Being Slovenian *Home Entry*

I’m an American. And as an American fitting into the stereotype the rest of the world has of me, I’m fat, I’m loud, I’m a bona fide Bush lover*, I’m overly friendly while working in retail, I refuse to speak French, I brag about where I’ve been in the world, I can tell you how much anything I own cost (with pleasure), I drive a SUV, I support the sending in of troops to help out with the ‘situation’, I owe too many credit cards, and when asked, “Where are you from?” and I assume they don’t mean what state in the United of, I will gleefully rattle off the random percentages I hold in my ‘blood line’. I’m an American, and according to the world, this is what I do.

Those who know me will know what above I fit into the stereotype of, but to the rest I will only admit one thing. I DO rattle of percentages of heritages when asked where I’m from…when talking to other Americans who are specifically asking that question. I’m not stupid enough to tell that to people from other countries. When they ask, I tell them, “I’m Canadian and damn proud. Go Canucks!”

Ha.

Anyhow, since this entry is titled ‘Being Slovenian’ you might have guessed that I am (when talking to other Americans that is) part Slovenian. 50% if you must know, from my father’s side, whose parents came to the great US of A when they were kids. (That is obnoxious rattling that off, isn’t it?) There aren’t many Slovenian traditions that were ever practiced in my family except for the frequent jokes substituting ‘Polish’ for ‘Slovenian’. (i.e. How do you stop the Slovenian Army? Turn off the carousel) but I did grow up learning three very important words:

• Dober dan = Good Day
• Hvala lepa = Thank You
• This one is going to be purely phonetic as no online translator knows what the hell I mean. Got-chey = Underpants

Okay, maybe they weren’t that important, but dober dan sounds really cool when you want to insult someone without really insulting someone but seeming like you are.

I recently found a blog from a guy who is from New York but married a girl from Slovenia and moved there. It’s a great blog, and he had an entry all about making borovnica (blueberry schnapps) which you must know made me instantly intrigued. “I can do that!” I said. Unfortunately it’s a time consuming thing to do new this weekend, so in the interim, I also made Koroška Šarkel, a type of sweet bread.

I started on the borovnica first.



Following the instructions on the blog (which, in hindsight, didn’t provide any specifications of time) I started off cleaning the blueberries, soaking them in some water, than layering them in a glass jar with some sugar. I placed the jar out in the sun and 15 minutes later checked on it to see if the sugar had melted.


Please enjoy the hummingbird getting his own sugar in this picture.

It didn’t – at all. I knew I was in for a long wait.

So….I started on the Koroška Šarkel.



The Koroška Šarkel was pretty easy to make. Prepare the yeast, make the dough, add the raisins, roll, and then bake.



As all my kitchen adventures are wont to do, it wasn’t perfect. My dough never really rose all that much. The recipe was in metric and my conversion from grams to teaspoons\cups wasn’t perfect (damn metric system!). Also, I completely forgot to add the butter.



The bread was really heavy, but it was edible. The best was when it was warm from the oven with a bit of butter. We were able to eat it for about 3 days before it turned into solid rock.



Meanwhile, outside….

DAMMIT! Melt already, melt already!


So close....

The blueberry\sugar mix took a full week of 90 degree weather before the sugar was completely dissolved. I finally brought it inside and added the most important ingredient, the slivovitz. I thankfully live right next store to Orange County’s biggest liquor store and they not only had 1 type of slivovitz, they had 20 types of slivovitz. Wanting to be as close to the real thing as possible, I got the Croatian Creation (I swear to God, that is what is on the label) and added it to my blueberry …uh, juice.

I then stuck it in the refrigerator to stew…cook…melt…whatever. I haven’t touched it since then. I’m honestly a little bit afraid.



“Ooooooh Keeeeevin!”

*I can’t tell you how hard that part was to write. I threw up a little bit.

So, how you doing?

Oi. I am SO late with the next entry. I have half of it written out already but have had so many things going on recently that I haven't gotten around to finishing it. So, I think I will just give you a quick update to what the hell I have been doing while I take yet another day (and some) to give you my actual entry. It will, of course, be immediately followed with another entry, as so you can get your fill.

Most recently what I've been dealing with is a throttle position sensor that went out on my 2004 Nissan Sentra 1.8s (I'm being detailed here so that people who look up throttle position sensors for their shitty 2004 Nissan Sentra 1.8s on the internet will actually find some information, unlike myself). This means that when I step on the gas my car goes, "hmmm, I'm not sure I want to .... GO!" To fix the throttle position sensor, you have to go through the following tedious steps:

1. Talk to your mechanic who tell you he's going to charge you $60 to hook up your car to a diagnostics machine to find out why your Check Engine light is on and your car sometimes won't go.
   
2. Take your car to AARCO who will give you the diagnostics test (which will come up with the bad throttle position sensor error) but will tell you that they won't be able to fix it.
   
3. Take your car to the mechanic who will tell you that he doesn't believe AARCO, but if you really believe that it's right, he'll put on the part for $60.
   
4. Call up Nissan dealership. They will tell you that they have to order the part and you need to come in and pay for it before they'll order it.
   
5. Go to Nissan dealership. They surprisingly have the part. You pay $128 for it and drive away happy.
   
6. Drop off car at mechanic.
   
7. Get call from mechanic who tells you it's the wrong part and it's used. Mechanic will have already called dealership to bitch them out.
   
8. Go to dealership. Same sales guy will say, "Yeah, it's the wrong part" and will order you another one. Part will be delivered in 3 business days.
   
9. 5 days pass, no call from dealership. Go to dealership because they have the part. Pick up part only to realize it's the same stupid fucking part you already have. Sales guy will say, "yeah, but this one is new"
   
10. Insist to talk to Nissan mechanic. Nissan mechanic will look confused, mumble something about a non-existant recall then say "Oh yeah, you have to get the whole thing that part attaches to, not just that one piece"
    
11. Whole Thing part not in stock. Nissan dealership tells you that there are only 3 Whole Thing Parts in the whole USA. Tells you that it will take 5 business days before it's in...and oh, it's $30 more dollars than just the throttle position sensor.
    
12. 3 days later, part is in. Unfortunately you got suckered into working the 8-5 shift at work and won't be able to pick up the part until Saturday.
    
13. DURATION OF STEPS: Look repeatedly online for new. fucking. car.

Actual entry is coming soon, I promise.

Orange County Fair - Costa Mesa, CA

And back to our regular scheduled blog:

Yes, yes, I know. I have officially spent 6 summers here in Southern California (granted, not all consequently) and up until yesterday, I had never been to the Orange County Fair. This is almost absurd to me for the following reasons:

• The Orange County Fair is in Costa Mesa. I have lived in Costa Mesa all 6 summers.
  
• The Fair runs for approximately 4 weeks. 4 weeks is plenty of time to make it to a fair for at least one day.
  
• I love fairs…and festivals…and carnivals. Basically anywhere where they are guaranteed to be selling funnel cakes and corn dogs I will most certainly enjoy.

I have tried unsuccessfully to figure out why it has taken me so long to make it to what is surely one of the bigger fairs I have ever seen. I can’t figure it out. I certainly had enough time. I certainly could afford it. It’s a mystery as Ed would say.

Convincing Kevin to accompany me to the fair was another matter all together. Kevin doesn’t like fairs. He finds them too hot, too crowded, and way too expensive. He has valid points but I tend to think of the good (funnel cakes and corn dogs) outweighing the bad. I buttered him up for weeks with vague notions of maybe, if the weather is nice and we have a little money, to perhaps, if it wasn’t too much hassle, to kind of go to the fair. He always said maybe in the exact same vague manner and as the weeks went on, my time was running out. Finally, on the second to last day of the fair, I put on my best sad puppy eyes and whiney voice and said, “Please can we go to the fair? Pleeeeeease? Pretty pretty pleeeeeeease? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze??”

No, I’m not proud, but I got to go to the fair.

Because the fairgrounds are about 3 miles away from our house, we decided to take our bikes there. We save about $8 in parking fees and the headache of actually finding a spot to park.


Sand sculpture

We walked in and immediately set out to find something to eat. Kevin opted for a pulled pork sandwich and I held out for a falafel sandwich at the Greek place. During the course of the day, we had that and a corn dog (!), a vanilla ice cream cone, and a smorgasbord of fried artichoke hearts, zucchini, and mushrooms (Kevin’s choice). I honestly was amazed at the fried food options there. From a person coming from Wisconsin, that’s saying a lot. They even had fried Snickers bars and fried Coke. Fried Coke? What is that anyhow? My favorite food listed there that I wouldn’t dare eat is the fried Krispy Kreme chicken sandwich. That’s right, a piece of fried chicken in between two Krispy Kreme donuts. I don’t even have anything witty to say about it, I think it speaks for itself.


Fried Veggies

After our first round of food, we went to look at the livestock. We saw the world’s finest collection of odd looking chickens, I pet the bad side of a cow, and I got attacked by a bee when looking at the steers. For Kevin’s sake I will tell you that the bee landed on my shoulder and I freaked out. I started running in circles and screaming, “GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!” while Kevin stood there and yelled towards me, “Stay still! I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” But I kept running and freaking out until I finally swatted it away with the only item I had in my hand which was my camera. By then I had more people looking at me than at the steers and Kevin just stood there rolling his eyes. For the rest of the afternoon Kevin mocked me and my fear of bees. While I felt silly, I didn’t feel as silly as this goat:


Overheard: Daddy! That goat doesn't have a head!

Oh, and here’s the one of many odd looking chickens:



And a pig who needs a little TP:



Feeling like I shouldn’t just face one fear in a single day, after the livestock we went on the Sky Tram thing. You know, that little rickety bench seat that takes you from one end of the grounds to the other via the world’s smallest cable 30 feet up in the air. Beth and I used to ride the same thing at Summerfest when we got too tired. With my (now) fear of heights, this ride was torture. I held on for dear life while Kevin did his best to distract me with funny fried food signs. Afterwards I was shaking and had myself three cigarettes and the world’s most expensive cup of beer to calm down. Then I had another beer, but in the bigger more expensive size.


Not the Sky Tram thing, but another ride I would not go on.

Later, we headed over to the Midway to play some games. Kevin saw the below guy with a Homer and sparks of jealousy washed over him. While we couldn’t find any game that was giving away Homer, we did find a game that was giving away Bart and sat down to play. It was the perfect game too. You played against other fairgoers and the object was to fill up a beer pitcher with a tap of water that kept moving. After $12 we walked away with Bart.



We were beginning to get low on money, so we spent the next couple of hours walking around, looking at the games and the rides, watching the acrobats, laughing at the kids on the pony rides, and general people watching.



After the sun went down, the fair became unbearably crowded so we decided to head home. I will say that biking was an excellent idea for getting to the fair but later on when we were tired from walking around all day, it was a bit tough. We made it though.



All in all, the fair was awesome. I’d love to go again next year….if I can only convince Kevin. I’ll have to work on him starting in April I think.

Travel Log DAY FOUR

On 06/29/07 I started off on a 4 day holiday up to central\northern California. The following is the travel log from the trip, broken up into four chapters. The regular scheduled blog will be back in a couple weeks.

DAY FOUR

I woke up early on Monday morning. I knew I had a long drive ahead of me though I told myself that I wouldn’t hurry. I fully admit the late night at the hotel bar affected my head. A long shower in the handicap shower stall, a couple of aspirin and two tall glasses of water did nothing to help. I left the hotel at 9 AM and stopped at Jamba Juice for a recoup smoothie.

By 9:30 I was on the 101 on my way home. There are some things I don’t understand in urban planning. OK, there are a lot of things I don’t understand about urban planning, like why have traffic lights that have the green arrow that is green for approximately 1.45 seconds which isn’t even enough time for me to realize that the light has turned green much less step on the gas and make the turn? Why develop a freeway system where three separate highways join into one single 2-lane highway at exactly the same place? Why put up yield signs if no one actually ever yields to stop? Shouldn’t it be, “Oh, Just Go” signs instead? And the point of all this is, why in the hell do they have Hwy 101, which is 3 lanes of traffic on either side, just end after the Golden Gate Bridge and send you directly into downtown? It just…ends. One minute you’re enjoying the view at 70 mph and the 2nd minute you’re at a traffic light (one of many) with a Kinko’s on the corner. After 45 minutes of fighting downtown San Francisco traffic, I had the pleasure of 70 mph glory again.

I called Kevin after the downtown madness. I had one last place I wanted to go on this trip but I couldn’t exactly remember how to get there. When Kevin and I first started dating, when he was still living in WI and I was out here, we drove up to San Francisco for a weekend. Purely by accident, we stumbled upon a place called Casa de Fruta. We were at that shy, giggly stage of dating (well, I was…Kevin was mostly just shy) and Casa de Fruta was this huge Mecca of roadside attraction joy. Something about that place opened us up a bit and got us laughing without nervously wondering if the other person thought us silly or weird. Maybe it was the Casa de Choo-Choo they had on site. Maybe it was the Casa de Wine tasting we had. Whatever it was, it was the start of a great memorable weekend. I felt I had to stop and pay homage.



Casa de Fruta is about 20 minutes east of the 101 on Hwy 152. Because it’s been so dry and the grass so yellow, I barely remembered the landscape from the first time we were there. However, since Case de Fruta is pretty much the only thing out there, it’s extremely hard to miss.


Casa de Choo-Choo!

I first stopped in the Casa de Wine and had a Case de Wine tasting. The tasting is free and you’re allowed to sample two of their wines. They primarily do fruit wines so I tasted the bing cherry and pomegranate and promptly purchases two bottle of the bing cherry for the 2 for 1 special.


Casa de Wine!

I then stopped in their Casa de Fruit Stand\Casa de Grocery\Casa de Souvenir shop and spent more money than I probably should as I was very caught up in the Casa de Moment. I wandered around their Casa de Parking Lot and spent a lot time taking Casa de Pictures. It was Casa de Great.

Casa de Old Truck with Fruit and Jam display!

Casa de We've Been Here For Awhile!

After about an hour, I knew I had to get back on the road. I said good bye to Casa de Fruta and headed back to the 101.

About 5 hours later, I realized that I should have taken Interstate 5 instead of Hwy 101. I had said I wanted to take my time but at that point, I just wanted to get home. Hwy 101 is incredibly boring and Kansas-like from Salinas to San Luis Obispo. I stopped as sparingly as I could. I called up every one of my family members pleading with them to talk me through the flat lands and the distinct smell of pigs and cow manure. By 6 PM I had made it to Santa Barbara, where I stopped at a hotel restaurant for dinner. I was the youngest one there by about 40 to 50 years but it was a nice break from highway lines.

Finally, at 9 PM – 12 hours after I left the dark handicap hotel room in Santa Rosa, I pulled into my driveway. I was tired and I smelled bad but it was comforting to be there as much as it was sad that the trip was over. I went inside and made Kevin admire all the things I bought. As the days went on and I described my trip, the more Kevin was interested in going. I will definitely do this again – with Kevin. Maybe we’ll do different tours at Hearst Castle; maybe we’ll do different wineries, and maybe, just maybe we’ll make it all the way to the Redwoods or maybe even Portland.

Travel Log DAY THREE

On 06/29/07 I started off on a 4 day holiday up to central\northern California. The following is the travel log from the trip, broken up into four chapters. The regular scheduled blog will be back in a couple weeks.

I had a hard time waking up Sunday morning as I happened to be sleeping in the world’s most comfortable bed. Although I was wide awake, I stayed in bed watching a bad movie on HBO and ordering room service. While I normally don’t condone spending $15 on a sub par breakfast, it was heavenly. HBO, fuzzy bathrobe, bacon and eggs, and the world’s most comfortable bed….I truly didn’t want to leave.

I finally tore myself away around 11 AM and headed out to Santa Rosa via Hwy 116 to Hwy 101. Hwy 116 is perfectly hilly and dotted with cows and grape vines. Ever drive in your car, windows down, sunroof open, beautiful landscape out the window, warm breeze blowing in, something jammin’ on your kick ass Nissan Sentra stereo, smoking a cigarette, drinking a venti decaf iced Americano thinking to yourself a camera man in the backseat would be getting some awesome footage of you in that exact moment if only you had a camera man in the backseat? Just me then.



My plan for the day was to check into my hotel room at the Hilton early, then from there go to a few wineries. On the 101, I missed my turn off and had to stop for directions in a small coffee place with a tiki theme called Bad Ass Coffee. I didn’t have their coffee but I will admit they gave bad ass instructions. I was also grateful that I was able to check into my hotel before noon, even though it took me until the next day to figure out that they had given me a handicap room. You would think that the shower with the ramp and stool inside would have tipped me off, but no. As well, I choose to ignore the fact that they might actually have thought me handicapped.

After the luxury of the hotel spa the night before, I was really disappointed in the handicap room I received. It was dark and the sheets were scratchy. I poured over the winery map the front desk gave me and got out of there as soon as possible.

I decided my best bet was to hit the wineries closest to the hotel. While I truly believe that everyone in wine country is driving around drunk, I wasn’t planning on being one of them. If I did drink too much, I wanted to be close enough to take a cab. With that said I started off and managed to get myself lost. I got so lost that at one point I cried to no one in particular, “There are 200 wineries in Sonoma County! There are so many wineries you could spit and hit one! Why can’t I seem to find a single one?” Approximately three minutes later I stumbled upon Ledson Winery and all was good.

I was very impressed with Ledson, if only for the castle like atmosphere. The wine tasting came in three types: the Knights Tasting, the Nobility Tasting and the Royalty Tasting. Knowing it was going to be a long afternoon with lots of reaches for my wallet, I choose the cheap $5 Knights Tasting which included 4 wines. The bartender was very gung-ho about the wines and very interested in signing everyone up for the Ledson Wine Club. He was a nice kid and I had a great conversation with the couple next to me who were in town from Kansas…or Boston…or Florida….somewhere far away anyway. After the Knights Tasting, I realized that knights must drink strong wine and they probably learn to eat before they do.

About a mile down the road from Ledson is the Chateau St. Jean Winery. I was really excited about going to Chateau St. Jean as it was one of the few wineries where I’ve actually had their wine before (via the grocery store). The grounds here are lovely, with lots of places to sit out and have lunch and some wine. I got a bit confused with the sign at the entrance though, and ended up taking their $15 reserve wine tasting, rather than the $5 every day wine tasting. At the tasting, I had a brief conversation with a family from Long Beach. The wife was pregnant and therefore not drinking, but had a very longing look that said she wish she was. The weather was also getting very hot and the tasting room had all but one small fan. Because of this, the red wines weren’t going down very well but the higher alcohol content whites certainly were. I also had to eat or I wouldn’t be driving anywhere anytime soon. I bought a $6 chicken pesto sandwich (which was cold, soggy and awful) and sat out on the lawn.

From there I started driving more towards the hotel rather than away from it. The next place I stopped was horrible and I can’t remember the name nor did I take any pictures. I followed that up with St. Francis Winery which I thought was better than Chateau St. Jean in their wines. I bought two bottles at St. Francis and a bar of olive oil soap. Yeah, olive oil soap. I really wanted to walk around on their grounds for awhile, but it was getting late and I wanted to go to one last winery before I called it a day.

The last place I stopped at was Paradise Ridge which was a mile away from my hotel. This didn’t stop me from getting lost trying to find it. Paradise Ridge was by far my favorite of all the tastings. First of all, it was free. I was the only one there at first, so I got to know my bartender, Muhammad, really well. He had lived in Italy for 6 months and had just gotten back a few weeks ago. I told him how I thought everyone in Sonoma Country drives too slow and he complimented Newport Beach for being so bike friendly. He gave me a 15% discount on the two bottles of wine I bought and he wouldn’t let me tip him. I was leaving just as other people were showing up, which I was glad for. Everyone should go to Paradise Ridge if they’re in Santa Rosa.

Later on after resting awhile in my room, I had some dinner in downtown Santa Rosa at what appears to be one of only three restaurants there. For a college town it was odd to have so few options for eating out. The Mexican place I ate at was good but bland American-style Mexican food with lots of cheese. After dinner I walked around downtown but there wasn’t that much to see. I went back to the hotel but got depressed sitting in the dark handicap hotel room, so went to the hotel bar to read my book. The bar’s patio had big comfy sofas with a fireplace perfect for reading. I ended up getting in a conversation with the bartender, Elizabeth, and her friend, Seth, and stayed there a lot longer than I had anticipated. It was a lot of fun and a great end to the day. When I went to sleep that night, I turned the TV off.

Seth and Elizabeth

Travel Log DAY TWO

On 06/29/07 I started off on a 4 day holiday up to central\northern California. The following is the travel log from the trip, broken up into four chapters. The regular scheduled blog will be back in a couple weeks.

DAY TWO

I woke up at 7 AM Saturday morning. The electricity had gone out in the hotel the night before giving me a bit of the willies. That, coupled with the fact that the area of Salinas I was in would not be considered a nice part of town, got me motivated to shower and get out of the hotel room before 9:30. If Kevin had been with me, we would have been requesting a late checkout. We’re ALWAYS requesting a late checkout due to Kevin’s passion for sleep.

I consult the map before I go and decide to take Hwy 68 back to Monterey. While it’s a bit longer, I felt confident I wouldn’t get lost. I stopped at Starbucks for a coffee and a breakfast sandwich. I resolved then that I would never have a Low Fat Turkey Bacon, Cholesterol-free Egg and Reduced Fat Cheddar sandwich again. Fact of the matter is, some things in life need a bit of salt.


Cannery Row, Monterey

By 10:30 I was in line buying my tickets for the Monterey Aquarium. The line wasn’t too bad and I was roaming around looking at fishies in no time. Everyone had told me how great the Monterey Aquarium was compared against the Long Beach Aquarium. I have to disagree. Both are great in their own way. My personal favorites of the Monterey Aquarium were:

1. The Sardine Swim Circle located above eye level. Awesome. A bunch of sardines swimming around in a circle for what I can only imagine is their whole lives until they die. Swim sardines! Swim!
   
   
   
2. The feeding of the penguins. It took me by surprise to see two humans inside the penguin tank, one of them holding a penguin and petting it like I would pet my own cat under the chin. One of the penguins tried to make a break for it via the door they left open. Sneaky penguin.
   
   
   
3. The aviary.
   
   
   
4. ….and this guy.

The world according to Mr. Turtle.

I was done with the Aquarium around 12:30 PM. By the time I got out, there was a line of people out the door trying to get tickets. I got in my car and got on the 101 up to San Francisco. The drive from Monterey to San Francisco was boring, although I did stop at a Bennigans (to use their facilities, certainly not to eat) down the street from the Yahoo! Headquarters. I feel like I shouldn’t have been that excited about it, but I was.

In San Francisco, I stopped at Tommy’s Joint for lunch. You must always stop at Tommy’s Joint if you are in San Francisco. If you don’t, you’re doing yourself a great disservice. The turkey sandwich (carved straight from the bird) and mashed potatoes were delicious. I bought Kevin a couple t-shirts as he has worn his previous Tommy’s t-shirt thin and never mentioned to Kevin (until I got home) about it. He would have been crazy with jealousy. Tommy’s is just that good.

Tommy's Joint

Afterwards, I suffered the traffic and stopped at the last exit before crossing the Golden Gate Bridge just to take a picture. When I got off the Golden Gate Bridge I stopped again to take a picture from the other side.

From the 101, I took Hwy 37 to Hwy 121 to Hwy 12 and magically did not get lost. I had booked a hotel in Sonoma for the night via Priceline and was once again in awe at the deal I got. The Lodge was more of a spa resort than a hotel and was equipped with not only a bath robe, bath salts, high end shampoo and conditioners, but my own private balcony with French doors looking over the pool. Ahhhh.

I cleaned up a bit and headed downstairs to get on the shuttle to downtown. Since downtown is technically 4 whole blocks, they offered a free service to pick you up as well. The shuttle driver assumed I was with the other 3 groups in the van so when the last person got off and I was still sitting there he finally asked, “Where would you like to go?” He honestly had the look like I intended to stalk him all evening. I told him to just drop me off where there was good food that wasn’t at a fancy place. He opened the van door and pointed two buildings down to Mary’s Pizza Shack. Well, alright then.

At Mary’s Pizza Shack I ordered the Pesto Pasta and a half liter of the house red. I had my Steinbeck book and thought I would be there awhile. The same waitress who took my order brought over two glasses with the wine. I must have looked at her cross-eyed as she stopped in her tracks with the two glasses and said, “oh.” There was a lot of meaning behind that ‘oh’ but I took it in stride, had a great dinner and discovered what might just become one of my favorite books, “Travels with Charley”.

After dinner I walked around the 4 blocks that make up downtown Sonoma and finally stopped at a little Irish pub for a pint and some more reading. I’m assuming that because Sonoma has all of three pubs was the reason why this one was so packed. It was getting warm in there, so after my pint I had the shuttle pick me up, and then resigned to my room where I had a bath to beat all baths. I eventually called up Kevin and we ended up talking for over an hour, though of what about, I have no idea. I missed him. Wine country is definitely a place for couples. Later I fell asleep with the TV on.

Travel Log DAY ONE

On 06/29/07 I started off on a 4 day holiday up to central\northern California. The following is the travel log from the trip, broken up into four chapters. The regular scheduled blog will be back in a couple weeks.

DAY ONE

Kevin for once wakes up before I do. It’s Friday and he has to work. While I thankfully don’t, I do have things to do and places to be. Mainly I want to leave the house as early to avoid as much L.A. traffic as humanly possible. I let Kevin get ready first but he’s still running behind, not to mention we take way too long in saying goodbye. I’m only going to be gone for 4 days but we have to go over the drive-safes, don’t-have-too-much-fun-without-mes and call-me-a lot-so-I-know-your-safes. It’s sappy, sure, but we’re used to each other and we don’t normally go on trips alone anymore.

I’m finally on the road by 7 AM. I’m heading north on the 405 to meet up with the 101. L.A. is kind to me until I get to the 101 where it turns to bumper to bumper. 30 minutes it takes to get to the 101, once there, it takes me 2 hours to go 10 miles. I begin to stress as that’s what you’re suppose to do when sitting in traffic. I had no deadline or timeline but sitting there made me think that I did. I’m glad I don’t live in L.A.

By 9:30 I’m finally free of L.A. The 101 joins with Coast Hwy 1 and it’s beautiful. It’s a clear sunny day out and the ocean to the left of me is a color of blue I didn’t think there was outside of the Caribbean. I begin to relax and I begin to smile. The thought of the empty days ahead of me filled with what only I want to do is awesome.


View driving north on Hwy 101\1

When I reach San Luis Obispo, I stop to eat at a place called Mo’s BBQ solely for the fact that they were called Mo’s. As I walk in, a homeless man turns to me and says, “Don’t eat there, they’re terrible.” I ignore him, have a pulled pork sandwich and enjoy it immensely.

At San Luis Obispo, Hwy 101 and Coast Hwy 1 split into two. I take Coast Hwy 1 to Hearst Castle. The terrain starts to become long rolling hills instead of a straightaway path and the endless waves of grass are a tawny color due to the lack of rain.

I saw a couple zebras when I first drive past Hearst Castle. It’s quite literally cow cow zebra cow zebra zebra cow cow. It takes awhile for my brain to process that. It’s not that I haven’t seen a zebra before, it’s just odd seeing one so out of it’s natural environment. Of course, I’ve been to Tijuana before so my first thought is, “those aren’t those painted donkeys now, are they?”



I get my ticket for the Experience Tour 1. Standing in line for the bus I finally get my first sense of being alone on this trip. Everyone is with someone else. On the bus up I share a seat with a father who had his two kids in the seat in front of him. He didn’t talk except to scold his kids for sticking their arms out the window. If Kevin had been there I would have been burying my head in his shoulder when the bus went around the steep corners with no guard rails. Instead my knuckles go white squeezing the seat bar ahead of me. The views are amazing though and I try to concentrate on the overhead speaker telling us what type of foliage John Hearst decided to plant where.

The tour continues. No food, drink, and strangely, no gum. I take pictures and ignore my increasingly dry mouth. It’s hot up there. The first place they take us is the pool. I’m sure I am not the only one who is thinking about getting arrested just for the chance to jump in a wade around a bit. From the guide we learn that Mr. Hearst was a freakishly genius type of guy with expensive tastes and a sense of entitlement. Everything is beautiful and costs in today’s market a billion trillion gazillion dollars. We see the pools, the lounge, dining area, billiards room and the theater. My favorite part is the two pools. Maybe I’m still just hot and thirsty. On the bus ride down I get a seat to myself. I squeeze my eyes shut around the evil turns.

After the tour I head back north on Hwy 1 through Big Sur to get to Monterey. Although this stretch of highway is only 90 miles, the miles are carved through cliffs and drastic turns. It takes me close to 3 hours to do going no more than 40 mph at best. This stretch is awesome though long and I’m glad that I decided to go this way.

View from Coast Hwy 1 almost to Big Sur

I get lost in Monterey. There are three exits for Del Monte Blvd and I take the wrong one twice. I find my way to Cannery Row and stop to have dinner. The first place I try is a Hawaiian\Tiki themed restaurant. Walking in the hostess asked me if I’m meeting anyone, which I respond, “no”. She makes me wait at the bar anyway and it takes me 15 minutes to realize that she wasn’t listening to me at all. I know I look bad and smell bad from being on the road all day and the service wasn’t likely to improve. I finish up my fruity drink and leave. Disappointedly I have a cheeseburger at a chain restaurant but it’s oddly satisfying. I get lost again trying to get to Salinas where I’ll be staying the night. I drove too far and end up driving through Castroville, the artichoke capital of the world. A security guard at 7-11 gives me the directions that I need and I get to the America’s Best Value Inn by the Salinas airport at 9 PM. I’m exhausted, dirty, and a bit lonesome. I fall asleep with the TV on for white noise and light and I don’t bother to set the alarm.