Abstract

Being Californian always seemed to hold some sort of different value when viewed from without. It was coded with something more than coordinates. Because its sheer size creates pockets and outposts, and because it is a cosmopolis, a tangled mix of tongues and deeply held outside allegiances (which make it very different from New Orleans), it casts a unique shadow, but I’ve come to realize that perhaps what it is to be Californian is as elusive as its accent.