria's sake I had to work at not showing how uncomfortable I felt being there, knowing all the economic pain most people in the country are going through now, especially those in the cities. Originally she wanted us to have a day of body wraps, peels, soaks, saunas, and massages and then stay over night to have our hair, nails and toes done, but I didn't want to be away that long and such extravagances are not really my thing any more. Gloria seemed to relish it, though, like someone whose had found an oasis after wandering for days in the desert. At the end of the day I was so relaxed I felt like I could melt into a puddle of wax and it did feel good.
What puzzled me most was that all matters of payment were very hush, hush. As if to mention money would foul the mood. After a bit of prodding Gloria explained it had all arranged through Ned's law firm. A month ago the firm was laying off staff so I suspect Cielo Grande must be a new client and what occasioned the unexpected year-end bonus and the festive New Year's gala.
After our spa treatments Gloria wanted to shop for awhile. I must admit the shops there are exquisite. Each one like a little art museum. Gloria looked longingly at many items, but bought only one item, a damask table cloth on sale for $300. She kept offering to buy me something. "Don't you want just a little something to take home?" she kept asking. She felt like a dieter who had gone binge wanted me to share heir guilt. While everything in the shops was lovely to look at, I didn't see anything I need, so I kept demurring.
My lack of enthusiasm didn't dampened her spirits though. She was aglow and kept saying "Isn't this wonderful! It's like old times," referring of course to long ago when we lived in the city and were literally killing ourselves to make enough money to enjoy splurges like this.
Before leaving we stopped into a pharmacy attached to a state-of-the art clinic with the names of a full contingent of medical specialists on the directory. There weren't many people there either and Gloria confessed that she had to provide certification from Mark that neither of us had the flu before they would issue our electronic pass code to the guards at the gates. Gloria picked up a case of over-the-counter medication that was waiting for her and commented off hand. "What good is having money to spend if there's no place to buy what you need?"
I wanted to reply, what good is having so many wonderful things to sell if there's no one who can afford to buy them? But retrained myself.
On our way to the car we ran into Lorraine and Becca. Lorraine, if you recall, is an actress, or at least strives to be one. She was staying with her mother in Katani Falls while recovering from chronic fatigue when we moved here. Since then she and her husband Lee moved to Sacramento where he's a "Green Growth" lobbyist (I know, that's an oxymoron). But now her mother who lives alone and is getting quite feeble is suffering with the flu, so Lorraine has come down to take care of her.
You undoubtedly remember Becca, the unhappy teenager you met the last time I posted. She's the Ian's daughter, the software mogul who's financing the under-the-radar projects up on Altos. His wife Adriana has been god friends with Lorraine since they met at the clinic, drawn together by the shared burden of an immune disorder. Still I was surprised to see Becca and Lorraine together in Cielo Grande.
Looking freshly coiffed and much happier than when I met her, Becca seemed embarrassed to see me and rushed off in a flurry of sweetly feigned exuberance to peek into a nearly shop.
"Becca really needed to get away," Lorraine explained. "Her dad called yesterday to ask if I'd take her shopping and get her hair and nails done here. He set it all up for us to get in and dropped her off at mother's early this morning. This place is something. I didn't even know it was here!" She looked away as if looking after Becca.
I couldn't read Lorraine's impression of Ceilo Grande. She seemed more astonished than pleased, but I noticed both she and Becca were laden with an assortment of colorful, glossy shopping bags, like a scene from an episode of that old TV series Sex in the City.
When Becca got back she held up one particularly large bag up for me to see. "I got those grey suede UGGS my dad promised!" she said grinning triumphantly. Lorraine rolled her eyes as if to say "Kids!" Then we parted with quick hugs all round.
En route home, Gloria kept telling me how great I looked and checking to be sure I'd had a good time. I guess I wasn't congruent in my appreciation. I did have a good time, mostly because I was glad to see Gloria so happy. But, Sarah, I didn't like what I saw there. How is it that there can be a place like this in times like these? Who gets to live there? How do Ned and Ian have access to it? Given Ian's reduced salary, his tiny house, and the financial pressures of financing the compound, how can he afford to shower Becca with a shopping trip like this? I know it's none of my business really, but just what is the story of Cielo Grande?
A comment Gloria made as she dropped me off at home summed up the day for me. "If this is our choice," she said, "if it's between living in Katani Falls, barely getting by, never knowing if the lights will be on, if we'll have heat, or if our medications and living someplace like Ceilo Grande where everything still works and there's every comfort imaginable ... well, I would choose there."
The first cloud of the day passed across her face as she said that. "But, of course, no one who lives in Katani Falls can afford to live there," she added, her voice dropping.
I was saddened by the choice she posed, especially knowing there might be another even more unusual one. Could what they're doing on Altos be our best alternative now? The best we could hope for? Is it even possible for everyone in Katani Falls to live that way? Could I help make that possible? Gloria's words keep running through my mind. "If this is our choice ..."
... then my choice is clear.
(c) Sarah Anne Edwards, 2009
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