Birthday in Northern California, Day 6: Highway 1

Although I didn't get to sleep in, I was extremely invigorated from the rest I got at the Jabberwock Inn. Those sleep number beds are great! The fog in Monterey was very thick today, despite news that a heat wave was supposed to come through and burn it away. I am not as depressed as I thought I'd be now that the celebrations are over because in a sense, I have one more day to explore then back to the comfort of home! Sitting on the window bench, enjoying the sounds of seagulls and smells of coffee brewing in the kitchen below, I witnessed the city come alive. I heard the bells ring at the school down the street and faintly a kid leading the Pledge of Allegiance over an intercom. Talk about nostalgia...

Breakfast was phenomenal! We started off with some wonderful coffee, an apple danish, an quiche-like egg dish with peppers and beans and lots of greens (served with salsa and sour cream), a side of fruit, and AMAZING orange juice smoothie. I will have to get the recipe for that. An elderly lady helped serve the guests, making sure everyone's coffee was always full and by the end I was wired on caffeine. I realized now it had been a few days of not having any coffee or caffeine due to the flu. Now it was hitting!

This morning I walked down to Cannery Row for one last view of the coast, dropped off the postcards at the post office, then headed up Highway One back towards San Francisco.

There is only one word to describe the drive - FOG. I was insistent that if I couldn't see the beautiful sights due to this thick mass of water vapor, I was going to stop at every little stop along the way. I visited some Artichoke and Strawberry farms, a creepy little pumpkin patch, and spent some time at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk and Surfing Museum. The Boardwalk, though deserted and under much construction, made me excited for the up and coming Texas State Fair. I'm not quite sure why I love amusement parks and fair grounds so much. The Santa Cruz Boardwalk (being one of the few beach-side amusement parks left in California and being 100 years old at that), was definitely worth the stop.

(Views from the Santa Cruz Boardwalk)

At one point I stopped on the side of the road because I saw a discernible sign that had a hiking symbol near Half Moon Bay. After the rich breakfast and driving all day, I decided to pull over and go for a stroll. It was one of the more surreal experiences of the trip... walking on these huge cliffs with nothing but the sound of cars and waves crashing on the supposed beach, none of which you could see. The path had no signs and visibility was limited. I decided to take off my shirt as I had complete privacy. It was like my own little playground!

The day winded down with a drive back to San Mateo. I didn't quite want to leave nature, and even started to grow fond of the fog. In perspective I only left the city for less than two days but it felt like a week's escape. I spent the rest of the evening packing up and preparing for my flight the next day, watching classic movies on the television.



As a summary, my vacation was amazing. Though short and becoming infected with the flu, I proved to myself that I could push through it and see and experience some amazing things. I wouldn't make a single change, except to share it it someone else of course :-(. That will definitely be taken into consideration for my next travels. Until then, it's blogging and dreaming...

Birthday in Northern California, Day 5: Monterey & the Jabberwock B&B

I booked a room at this very well-reviewed Jabberwock Inn, tucked away near historic Cannery Row in Monterey, as a birthday present from my mother. This place was just amazing. The minute I arrived I was greeted by Dawn, one of the owners. She first gave me a tour of the place, showing me the beautiful little common areas (where there was always free freshly baked cookies laying out, complimentary teas and snacks, little Alice & Wonderland knick-knacks and later in the evening free wine and sherry). She pointed out the little garden that had two standard poodles, an oyster-shell Bouche Ball court, and wonderful landscaping. On the way up to my room, there was a secret closet that housed a refrigerator with complimentary soft drinks and juice for the guests. What a charming place!

My room was the Mimsy Room (from the poem Jabberwocky) on the third floor that overlooked the entire Monterey Bay with complete privacy. I learned from the other owner, Bill, that it's one of the most popular rooms, one in which his own mother wants to stay whenever she gets sick and needs to recover (which is exactly what I need after this flu!). I opened the windows to the sounds of seagulls and the smell of the ocean, only a few blocks away. There was a nice little window bench I sprawled out on and just watched the outside world. The weather was perfect.

(Photo One: Peeking out the window, Photo Two: View from the Mimsy Room, Photo Three: Jelly beans and scotch next to the bed!)

I decided to walk down to Cannery Row, the historic namesake of the Steinbeck novel I have yet to read. The area had become extremely commercialized and developed and it was very difficult to get access to the beach or even a view of the shore. I wonder what Steinbeck would have thought of all this. It reminds me of many places I visit that just don't hold the charm that they either used have to or were intended to have (like Bricktown in Oklahoma or the Strand in Galveston). I did manage to see an otter or two by the beach, they were so cute!

(Photos of the shoreline in Monterey)

On the way back I bought some extremely cheap pizza and some liquor, although I wish I'd had waited since at the Jabberwock a couple of the guests as well as Dawn and John were mingling in the little indoor porch area, eating appetizers and drinking wine. I noticed the dry erase board that had the names and origins of all the guests. There were couples from Long Island, London, and Berkeley, and we all chatted that evening about things to see around the area, photography, Irish music, Obama, accents, TV Shows, NYC, and beyond. I was so appreciative to have people to talk with on my birthday and to be in such a welcoming warm place. The sun set and we all retired to our respective rooms.

I spent the last remaining hours of my birthday laying on the window beach writing postcards to friends and taking a nice little shower. The fog crept in and soon you could not discern details outside for more than a block away, which was great for me because that meant lots of privacy. It started to get cold, despite being wrapped in some blankets, so I closed the windows and headed off to my sleep-number bed (which I had never experienced). I had a night cap of complimentary Scotch and jelly beans which was provided at the bedside and had a great night's sleep.

"My wife cried when we left, what else can I say" - Review about the Jabberwock.

I am a little concerned with my psyche tomorrow. The day after my birthday is sometimes depressing, like the party is over. My day is over. We'll see how it goes.

Birthday in Northern California, Day 5: Big Sur Beauty

Happy Birthday to Me!

I rented a car this morning and headed off to Monterey blasting New Wave and Alternative music playing on one of the local radio stations. The weather was perfect, I was feeling much better, and there was not a bit of traffic. Driving on 101 South the valleys eventually rid themselves of houses and civilization and I could smell cypress and pine from my rolled down window. Freedom and celebration for me!

Nearing the Pacific, I saw the dreaded sea mist / fog start to creep in. At first I thought it was smoke from a forest fire with the strange brownish tint but after much asking around I eventually learned this was par for the course. Since I made very good time, I decided to drive past Monterey to Carmel and beyond to Big Sur. At about that time the radio station receptions completely died except for one channel that had this strange british voices talking about Abba and getting sick on mussels. Completely bizarre but I had no other options. I zoomed through Highway 1 as there was really nothing to SEE due to the very thick fog. Highway 1 I learned is not the place to drive fast and I almost scared myself a few sharp turns.

I drove on past Garrappata State Park, past seemingly beautiful views. I was on a mission to see two sites I remember from my childhood that caused my insane fascination with Big Sur. First stop was the Henry Miller Museum in the Big Sur Park. Surrounded my tall trees, this little cabin store had a few new features, including a gigantic stage and some art work in the back. I bought a commemorative book for my father, who introduced me to this when I was little, explored around out back, and finally relaxed and listened to a local guitarist play acoustic Beatles songs. I think Henry Miller would have been proud of this place.

(Photo One: Henry Miller Museum, Photo Two: Me playing among the art in the back, Photo Three: Clovers in the back area!, Photo Four: The Bathroom)

The second place of interest is this wonderful little restaurant overlooking the coast called Nepenthe. Parking was brutal as was the wait. Apparently I was not the only one who was a fan of this place. I ordered myself a Bloody Mary and sat out on some cushions and stairs and soaked in a bit of the sun shining through the fog. I met a man named Noel who asked so very politely to borrow my phone to make a call, to which I agreed and the person on the other line eventually wished me a very Happy Birthday. Worth the risk of helping out a stranger right there! While talking to this lady friend of his, he joked, "If I die young, tell my mother I was gay!" Not sure what that meant but it was humoring.

(The patio at Nepethe / Bloody Mary Time!)

I stopped along the way back to Monterey at a few 'vantage' points just so I knew there was a damned ocean out there through the fog. I don't know what attracts me so much to this area. Perhaps it's the violent beauty of the ocean battling the coastline... of the forest inching it's way to the very edge of the sea. The California fauna that stays vibrant all year long is so very different from that of Texas that a patch of wild grass I could investigate for quite some time. Next stop is the infamous Jabberwock Bed & Breakfast.

(a good peak I had of the Big Sur bay through the fog)

Birthday in Northern California, Day 4

I was not a happy camper today, in the middle of a horrible horrible flu. I spent half the day trying to find a hotel nearby. I had been a pretty good sport with staying at the hostel, sharing every inch of your space with complete strangers. I ended up booking a very cheap hotel that thank goodness was just a block down the hill and got out of that place quick. There is nothing more wonderful than scraping yourself off the nasty street and getting thee into a corporate run hotel if just for one night. My room was quiet, clean, air-conditioned, and best of all had the WHITEST bathroom I have ever seen. I laid in the dark and rested, taking some drugs to recover from the fevers. By sun break, I felt like a million bucks... well maybe not a million but definitely a thousand.

After bathing off the travel grime, making myself a cup of complimentary coffee, and molting a bunch of hair, I headed out to get some food from Chutneys. Their Palak Paneer looked like spewed green pea soup from the Exorcist but it tasted wonderful. I headed to Chinatown to get souvenirs before I left San Francisco and ran into a gigantic festival going on there! There were musicians, dancers, and tons of vendors selling new and unique products, none of which I could read. Feeling ballsy with my renewed health, I stopped by North Beach for some espresso and a drink at Vesuvio's one last time. I was approached by a young man wearing a paperboy hat. He was so incredibly shy. He was a young writer named Todd, who had just returned from Afghanistan serving in the military. Though I did know how much of what he said was true, we talked very briefly and I felt sorry for this young disgruntled man. Among being 'bored' and 'tired', he insisted on paying me money because I was sick (which I gratefully declined). What is with people giving me money my last day in a town (particularly the Italian district)? He wanted to take me to France, and I was about to take him up on it. With a pat on the back and a blessing for better time, I left him and headed back.

Last stop that night was at the Bourbon and Branch, an underground cocktail lounge in which you needed a password. Located on the edge of the Tenderloin District, this place was in a non-descript building that mockingly had the title "Anti-Saloon League" on the sign outside. With a buzzer and a door and nothing else to imply there was a full service bar on the other side, it was exactly what I'd think a speakeasy would be like. Inside it was dark with classic 1920s jazz playing faintly. The waiters were all wearing period-style clothing and the drinks were very interesting!

I got the Cucumber Gimlet which was frothy, sweet, and delightful! Again I was awkwardly standing alone at the bar and sipped up my drink and left.

Not a complete waste for a day! Tomorrow would be my birthday and I needed to rest up.

Birthday in Northern California, Day 3

I was woken up by the extremely loud dump trucks roaring through our alley at the ripe hour of 6:45am. I was supposed to be down at the Ferry Building by 8:15am for my Napa Valley Wine Tour so I just used the roaring as an alarm clock. Barely alive I headed through Chinatown, getting a Sesame Ball for breakfast (which I finally learned are referred to as the Chinese Donut).
Arriving at the Ferry Building the sky was just clearing up from the morning coastal fog and I had a beautiful view of the Bay Bridge and the rigs off in the distance. Our tour group consisted of about thirty people, mostly a bit older. I found myself in a completely different world than the previous days, spent around hostel dwellers, beat poets, and the crazies of Haight Street. Here I was with all American tourists who were staying at fancy hotels and spending a TON of money buying every wine that pleased their pallet. Quite the culture shock, but everyone was very nice to me. I was the only one there that didn't know a soul.

(Bay Bridge in the morning... trying to be artistic)

Our guide was an older gentleman by the name of Tom, who kept us quite entertained the entire shuttle ride out to Napa Valley with a history of the surrounding areas. The drive to Napa was wonderful, going over the Golden Gate Bridge, past Sausalito and arriving in the beautiful valleys filled with rows of rich green vines, prime of the grape-picking season. We visited four Wineries over a couple of hours: Andretti Winery, Rutherford Grove, V. Sattui, and Rutherford Ranch.

I realized half way through I was not fit for such heavy wine tasting, but felt pressure from the others and to prevent standing around awkwardly to participate in the wine tastings at every place. Luckily we had a wonderful wonderful lunch at V. Sattui, one of the more popular vineyards in Napa Valley. I had a crab cake with macaroni & truffles at their little Deli, a place once recommended by Rachael Ray!

Here are my picks for the best wines I tasted at each Winery:
Andretti Selections Barbera 2008 (great medium bodied red wine. Left behind great legs)
2005 Estate Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon Howell Mountain (very earthy and rich)
V. Sattui's 2006 Reserve Napa Valley Merlot (spiciest merlot I've ever tasted, I actually purchased this one!)
2006 Rutherford Ranch Zinfandel Napa Valley (quite fruity and smooth)

I was unsure if I'd make it to the last few wineries but I definitely knew I would not be awake on the shuttle ride to the ferry in Vallejo that would take us back through the bay area at sunset. It was incredibly beautiful though the ferry was a bit bumpy. At this point my health wasn't so good. I was not sure if it was the wine, the sunburn, or if something else was wrong but I was feeling extremely ill.

Back at the hostel I crashed on my bed where I stayed for the rest of the evening, talking with my new roommate Laura from the UK. It was such a surreal experience, having the sun go down slowly, talking to a girl from overseas about relationships, and slowly starting to suffer from the flu. That night ended up being one of the most horrible nights on the trip. I was tossing and turning, sweating, having chills, and fevers. I did NOT want to have swine flu just in time for my birthday, but I definitely had a bad case of something.

Birthday in Northern California, Day 2

"Can you spare me some change ma'am, like a boob job?"

There's nothing like waking up super early to get your dibs on the bathroom, trying not to wake up the five hung-over strangers in your hostel room. They say Virgos are planners so I had my shower things and a change of clothes laid out as not to trip around the dark room making too much noise. The cramped hostel was already starting to get to me. A line had formed after I rushed my shower. An old german man caught me on my run back to the room to point out I dropped my underwear. Uuuuuggggh.

Down in the basement there was free breakfast, which consisted of a very diverse selection of carb-heavy options. Bagels, bread, english muffins, croissants, and of course a large vat of margarine and Nutella (of course! We have Europeans in this place).

I start my foot journey to North Beach through Chinatown, which I recommend to anyone visiting San Francisco. Stockton Avenue in the morning is full of groceries getting their shipments in and you can watch what items are 'hot' in Chinatown. Surprisingly the meat markets had lines out the door and it wasn't even noon! The smells were wonderful and the people fun to watch but it was even more crowded then the touristic times to visit!

I made my way to Washington Park and decided to take a rest after stupidly walking up one of the steepest stretches of streets in the Bay Area - Powell Ave. What was I thinking? I found that I had stumbled upon the daily Tai Chi practices of the Chinatown residents. Whether in groups with outfits or like one man completely solo on his work clothes, they did the most gracefully but sometimes humorous moves. Talk about free entertainment.


I started down Columbus to City Lights Books, a historical setting for the 'beat writers' (Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg both had their earlier works published there...). The store was amazing, with controversial fiction, consignment poetry section, a "banned books" section, and tons of biographical material. I started to realize that despite how much of a bohemian I view myself, I had never ever been exposed to this movement. Despite the parody references to poetry readings, bebop jazz, berets and goatees, I had no idea about the players and the beat culture and suddenly I was inundated with a movement of writing I knew nothing about! What better way to learn more about it than to hop next door to the Beat Museum?

(Photo One: City Lights Bookstore, Photo Two: A sign in the corner of the bookstore, Photo Three: Banned Books section, Photo Four: Quote from the store owner in the alley)

With a $5 admission, I was set free in an area full of documents, books, art, a short video, and a very comprehensive exhibit of the beat writers. In the gift shop I must have looked incredibly lost, having absolutely no idea where to start. Luckily the nice employees of the store came to my rescue and literally talked to me for quite some time about their recommendations. I bought a book on the Beginner's Guide to the Beat Movement and a poster that says "Fuck Hate". Why not?

Paintings in 'Jack Kerouac Alley'

I then went to Vesuvio Cafe, which shared the "Jack Kerouac Alley" with the bookstore and apparently where the writers used to hang out a lot. It was a beautiful little place that was dimly lit, full of faded colorful bohemian decorations, and best of all affordable drinks. I planted myself in the balcony room with nooks of booths cleverly named things like "Lady Psychiatrists Corner", and had a beer while writing a few postcards. Very rarely, except when traveling to Europe, that I feel like I have had a truly cultural experience. This far this has been that and the day was early. I decided why not head down to the Haight-Ashbury district to get a taste of 'hippie' culture?

(views from my seat at Vesuvio's)

The best way to get across town was to take the BART system. I don't too much like to be on the subway in a place so prone to earthquakes but alas I made it to the closest stop to Haight-Ashbury. I walked the rest of the way but the entire time was admiring this large mountain. Now I had hiked up Powell Street and was convinced I still had some muscle left, so I hiked up this gigantic hill, I later learned was Bueno Vista park. Along the way I had peaks of views of the entire bay area and hardly anyone around except some kids smoking pot and quietly playing guitar. I laid down at a clearing at the very top and enjoyed the great view and cold breeze, reading some of the books I just purchased.

After a while I realized I was there to see Haight-Ashbury, so I hurried down the hill and delivered right into Haight Street. Immediately I was approached by a group of young punks drinking in the street asking me for change. Block after block this happened and I started to get very defensive... like I was just an object for them to pick on when I was a nice person and would gladly talk with them if they didn't confront me in such an exploitative manner. I have heard from many people this place wasn't like it used to be. My dad once told me the real death of the hippie movement was drugs, and what brought healthy young loving peaceful individuals to become desperate to fund their addiction. Perhaps I'm being very judgmental of these strangers (i.e. the people who hung out on the streets in that area), but I hardly took out my camera to take photos of the beautiful murals of the past. It wasn't worth the hoard of junkies coming up to me asking for change or to ask if I wanted to buy hash. I also realized I had spent the entire day wandering around on my own and minding my own business without being bothered. That can spoil you.

Best tee-shirt I saw at the Beat Museum said in plain text:
"Stop bitching and start your own damned revolution"

That afternoon Matt, the young man from Belgium, called me up and wanted to join me for drinks at Vesuvio Cafe. I thought at first it was going to be a stressful night with having to deal with language barriers but I came to learn how incredibly quick we started to adapt to each other's dialect and soon after personality. I talked with Matt about everything from complex philosophy, racism, spirituality, and general responsibilities of humans. He told me his situation, having chosen to not return to Belgium with his family after a visit here and his dire struggle to find a job or direction to live here. As a good looking, fit, extremely intelligent and open minded person as he was, it really put into perspective how amazing our country is that someone would be willing to struggle so much to stay here.
On a side note, Vesuvio's at night is extremely charming. Old men were playing chess, young couples were sipping on absinthe, a few people had the bohemian look going, and it felt like something right out of the 50s or earlier. Definitely worth the second visit!

Now on every vacation I go on, there is always one extremely awesome and random event that occurs, and on our walk back to the hostel was that event. In a completely deserted Chinatown, I saw three young black men and a bohemian white guy get out of their car that was blasted old school hip-hop. In the street, they all congregated in a line and I knew exactly what they were going to do and jumped in to join them. At 1am I did the Electric Slide, something I have not done since Elementary school, with complete strangers. We all gave each other high fives and they totally thought it rocked that I 'got' it and joined in. Matt stood there almost dumb-founded and I could only assume that he was thinking 'Only in America...'. Back at the hostel the conversations continued. For the lack of company during the day, it was so nice to have such good company into the late night. Very successful day!

Birthday in Northern California, Day 1

"If you are traveling with a small child, remember to put on your mask first!"

I have to thank Southwest Airlines for their incredible travel deals (that allowed me this spontaneous trip), and I absolutely love flying with them... although I think my flight attendant was about to crack. She gave me a dozen bags of peanuts, not sure why, but had a ridiculous smile on her face as if she's just dished out a dozen plastic pacifiers. Oh goodness. Despite the many stops, I got two extra hours when I arrived in San Francisco.

Just like in a movie, upon my arrival at the Adelaide Hostel, the song "California Dreamin" comes on the radio. The first thing I saw in the room was a pair of thong underwear drying in the open window and a joint rolled up below. It looked like the kind of dump rock stars would stay at touring through San Francisco. I dug it!

I hit the town as soon as I was settled and wondered to Chinatown. Immediately I observed that there were about twice as many homeless / crazies and half as many police on the streets. I managed to get my beloved sesame ball from the one cafe still open there in the late afternoon. Heaven! After getting lost in many souvenir shops, which I don't typically care for except for this specific Chinatown that has the most amazing trinkets.

(Chinatown souvenirs, freshly fried sesame ball!)

On the way back I stopped in a Korean-operated dive bar where I got my first sense of drink prices in the city. $8 for a tiny glass of wells? I ended up striking up a conversation with Loing, the beautiful bartender. I ended up staying there for quite a while, striking up conversations with a gay man with a very sick dog, a Spanish man with a thick accent, and Ron, an off-duty police man, who bought me a drink and recommended great places to check out. Loing also bought me a drink for my birthday. What a nice bunch of people!

I went back to the hostel and met the ladies I was staying with. The french girl was the fine owner of the thong and joint, and two English ladies invited me out on the town with them and the others of the hostel that night.
We all waited in the alley which was full of people... some doing art, some blatantly enjoying some MJ, and a young kid running around. They all seemed to know each other like a big family, I almost felt like I was intruding. Very strange feeling. Socializing as I do, I realized that as an American I was indeed less of a deer in the headlights than my European counterparts, which was strange. Among the crowd I met people from Denmark, London, Austria, Poland, Belgium, and Australia. After having a few drinks it becomes very hard to have a conversation with all the accents and having to make sure I was 'talking on their level' if need be.

We all headed to the Element Lounge near the hostel for a free Reggae show. One of my roommates enjoyed my dancing apparently and bought me a drink. I met a very nice Belgian guy named Matt who talked with me about photography for a while. We had plans to hang out tomorrow.

What a fun night! Ahhhh California Dreamin'...