A Virtual View of the Valley

Imagine a place where people fear crime and obsess on airline shuttle schedules, a land of bonsai clubs and super-fast roller coasters, where churches and commercial sex flourish side by side.

Don’t recognize it?

Welcome to the San Fernando Valley, as viewed from the Internet.

It’s the view you would get of the Virtual Valley if you lived in Finland, say, or Zaire or Iowa, and surfing the Internet’s World Wide Web was your only source of information about the place.

If it’s not exactly a view that jibes with reality, that’s to be expected. The Web--with its ability to convey graphics, photos, sound bites and even video clips in addition to text--is still young and has attracted some segments of society far out of proportion to their real-life relevance.

One caveat: Not even the most dedicated Webhead could come close to exploring all Valley sites. There are simply too many. For example, if you entered “Burbank” into one of the Web’s search engines, it would come up with more than 10,000 “hits,” meaning that Burbank is mentioned on at least that many Web pages.

By using these search engines, however, you can also take a digital tour of the Virtual Valley, a land both weird and familiar.

Spiritual matters--mainstream and fringe--are well-represented. The San Fernando Mission is mentioned on several sites, as a tourist attraction and as an important landmark in the history of the Los Angeles area.

And the Emerson Unitarian Church of Canoga Park sponsors a handsome site highlighted by a well-done drawing of its building.

The Muslim Student Assn. at Cal State Northridge created a site to express its views and even give exact, daily prayer times based on sunrise and sunset data for Northridge.

The Kosher Information Bureau, based in North Hollywood, provides an exhaustively detailed, 20-page list of certified kosher items by brand name, including not only everyday foods but also detergents, “abdominal discomfort” remedies and cat food.

Another religion follows Maitreya, a man described as living anonymously in London since leaving the Himalayas. He is pictured in a white headdress. On an appointed day, the faithful believe, “the international television networks will be linked together” so that he can speak to the world, according to a site that lists a Tarzana mailing address.

“We will see His face on television, but each of us will hear His words telepathically in our own language,” it declares.

Other heavily represented Valley Web topics are real estate--some brokers now post pictures of homes for sale--and shopping of all kinds. Numerous businesses, including car and antique dealers, have Web addresses, and a handful of shops have paid to appear on the Virtual Ventura Blvd. site, where you can browse through art galleries and boutiques and join a bonsai club.

A company offering shuttles to Los Angeles International Airport has been so diligent about putting its schedules on the Web that it’s hard to avoid them when searching for Valley sites. To outsiders, it must appear that Valley residents are always dashing for a plane.

Maybe they’re just trying to escape the criminals. The West Valley LAPD station has a site that includes a rogues gallery of its “most wanted” suspects--a truly frightening bunch--and warnings about “follow-home” robberies.

There’s advice on organizing a Neighborhood Watch and a map showing the locations of recent car thefts, burglaries and robberies.

What occupies the residents of Virtual Valley when they’re not praying and fleeing the muggers?

Sex.

There is a lot of it on the Internet (although far less than some critics have declared), and given that a sizable chunk of the pornography industry calls the San Fernando Valley home, it’s not surprising to find plenty of carnal-themed sites, including a user-compiled guide to streetwalkers.

Those who find these sites abhorrent can take comfort in the fact that they are so badly written and designed that they’re unintentionally funny rather than erotic. For example, at the site for Bob’s Classy Lady in Van Nuys, you can access the Classy Cafe menu that includes “the Full Brested Chicken Sandwich,” a surprising misspelling for a strip club.

It’s one of 10 Valley joints on the Ultimate Strip Club List site, with added patrons’ comments ranging from the demeaning to the simply ungrammatical. That’s a big feature of some Web sites--comments from customers.

The Chateau, a North Hollywood sadomasochist club with its own Web site, drew a critical review from a patron on the World Sex Guide site. “At some point, I think she snuck a smoke on a cigarette,” he complained of “Mistress Laura.”

“I don’t know for sure because I was blindfolded.”

Education is not nearly as prominent a topic, but Van Nuys High School does show off its science research facilities on a set of Web pages, and Cal State Northridge put together a fascinating site on its San Fernando Solar Observatory in Sylmar.

For the out-of-town Web surfer who wants to visit the Valley the old-fashioned way, in person, there is a tourist guide to the Valley, sponsored in part by Pacific Bell, that shows smogless skies, happy children and such natural landmarks as Stoney Point (the picture appears to have been taken before it was vandalized by graffiti).

The Six Flags Magic Mountain site waxes poetic about Superman, its new roller coaster, calling it “the first ride ever to reach speeds of 100 mph.” Nowhere on the site does it mention that Superman has never flown because of technical problems.

Universal Studios touts its Waterworld attraction. Virtual visitors might wonder why a studio would spend millions to constantly remind the public of one of its all-time biggest film flops.

Far bigger than Waterworld was Earthquake--not the film, but the real thing. In recognition of that, a Sherman Oaks resident has provided links from her site to those offering earthquake information, including pictures from the 1994 Northridge quake.

Could be she wanted to show all those surfers out there in Iowa and Finland that some Valley visits are far better confined to cyberspace.