Random notes from a trip between California and New York. Not an analysis, not an academic study, just a few things that struck me as I travelled through cities which, on paper, belong to the same country but which, in reality, seem like different worlds.

I returned from the United States a few days ago and, as always when I go there, I came home with more questions than answers. There’s one thing I keep thinking about whenever I hear people talking about America in Italy: we often discuss the United States as if it were a single entity, almost a character. America does this, America thinks that. Then you actually go there and realise that there are huge differences between one city and another – not just political, but cultural, social and even in the way people experience public spaces.

San Francisco, the city where urban decay has become part of the landscape

San Francisco is probably the place that made the biggest impression on me, for better or for worse. Because it’s a beautiful city. And I’m not just saying that. There are views that seem almost unreal: the Golden Gate Bridge emerging from the fog, the hills, the Victorian houses, the bay. It’s one of those cities that reminds you why the United States continues to have an extraordinary ability to fascinate the rest of the world. Yet it’s also the city where I saw the most obvious signs of decay.

One evening, my friends and I went to the Mission District because we fancied some Mexican food. We’d been told it was one of the best areas in the city for that sort of cuisine. Five minutes after getting out of our Uber, we came across a scene that, frankly, I hadn’t expected to see in one of the richest and most important cities on the planet. There was what looked every bit the part of an impromptu market for stolen goods. Bicycles, phones, clothes, all sorts of items laid out on the pavement. Almost all the sellers looked like drug addicts. I don’t want to diagnose anyone, but anyone who has seen the images of the fentanyl crisis in the United States will immediately recognise situations like this.

At one point a policeman turned up, and within seconds the market had vanished. Literally. Everyone grabbed their things and scattered into the nearby streets. We stood there looking around, trying to work out what had just happened, and a few moments later a man calmly started urinating against a letterbox. It wasn’t so much the incident itself that struck me. It was the feeling that nobody seemed particularly surprised.

This is probably what I’ll take away from San Francisco. Not the urban decay, which exists in so many cities around the world, but the way it’s been normalised. And as a European observer, I find it hard to understand how some in local politics can continue to regard as secondary issues that seem so obvious to anyone who spends a few days in the city. Perhaps it is a superficial perception; perhaps living there would give one a better understanding of certain dynamics, but it was a very strong impression.

Los Angeles: the Californian dream ends after sunset

Los Angeles gave me a similar feeling, albeit in a different way. Los Angeles is a city that seems to exist constantly between two extremes. On the one hand, there are places like Malibu, which I think is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. The villas overlooking the Pacific, the beaches, the cliffs. It is exactly the California one imagines when thinking of California.

On the other hand, there are places that seem to belong to a different world. The example that has stuck with me the most is Venice Beach. During the day, it’s full of tourists, families, surfers and people playing sports. It’s a pleasant, lively place – almost a must-visit if you’re in Los Angeles.

But then we went back after dark and it really felt like a different neighbourhood. Most of the ordinary passers-by had disappeared, whilst homeless people, people clearly under the influence of drugs, and a general sense of decay had appeared – something that hadn’t been there just a few hours earlier. I’m not saying it was a war zone, because it wasn’t. But I was struck by how quickly the atmosphere could change.

Here, too, the contrast is striking. California remains one of the most dynamic and innovative economies on the planet, yet some of its cities seem to have lost the ability to maintain even basic standards of decorum and public order in certain areas. And it is precisely this contrast, even more so than the deterioration itself, that strikes those arriving from Europe.

San Diego: moderate America still exists

After San Francisco and Los Angeles, San Diego came as something of a surprise. In Europe, people constantly talk about California as if it were a uniform entity, but San Diego struck me as very different. Quieter, tidier, more normal. It’s hard to explain what I mean by that word, but I think it’s the right one. You get the feeling of a city that works. Not perfect, of course, but it works.

Politically, too, I got a different impression. San Diego is often regarded as a Democratic city, and it is, but it didn’t strike me as being dominated by the kind of ideological climate we often associate with the major cities of the West Coast. Similarly, the Republicans in the area generally seem very moderate. As a European, I had the feeling of being in one of the few parts of the United States where there is still a large section of the population that does not view politics as a religious war.

That’s probably another reason why San Diego left me with such a positive impression. Not because it’s perfect, but because it seems to strike a balance that’s becoming increasingly hard to find in other American cities.

La Jolla and Coronado: where quality of life is not a luxury, but a privilege

To be honest, if someone asked me which was the most beautiful place I’d seen on the trip, I’d probably say La Jolla or Coronado. Walking through their streets, you almost feel as though you’re in an idealised version of California. Everything is clean, tidy and well-kept. I didn’t see any tents, I didn’t see any dirt, I didn’t see the scenes I’d witnessed a few days earlier in San Francisco.

There’s one particular incident that I’ll probably remember more than most. As soon as we arrived on Coronado Beach, we’d spotted a few beach volleyball courts and decided to have a quick game. After a few minutes, we were approached by a group of American lads who asked if we fancied a game against them. It might seem trivial, but at that moment I felt as though I were in a scene from an American film. We were playing beach volleyball with lads we’d met five minutes earlier, on a huge beach overlooking the Pacific, with palm trees, the famous Hotel del Coronado in the background and a sunset that looked as if it had been designed specifically for a postcard. It is moments like these that rarely feature in political debates about America, but which help us understand why this country continues to hold a special fascination for millions of people.

Obviously, there’s a very simple explanation: these are extremely affluent areas. House prices are beyond the reach of most people. It would be naive to ignore that. However, the contrast was so striking that it was impossible not to notice it.

The question I’ve asked myself time and again whilst walking between Coronado and La Jolla is whether urban decline is truly inevitable, or whether, quite simply, there are communities that demand high standards and local authorities that manage to meet them. I don’t have a definitive answer, but having seen such stark differences in the space of a few days, it’s hard not to ask the question.

New York, the capital of the world that seems to teeter on the brink of chaos

The final stop was New York. And New York, as always, is New York.

I may be going against the grain, but it’s probably the city that impressed me the least out of the four. It remains one of the world’s great cities; that is beyond dispute. Manhattan continues to exude a sense of economic and cultural power that few cities can match. You only need to look at the skyline from Lower Manhattan to understand why it remains the financial hub of the West.

However, I found the city to be in a much worse state of disrepair than I had imagined. The underground system, in particular, left a negative impression on me. Much of the infrastructure seems to have aged badly, and social deprivation is visible practically everywhere.

At times, I almost felt as though I were in a dystopia. Not because New York is a failed city – far from it. But because the contrast between its enormous global significance and certain everyday problems is really hard to ignore. It is a city that continues to exert an enormous fascination, yet at the same time seems to bear the weight of decades of problems that have never really been resolved.

Four cities, four Americas

Behind the word ‘America’ lie realities that often bear little resemblance to one another.

By the end of the trip, I was even more convinced that talking about ‘America’ in the singular makes little sense. There is the San Francisco of Silicon Valley and the San Francisco of fentanyl. There is the Los Angeles of Malibu’s mansions and the Los Angeles of Venice Beach’s decline after sunset. There is the moderate, pragmatic San Diego. There are La Jolla and Coronado, which seem almost like another planet. And there is New York, which continues to be both one of the most influential and one of the most contradictory cities in the world.

I don’t know if these observations have any particular political significance. Probably not. They are simply the impressions I’ve taken away with me. But I believe that’s one of the purposes of travelling: to remind us that reality is almost always more complicated than the slogans we use to describe it.