Day 4: Let's make this more interesting than it was.

5/16/19

Things are starting to slip away. I'm now in the sweet spot of remembering the trip with fondness, and forgetting with frustration. Moments of the trip come to me quick and hit hard, then vanish in a moment, like driving a barbecue and catching it's smell for just a moment. Maybe this blog is better in retrospect, a way to look back with (re)fresh(ed) eyes and a full story to tell. Maybe I'm just making this all up to feel better about my laziness. Either way, there's much more to cover.

The last day in San Francisco arrived at a breakneck speed. I had just had my epiphany that the couch option far surpassed the air mattress, so waking up had a bittersweet and petty undertone. The night before we had made last-minute amendments to our travel plans, instead of booking it down the coast after a leisurely breakfast and a proper goodbye to the strange city by the bay, we decided to drive our host to her job and stick around to see the campus.

I'll come clean, my cousin does not work at Myspace. She works at Facebook. I don't know why I felt the need to hide that in the first place, maybe I just don't trust the Zuckernator (If you spell his name right, you're put on a list)

We said goodbye to Pat and made our way to the rent a car hub. Luckily for us, showing up early jogged something loose in the company's system and we got a free upgrade to a mini cooper. It was sleek and, well, black. That's all I know about cars. I did like driving it, though. Nice, uh, torque. Power steering. Rear view mirrors.

A quick hop skip and a jump (Just kidding we drove lol) and we were at the headquarters. After an appropriately paced security check, we began our tour of one of the most powerful companies in the world. When you see companies like this in the movies, there's a different vibe going on. Black suits, sunglasses, little devices that flash into your eyes and make you forget everything. Sad to say that neither Tommy Lee Jones nor any person resembling had a job here, and furthermore, everyone was a goddamn nerd. And not the cool movie nerd either! No cool gadgets, no holograms coming out from peoples belts, no tiny aliens hanging in the break room and roasting the new employees.

If this sounds like an indictment of tech culture in Silicon Valley, that's because it is.

Although the random employees with no obligation to entertain didn't give me the unattainable thrill I was seeking, the campus itself was very cool. There were plenty of restaurants (not open since we were there at 10) that Jean gave a 8.6 mean rating, mess halls that I give an 8.2 myself, and "micro-kitchens" with snack cubbies hosting a range of tastes and appetites. I regrettably forgot to take a bag, so instead I wrapped up all my stolen road-snacks in my jacket and proceeded with the tour. I will not give any details about these treats, since I now have a weird aversion to giving more free-marketing to any company other than Facebook, my overlord. All hail Mike Zufferburg.

I could talk about this college campus for adults all day, but frankly it went by so quickly that I already covered mostly everything. Do you really need more info to understand that it's a great place to work. No! You don't! As a matter of fact, I don't remember any more of the tour passed when Jean snuck us into a backroom titled "Secret Mission" and I was blasted with a bright light. Next thing I remember, Ashley and I were coasting down the coast.

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California is beautiful. Truly a marvel. The coastal drive delivered instantly, with views on both sides that flowed wonderfully from open spans of barren land to mountain ranges flushed with vibrant trees and flowers. Within two hours of our launching point we hit a town named "Santa Cruz." Santa Cruz was a shit show.

I'm exaggerating... a little bit.

There's nothing to hate about this little beach town, seemingly storing its lifeblood on a single boardwalk teeming with rides and games and fried food, but the charm was sapped away by looking at the rest of the town. The houses seemed lifeless, sun dried and flavorless, like a raisin made of rubber bands. The landscape was devoid of any nature, sand and dirt with a sprinkle of palm trees.

There's a reason that Google searching the city will return mostly pictures of the beach.

We grabbed lunch, I got a salad that surprisingly satisfied, then we made our way back to our car to continue the journey south. Ashley and I decided early that we made no obligation to any city, and a boardwalk with tall rides and flashy games just didn't spark our interest. We didn't come out here to experience a warmer Six Flags(1). We came to take pictures of nature. 

She's getting tired of these mid meal pictures.

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5/22/19

More time to forget the trip. Ah, the marvel of inadequate work ethic.

Anyway, we bounced from Santa Cruz and made our way to our first real destination, a place called Carmel by the Sea. Truth be told, we were told to go here, but we only agreed once we looked at pictures. It just looked so... rich. One glance at the buildings and their structural integrity and we knew that we wanted to spend time there pretending it was our home. With nothing planned except scoffing at those worse dressed than us, we made our way to the most expensive town-per-square-foot on our trip.

Surprisingly, given my preamble to the city and my general distaste for the bourgeoisie, we had a god time. We parked once and sauntered through the streets, enjoying the sights and smells and well kempt people. For every beautiful person who made us stop in our tracks, there was an equal and opposite frumpy tourist just around the corner to make us feel more socially adequate. I think that's what's referred to "Newtons law of attractiveness," but I didn't pay much attention to physics.

The food there was fine, nothing worth the first sentence on Carmel's Wikipedia page, but a fine meal on this trip is a great meal in our day-to-day, and we enjoyed it thoroughly. We came across a seafood restaurant and were lucky enough to land bar seats next to the window, allowing us more opportunities to gather data points the town's beauty balance levels. Instagram model, Midwest dad, L.A Tourist, South Bronx tourist, A pair of drop-dead gorgeous twins, a giant man who would gorge on those twins if they were to drop dead. People watching goes great with a plate of oysters and two rounds of beer, but we were careful not to drink too much and risk making those ugly people somehow hot. That just wouldn't do.

When the hotness ratio is off, drastic measures must be made

Getting semi-sauced at 4pm on a beautiful day in California, that's a vacation right there. Looking back at this point in time and I gotta say it was a peak moment of the trip; no obligations for the night, open plans to get to a sunset, and joyful exploration in a wonderful town with my loving partner. We stumbled onto a hidden passageway that lead to a strange gift shop. Not so strange in what they were selling, but rather that the goods were strewn about in three different rooms and the outdoor passageways in between. Also, nobody was there, our presence was accompanied only by the army of tiny buddha statues and the sound of electrically motored fountains. Everything was over $60, smelled like lavender and sage, and felt like it was injected with synthetic sentimentalism. I liked the atmosphere, but wished I could observe the locale interact with the goods. Being alone in this place was like going into Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, but instead of oompa loompas there were just signs showing how much the chocolate river cost in property tax.

Literally called a secret garden. With a giant sign.

We left without a single impulse buy, mostly because we were already scared to check our banking accounts and the trip was hardly half over. I then pulled out one of my few surprises on the trip: a coast through the 17-mile drive from Carmel to Monterey, where our hotel was that night. This not-quite-oceanside-view was, well, pretty damn fun, and it lead us through different areas ranging from forest greens to strips of mansions. Let me also put a disclaimer here that no, I was not drunk driving, I had two beers an hour before we drove. That should get my parents off my back, eh?

If this picture makes you uncomfortable, you should see my mid-road tweets.

Regardless of my inebriation, we had a pleasant time with the drive and ended up where we needed to be, Monterey. Fast forward to our dinner, it was great. Fast forward to the hotel, it was surprisingly affordable. I dare not comment on how me and mine spent our night betwixt its sultry walls.

We watched The Office on cable tv and fell asleep.



(1) For Pete Ward, Six Flags is a theme park with 16 locations across the U.S. It's generally a rippah good time


Photo dump

Ok now she really hates it

Day 3: Where Did The Time Go?!?!

Ok, I get it now. I definitely understand the appeal of San Francisco. Just in time to leave.

Even now, in yet another uber on the way to our car rental, I'm feeling a bit sad to go. After the initial shock and awe that downtown SF offers, the lovely tapestry of wandering misanthropes and cutting edge outdoor marketing, I quickly began to love the place. I keep making comparisons to New York, yet this type of analysis is helpful only to other New Yorkers, and it's hardly nuanced or accurate since I've yet to actually live it the city myself. San Fran feels more like Boston, at least in the sections I've seen. I had a lot of sea food the past few days, so Boston it is.

Theres a part of me that's incredibly satisfied by this kind of travel. I've never been on vacation with Ashley before, and that's made all the difference in terms of immersion and mindfulness. I take more pictures, since I have someone to take pictures with. I care less about eating healthy, since if I gain weight she will have a harder time noticing since she'll watch it in real time. All of this points to another trip, sooner than later I'm sure, and with Ashmaster firmly by my side.

Our amazing hosts cousin Jean from Myspace and Pat from Advertisements had work today, so Trashley and I had a whole day to fill solo. We started off in the Modern Arts Museum, a classy yet approachable museum that absolutely screamed San Francisco culture. Theres a thickly coated trope that goes along with "Modern Art", so if you're imagining a one inch red circle taking up an entire floor, or an exhibit that's literally a water fountain, or performance art where a woman dresses up like adecapitated Giraffe while 8-year old children throw VHS tapes at her, then know that you're only half right. It was abstract and artsy, sure, but it wasn't as outside my cultural comfort zone that I thought it would be. What I was expecting was a Human heart impaled with juul pods, and all I got was art made in the modern era. Go figure.

It was all worth it for this picture

We had to cut that trip a little short, though, since we had a place called Sausalito firmly on our agenda. This town is 30 minutes by ferry, and it's always summer over there. Micro climates are seriously, (seriously!) pretty trippy. This town is tucked away across the something river, and it's apparently harboring some sort of Fire spirit since its gorgeous and 10 degrees warmer than the city itself. I love little towns like this. Touristy as hell, no doubt. Pricey too.

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This is where I was cut off. I didn't have the time nor the energy to finish this project on the road, and as soon as I got back home I was struck with a cheeky little cold for about a week. I'm writing this now Tuesday 5/7, a week and two days after returning home. I'm going to have to go by memory from here on out.

Anyway, Sausalito. Nice town to saunter, for sure. With a fresh springtime sun and a cool breeze from the ocean, Ashley and I made our way a quarter mile down the main street before finding a simple restaurant for lunch. We could have explored more but we were starving, and what better way to understand a culture than to get food 300 feet from the central hub. Either way, it was delicious, and while we ate we had a great view of the bay. Although we were plenty active, we took the opportunity to settle into our seats and properly enjoy our meal. "This is nice" we both thought simultaneously. Or maybe she wasn't thinking that, I don't know.

Not seen: Hanger claws retracting into her fingers

After our meal we returned to the main street for some casual shopping with the intent on buying our hosts a gift. We entered an eccentric (By San Francisco standards, too) antique store. Century-old books lined the floor and strange figurines stood eye-level all across the store, meeting our eyes at every corner with a sort of silent, ancient sales pitch. "Buy me!" They seemed to say. "Please murder me" could also be interpreted.

This store had a no picture policy, by which I dutifully abode, and when we entered the woman at the front desk broke out into a well-rehearsed pitch. "Hello Friends! Welcome to Jessica's! We are currently having our largest sale ever, with everything being 50% off. Take a look at our books, as some of them date back to the fifteen hundreds!"

This was shouted throughout the store, whether or not you were two feet in front of her or not. Once again I was mentally transported to New York City, hearing the robotic voice of the Subway woman telling me which stop came next. For a brief moment, and I'm not proud to admit this, but I was filled with rage towards this woman. I do not know why, and it didn't last long, but something about the sales pitch turned me off tremendously. Maybe it was she said the exact same thing three times while I was in the store. Maybe it was what followed the "fifteen hundreds" part, where she told us "Some books are from the sixteen hundreds, some are from the seventeen hundreds, a few are from the eighteen hundreds. They are very old books!"

I ended up buying a book. She tried to sell me stickers. The rage boiled up again, and we left without saying thank you. Ok, we said thank you, but I didn't say Thank you very much. Hella burn, robot woman.

Oh shit, we're smiling! Go us!

We made our way back to the ferry where a tourist from New Zealand waited with us and sparked up conversation. After some small talk, he bucked up the courage to ask me about how I feel about our president. In hushed tones I revealed my liberal leanings, adding a few extra layers of doubt and neutrality so as to not accidentally arouse anyone else in line. In retrospect, it was a pretty safe place to talk about these things, but you can never be sure. This Kiwi man seemed fascinated with American politics, and through me he was able to understand our culture just a little bit more. I asked about his countries politics, and as soon as he started speaking I realized how much more boring it was than ours. I spaced out and started thinking about how much I hated that store clerk from before. I came to when he asked for a "Pin" but really he said "Pen" and we laughed and laughed at his silly and wrong way of saying things. I regret not getting a picture with this man.

We returned to the big city and walked around near the dock, gently browsing the stores near our arrival. Ashley spotted oysters, lo and behold they were all from Long Island. Great, we'll have some. How fun it is to buy things that remind us of home!

Some things in life are so precious that we must not share them with the world. This is not one of those things.

We also found a little pottery/ceramics store that sold these beautiful bowls and plates. They were over $60 each. Once the price was checked, we sheepishly left the area, checked our Chase bank apps, and frowned in silence. Looks like we're gonna have to stick to our normal plates like a couple of non-tech industry losers.

We picked up our poor spirits by buying a cheap beer. We had a half hour to kill before meeting up with Myspace Jean for a drink at a hot restaurant called Pabu for Happy Hour. Boy oh boy, that was a happy hour indeed. We went crazy on appetizers, drinks, and uh.. that's it. But they were delicious and reasonable priced.

Right here is where I wish I took better notes, cause even though I remember the atmosphere and the fact that I had fun, I couldn't tell you what we spoke about. Not a single conversation, no jokes, nothing. Maybe it was the drinks (Narrator voice: it was) but there's something sad about looking back at a special time with people close to us and not having anything to trigger the memory besides how many hand rolls we ordered. Eight, by the way. We ordered eight hand rolls.

Straight from happy hour we crossed off a typical tourist activity, riding the cable car. It was surprisingly fun, but as I watched the standing operator use his whole body to pull the break lever, I had to wonder why they still existed. It was faster than walking, sure, but could this really be the best way to get around? Is it energy efficient? How much do the people running it get paid? How many people commute on these daily? The open-windowed-public-transit-of-the-past seemed to draw in enough people, and by the time we reached our stop I stopped caring all that much and instead took in the views of the city. What a place.

Afterwards we ubered out to a place called "Twin Peaks" for a crazy view. Also crazy was the wind blasting us from all sides, and before we could catch a proper sunset we had become fatigued and chilled by the onslaught of this micro-climate's aggression. As a way to compensate for our early departure, we decided to walk down the windy road down to our last destination of the night, a Chinese restaurant near our host's house. We ate well with our hosts, put back a few more beers, and called it a night.



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5/14 now. I really gotta get a move on here.

Sorry Pete Ward, I'll talk about your grand kids soon enough!

Photo dump: