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Having realized that all things must come to an end and unable to spend another day in nature without my allergies getting the best of me, I decided to return south, far from the land of trees, grasses and bugs. Yes there are bugs. The lack of mention of horrific encounters with these biting, disease laden, flying, ubiquitous creatures is completely based on the fact that I used this amazing substance called Max-Off or something to the max. Basically I was as bug proof as I could get without my skin melting or instantly becoming a bio hazard.
Mock me if you'd like, but I'm not the one with a bug bite behind my knee or between my fingers. Thank you EPA for letting some company create this toxic substance so strong that when I sprayed it on me outside, the swarm of bugs went flying the opposite way and I was immersed in an aura of chemical purity. I couldn't be happier.
So I left the redwoods. It was lovely. I met a lot of people that I'll never see again. And as much as I loved everything about it, I don't think I'll make it back there. At least not in this lifetime. It was beautiful and I'd love to see these trees again, but Mother Nature, I am allergic to you. I'll try most anything once, but I won't suffer twice.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
It's. . . WHAT?!?!
Yes. It was persistent. Annoying. Unending.
A trip down to the front desk and polite descriptions about a smell that I swear was similar to cat pee gave us a free upgrade to a Terrace King Room. Beautiful views, a bed that could literally fit a mini-circus and a terrace to watching a sinking sun.
I suppose I could leave it at that, but that would deprive of you of my next experience and misery loves company. As a porter grabbed our suitcase, we asked him if he noticed the odor or whether it was our addled brains. His response? "Do you really want to know or just not sort of want to know?" Now, I ask. Who picks choice B to a question like that and LIVES with it?
So we picked Choice A. And the answer? Bat Pee. Yes. Apparently in the attic of this historic inn, the corner that's right above Room 310 (where we stayed at) is where the bats pee. And on hot summer days, the smell wafts down to only that room. Interesting eh? They didn't include that in the brochure and it does seem weird that the staff, being aware of the problem, continued to put people in that room. Either way, it did give a nice upgrade where I watched the Olympics ad nausea. There was no question that we were taking the champagne bottle with us for the pains I suffered regardless of the complimentary sherry that existed in the rooms.
Oh the champagne? It was for a couple celebrating their 5th anniversary and the staff wanted to wish them congratulations. To the couple who never received it, Thank You again, it was a lovely bottle. To the staff, Thank You, it was a lovely bottle and eased me out of the bat pee situation, about 2 glasses in.
A trip down to the front desk and polite descriptions about a smell that I swear was similar to cat pee gave us a free upgrade to a Terrace King Room. Beautiful views, a bed that could literally fit a mini-circus and a terrace to watching a sinking sun.
I suppose I could leave it at that, but that would deprive of you of my next experience and misery loves company. As a porter grabbed our suitcase, we asked him if he noticed the odor or whether it was our addled brains. His response? "Do you really want to know or just not sort of want to know?" Now, I ask. Who picks choice B to a question like that and LIVES with it?
So we picked Choice A. And the answer? Bat Pee. Yes. Apparently in the attic of this historic inn, the corner that's right above Room 310 (where we stayed at) is where the bats pee. And on hot summer days, the smell wafts down to only that room. Interesting eh? They didn't include that in the brochure and it does seem weird that the staff, being aware of the problem, continued to put people in that room. Either way, it did give a nice upgrade where I watched the Olympics ad nausea. There was no question that we were taking the champagne bottle with us for the pains I suffered regardless of the complimentary sherry that existed in the rooms.
Oh the champagne? It was for a couple celebrating their 5th anniversary and the staff wanted to wish them congratulations. To the couple who never received it, Thank You again, it was a lovely bottle. To the staff, Thank You, it was a lovely bottle and eased me out of the bat pee situation, about 2 glasses in.
Monday, August 25, 2008
What's that smell?
A few days immersed in this nature, I was done. My allergies weren't subsiding and the only thing that kept me from finishing the medication was that I had to drive south on really bendy roads. Proof that the GPS still needs a few technology tweaks? I was coasting down 101 and after the initial instruction to drive 40 miles to your destination, was glad that I'd start to see civilization.
Right. Who was I kidding? Like I hadn't learned that my entire vacation was going to be full of mini-adventures? 20 minutes later, down a very windy path through the forest, the GPS instructed me to "turn right." Yes. Thank you Ms. GPS for leading me off a cliff into a ravine, maybe even the Pacific and most likely my death, sealing my eternal future life to be at one with my car rental, which by the way, was labeled as "tan." It's not. It's Olive-Puce-Green. Named (affectionately) as Olivia throughout the trip so she wouldn't feel neglect and cause problems.
At Garberville, we checked into Benbow Inn and were given our room. There was a strange smell in the foyer of the room and we couldn't figure out what it was. This is one of the few failings of the internet. No Scratch n Sniff. No scent in a bottle. It was just offensive, but the fact that we weren't in a room decorated with stuffed bears and scenes of the north pole, just kept us from assessing the situation. Rather than sticking around, we placed the lavender we couldn't stop buying from Matanzas Creek Winery around the room and decided to take a drive to a nearby winery. On our way out, we ran into the porter who was entering our room to give us a bottle of chilled rose champagne. I know I didn't order it. But as we couldn't stand the smell of the room, we just rushed out of the inn in hopes that it would get better later.
I've never tasted wine from a box or bottle, and I'm not sure if I ever will. But I do know one thing's for certain, this weird concoction of Firehouse Red comes as close to wine in a box as I can imagine. Thanks for letting us keep the glass, but we walked away with no wine. The largest stores in this tiny town included one that sold chain saw bear carvings and another that sold tie-dye tshirts. I don't know who actually buys them, but I do know that the townsfolk wear them proudly, enough to cause holes in places where you do not want to see holes. Want to know where your summer camp tie-dye tshirts went to die? Right here in Myers Flat.
At the inn, the smell persisted. And I noticed it even while suffering severe allergies and my "collapsed lung." It's moments like these when I realize that there are some places that I cannot spend the rest of my life at. Northern California, is quickly becoming one of them.
Right. Who was I kidding? Like I hadn't learned that my entire vacation was going to be full of mini-adventures? 20 minutes later, down a very windy path through the forest, the GPS instructed me to "turn right." Yes. Thank you Ms. GPS for leading me off a cliff into a ravine, maybe even the Pacific and most likely my death, sealing my eternal future life to be at one with my car rental, which by the way, was labeled as "tan." It's not. It's Olive-Puce-Green. Named (affectionately) as Olivia throughout the trip so she wouldn't feel neglect and cause problems.
At Garberville, we checked into Benbow Inn and were given our room. There was a strange smell in the foyer of the room and we couldn't figure out what it was. This is one of the few failings of the internet. No Scratch n Sniff. No scent in a bottle. It was just offensive, but the fact that we weren't in a room decorated with stuffed bears and scenes of the north pole, just kept us from assessing the situation. Rather than sticking around, we placed the lavender we couldn't stop buying from Matanzas Creek Winery around the room and decided to take a drive to a nearby winery. On our way out, we ran into the porter who was entering our room to give us a bottle of chilled rose champagne. I know I didn't order it. But as we couldn't stand the smell of the room, we just rushed out of the inn in hopes that it would get better later.
I've never tasted wine from a box or bottle, and I'm not sure if I ever will. But I do know one thing's for certain, this weird concoction of Firehouse Red comes as close to wine in a box as I can imagine. Thanks for letting us keep the glass, but we walked away with no wine. The largest stores in this tiny town included one that sold chain saw bear carvings and another that sold tie-dye tshirts. I don't know who actually buys them, but I do know that the townsfolk wear them proudly, enough to cause holes in places where you do not want to see holes. Want to know where your summer camp tie-dye tshirts went to die? Right here in Myers Flat.
At the inn, the smell persisted. And I noticed it even while suffering severe allergies and my "collapsed lung." It's moments like these when I realize that there are some places that I cannot spend the rest of my life at. Northern California, is quickly becoming one of them.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Lost City
Headed south to . . .
Ferndale. The forgotton Victorian Village.
And in case you didn't pick up on that from the hundreds of brochures located at every tourist stop/B&B north of Mendocino, the long drive from the 101 westward to the coast serves as a reminder.
Hills start becoming flat into fields. Forests turn into pastures of grass, small herds of cows appear regularly and then a series of houses, letting you know that you've arrived if you missed the huge Welcome Sign for the county fair. So I did was every good tourist does, park the car and walk around Ferndale. Yes there were Victorian Houses. Candy colored and small. However, the shops were quite interesting considering they had quite an artistic flair. The drama going around town at the moment was the possibility of it becoming (or a city near it) a port for cruise ships to Alaska. This brought the age old debate, "we'll have a bunch of tourists coming in, revive the town vs. we'll have a bunch of tourists that will kill the small town charm."
I had no say, I bought some jewelry and then discovered the amazing Blackberry Pie at Wild Blackberry Cafe. It was so amazing, that it did not even need the whip cream and I feel that I would cheat the experience if I ever tried a slice anywhere else again. So drop by if you ever are in the area and don't know what to do. I also discovered then that Humboldt County is the Pot capital of the world which would explain that when I went to Foggy Bottoms Yarn, a bunch of knitting tourists were disgruntled that the store was scheduled to open at noon and well it was a quarter to 1.
After a failed attempt to the county fair- when people start to stare at you driving up to the gate, it's best just to turn around and pretend you didn't want to go inside in the first place, I returned to the Yarn store. Much to my surprise, she was there, about an hour and a half later after she had promised to open. Also as it turns out, people in this small town are really honest. We entered the store and I assumed the proprietor was in the back. No. She was across the street at the Post Office returning to the store. Talk about trust. And lack of willpower as I left with some amazing Plymouth Llama Silk Yarn and some varigated green gift yarn for a friend.
Ferndale. The forgotton Victorian Village.
And in case you didn't pick up on that from the hundreds of brochures located at every tourist stop/B&B north of Mendocino, the long drive from the 101 westward to the coast serves as a reminder.
Hills start becoming flat into fields. Forests turn into pastures of grass, small herds of cows appear regularly and then a series of houses, letting you know that you've arrived if you missed the huge Welcome Sign for the county fair. So I did was every good tourist does, park the car and walk around Ferndale. Yes there were Victorian Houses. Candy colored and small. However, the shops were quite interesting considering they had quite an artistic flair. The drama going around town at the moment was the possibility of it becoming (or a city near it) a port for cruise ships to Alaska. This brought the age old debate, "we'll have a bunch of tourists coming in, revive the town vs. we'll have a bunch of tourists that will kill the small town charm."
I had no say, I bought some jewelry and then discovered the amazing Blackberry Pie at Wild Blackberry Cafe. It was so amazing, that it did not even need the whip cream and I feel that I would cheat the experience if I ever tried a slice anywhere else again. So drop by if you ever are in the area and don't know what to do. I also discovered then that Humboldt County is the Pot capital of the world which would explain that when I went to Foggy Bottoms Yarn, a bunch of knitting tourists were disgruntled that the store was scheduled to open at noon and well it was a quarter to 1.
After a failed attempt to the county fair- when people start to stare at you driving up to the gate, it's best just to turn around and pretend you didn't want to go inside in the first place, I returned to the Yarn store. Much to my surprise, she was there, about an hour and a half later after she had promised to open. Also as it turns out, people in this small town are really honest. We entered the store and I assumed the proprietor was in the back. No. She was across the street at the Post Office returning to the store. Talk about trust. And lack of willpower as I left with some amazing Plymouth Llama Silk Yarn and some varigated green gift yarn for a friend.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Allergic to Nature
I know. It sounds silly. Can you imagine conversations?
"Oh, so you're allergic to shellfish? And mildew? Well, I'm allergic to nature."
Exactly. But I've realized that I will think twice about denouncing big, old corporate
At about half past 9 on my second night, I felt one of my lungs collapsing (the drama, I know) and went immediately to Target which was located a fast 30 minute drive away, and supposed to close at 10 pm. Honestly, I think I was ready to break down the door if they closed on me, but we made it with 10 minutes to spare. It is moments like these where I welcome corporate America with welcome arms and appreciate the amenities found in the city that I've taken for granted. Like 24 hour drugstores. Drugstores on every corner. A pharmacy on every other corner. You get my drift. Several allergy medications later, I drifted into sleep and realized the next morning that I was clearly allergic to nature. Excellent work. Unfortunately, I was also nowhere near non country for hundreds of miles and so we left Arcata and headed south.
If I had my way, I'd tell the world that I was allergic to nature, dirt, grass, redwoods, all forms of conifers and all forms of greenery that hadn't been pre-planned by an urban architect. As it turns out I'm not entirely offbase with that comment. I found out a week later that one of my friends is allergic to all conifers and grasses. Being allergic to nature? Completely normal.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Where's the s'mores?
For those that like road trips, I recommend Klamath. Especially if you're in Humboldt County.
It's about an hour drive north of Arcata and has two amazing sights: the Paul Bunyan Sky trail and the Jet ski Boat tour. If you walk quickly past the tall statue of Paul Bunyan and Babe, his blue ox, you probably can easily avoid the interaction with the guy who they have do the voice. He tries to engage everyone's attention and yes, on top of the Mr. Green Jellybean moment, I too, made a small mistake by looking up at the statue, no doubt being caught on their video feed and he too make an innocent pass at me. "Excuse me, you there in the black coat, where are you rushing off to? Where are you from?" I quickly replied New York and ran into the gift shop. All those that want to talk to a statue? He's waiting in Klamath.
The hike itself was relatively short but they did have some interesting facts and close-ups with redwoods. When we make mistakes, we're expected to apologize. When Nature goofs up, it becomes an episode of Ripley's Believe It or Not or becomes a popular place to hold weddings. The sky tram was worth the ticket of admission as you got an aerial view of these trees leading to some amazing pictures at the top of the observation desk. 5 minutes later, we found the Jet Ski Boat Tour Dock.
As we got off to a start in an old Coast Guard boat, we noticed a bunch of sea lions and harbor seals. Not exactly the most interesting thing as I've seen them in Catalina, the Bronx Zoo and at Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. However, 20 minutes later, we came across a black bear and her cub foraging for food. I think the driver was more enamored with the sight than any of us were which gave all of us the chance to take a lot of pictures. Soon enough there was this smoky smell, like a campfire that wafted down the river. It was rather familiar as during our drive through Humboldt, we smelled it several times. All I could think of was, must be a nice campfire, hope someone brought s'mores. The truth? Thousands of old redwood trees had been burning in Northern California for 1-2 months. This is what happens when you go on vacation- you forget to check the news.
The tour was quite informative and interesting, detailing the history of the Klamath River and taking us to see campsites that can only be reached by boat. Yes. That's it. People here seem to camp for fun and do it in places where they have to bring all their supplies with them or get this boat company to bring it to them. The first observation? Campers are very messy. Litter everywhere. The second? They are very friendly and love to wave. The trip is without a doubt, quite fun and involved getting a little wet through the fast 360 turns.
And please. Listen to him. When he makes that spin, hold onto something or someone. I figured I could escape Newton's Law and ended up sliding about 5 inches to my left, luckily holding onto the person next to avoid hitting the couple to my left. How did I end up in Klamath? Tourist Brochures. Sometimes, it pays to go to tourist centers and grab a few papers along the way. Now, if only one of the campers would've made us some s'mores . . .
It's about an hour drive north of Arcata and has two amazing sights: the Paul Bunyan Sky trail and the Jet ski Boat tour. If you walk quickly past the tall statue of Paul Bunyan and Babe, his blue ox, you probably can easily avoid the interaction with the guy who they have do the voice. He tries to engage everyone's attention and yes, on top of the Mr. Green Jellybean moment, I too, made a small mistake by looking up at the statue, no doubt being caught on their video feed and he too make an innocent pass at me. "Excuse me, you there in the black coat, where are you rushing off to? Where are you from?" I quickly replied New York and ran into the gift shop. All those that want to talk to a statue? He's waiting in Klamath.
The hike itself was relatively short but they did have some interesting facts and close-ups with redwoods. When we make mistakes, we're expected to apologize. When Nature goofs up, it becomes an episode of Ripley's Believe It or Not or becomes a popular place to hold weddings. The sky tram was worth the ticket of admission as you got an aerial view of these trees leading to some amazing pictures at the top of the observation desk. 5 minutes later, we found the Jet Ski Boat Tour Dock.
As we got off to a start in an old Coast Guard boat, we noticed a bunch of sea lions and harbor seals. Not exactly the most interesting thing as I've seen them in Catalina, the Bronx Zoo and at Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. However, 20 minutes later, we came across a black bear and her cub foraging for food. I think the driver was more enamored with the sight than any of us were which gave all of us the chance to take a lot of pictures. Soon enough there was this smoky smell, like a campfire that wafted down the river. It was rather familiar as during our drive through Humboldt, we smelled it several times. All I could think of was, must be a nice campfire, hope someone brought s'mores. The truth? Thousands of old redwood trees had been burning in Northern California for 1-2 months. This is what happens when you go on vacation- you forget to check the news.
The tour was quite informative and interesting, detailing the history of the Klamath River and taking us to see campsites that can only be reached by boat. Yes. That's it. People here seem to camp for fun and do it in places where they have to bring all their supplies with them or get this boat company to bring it to them. The first observation? Campers are very messy. Litter everywhere. The second? They are very friendly and love to wave. The trip is without a doubt, quite fun and involved getting a little wet through the fast 360 turns.
And please. Listen to him. When he makes that spin, hold onto something or someone. I figured I could escape Newton's Law and ended up sliding about 5 inches to my left, luckily holding onto the person next to avoid hitting the couple to my left. How did I end up in Klamath? Tourist Brochures. Sometimes, it pays to go to tourist centers and grab a few papers along the way. Now, if only one of the campers would've made us some s'mores . . .
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The Appropriate Response
About 5 hours north of Santa Rosa, past Mendocino County, you come across some of the most majestic trees that you can't even fathom its existence until you actually stand next to it. It wasn't the age of the tree that's surprising, which for many of them are well into the hundreds and some past the thousand mark, it's actually the height itself and the diameter of its trunk. Humboldt County had many charms- the vintage, yarn store- Shipwrecked was a great place to score some amazing Makalu 100% bamboo yarn and a great summer bag for the low price of $8(!!!!), the Sea Grill which had the best non gamey duck in a bing cherry port reduction sauce (and I don't even like duck!), the sheer ubiquity of chainsaw carvings and of course, the redwood tree.
I often make stops at various tourist sites to look at the available brochures. Some of them can be great diversions and others can lead to the great Hot Air Balloon crash landing at New Mexico in 2007, or Loleta Cheese Factory- a simple viewing window into the process of making cheese along with a ton of free samples and the Eureka Zoo. The zoo had free admission and that wasn't too surprising as there were very few exhibits. Irony at its best with flamingos flocking around an evergreen.
The highlight of the zoo was the black bear, indigenous to Northern California (as I later found out). As it walked forlornly away from its visitors, I whistled and clicked my teeth, causing the bear to turn around and walk toward me. After a few nods, it turned around and seemingly tried to get me to follow him (her?) to behind the tree. As it turns out, it doesn't like flash cameras, then again if I was penned up, I'm sure I wouldn't be happy with a dozen people clicking away at me either. A few more follow me attempts by the bear brought the following quandry. What exactly is the best response? I'm pretty sure that anyone following that bear would soon be its dinner or at least mildly bloody from "play fighting."
The zoo? A bit of a miss. Turns out, you can't always listen to those brochures.
I often make stops at various tourist sites to look at the available brochures. Some of them can be great diversions and others can lead to the great Hot Air Balloon crash landing at New Mexico in 2007, or Loleta Cheese Factory- a simple viewing window into the process of making cheese along with a ton of free samples and the Eureka Zoo. The zoo had free admission and that wasn't too surprising as there were very few exhibits. Irony at its best with flamingos flocking around an evergreen.
The highlight of the zoo was the black bear, indigenous to Northern California (as I later found out). As it walked forlornly away from its visitors, I whistled and clicked my teeth, causing the bear to turn around and walk toward me. After a few nods, it turned around and seemingly tried to get me to follow him (her?) to behind the tree. As it turns out, it doesn't like flash cameras, then again if I was penned up, I'm sure I wouldn't be happy with a dozen people clicking away at me either. A few more follow me attempts by the bear brought the following quandry. What exactly is the best response? I'm pretty sure that anyone following that bear would soon be its dinner or at least mildly bloody from "play fighting."
The zoo? A bit of a miss. Turns out, you can't always listen to those brochures.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Because Fate's got your back
From what I can tell, Fairfield, CA has really only 1 great thing going for it. It is the home of the Jelly Belly Jellybean Factory. I don't even really like jellybeans and on top of that I like about 3 flavors. Yet there I was again, for the second time in my life, taking a factory tour, wearing a silly hat, and going through the place. It is like the Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory, but for Jelly beans. It's worth a visit if you're in the area and it's barely an hour drive from San Francisco. While I was trying to get some jelly beans for a friend in a certain flavor, I noticed that children were flocking to the fluffy, life-sized Mr. Green Jellybean.
Now I apologize in advance for not having a photo of Mr Green, but I was trying to operate those candy dispensers by myself without being the person that accidentally spills all the jellybeans on the floor and therefore couldn't get to my camera. However, fate decided to ensure the memory of meeting this plush doll as he made his way to me, unbeknownst to me. Just as I got the candy dispenser to start spilling candy into an long plastic bag, I felt a thickly, padded hand tap my shoulder. I turn around slowly and there was Mr. Green Jellybean, waving at me. I looked around for the children to save me and as there were none, I awkwardly waved back and we each went our merry way. How many people can say that they've been hit on by an overstuffed Jellybean in their lives? I didn't think so.
Wine tasting is one of those moments that's really difficult to truly describe as everyone has different takes on the wines and the experience in general. However, there was one defining moment where my faith in fate was renewed once again. As we were experiencing barrel tasting at Del Dotto Vineyards, the question of who would drive to the next vineyard arose leading to the tour guide asking if we were going to rock-paper-scissor it. The verdict led to more drinking and the discovery that I still do not enjoy port. And that some nerds (I will not disclose where) play atomic bomb, cockroach, foot instead of the conventional rock-paper-scissors.
The cockroach survives the atomic bomb which defeats the foot which defeats the roach. Clever? Maybe. Nerdy? Most definitely.
Afterwards, as we approached the car, we realized that a huge truck got stuck in the driveway, cutting us off from our car. As the various workers and truck driver tried to map out a way to leave the driveway, we ended up waiting ourselves into sobriety. By the time the truck was out of the way, we were on our way to explore more vineyards in Napa. Sometimes when you least expect it, Fate has a way of looking out for you.
Now I apologize in advance for not having a photo of Mr Green, but I was trying to operate those candy dispensers by myself without being the person that accidentally spills all the jellybeans on the floor and therefore couldn't get to my camera. However, fate decided to ensure the memory of meeting this plush doll as he made his way to me, unbeknownst to me. Just as I got the candy dispenser to start spilling candy into an long plastic bag, I felt a thickly, padded hand tap my shoulder. I turn around slowly and there was Mr. Green Jellybean, waving at me. I looked around for the children to save me and as there were none, I awkwardly waved back and we each went our merry way. How many people can say that they've been hit on by an overstuffed Jellybean in their lives? I didn't think so.
Wine tasting is one of those moments that's really difficult to truly describe as everyone has different takes on the wines and the experience in general. However, there was one defining moment where my faith in fate was renewed once again. As we were experiencing barrel tasting at Del Dotto Vineyards, the question of who would drive to the next vineyard arose leading to the tour guide asking if we were going to rock-paper-scissor it. The verdict led to more drinking and the discovery that I still do not enjoy port. And that some nerds (I will not disclose where) play atomic bomb, cockroach, foot instead of the conventional rock-paper-scissors.
The cockroach survives the atomic bomb which defeats the foot which defeats the roach. Clever? Maybe. Nerdy? Most definitely.
Afterwards, as we approached the car, we realized that a huge truck got stuck in the driveway, cutting us off from our car. As the various workers and truck driver tried to map out a way to leave the driveway, we ended up waiting ourselves into sobriety. By the time the truck was out of the way, we were on our way to explore more vineyards in Napa. Sometimes when you least expect it, Fate has a way of looking out for you.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
The $6 Cure.
San Francisco wasn't without its charms and in comparison to NYC, was quite hippy. First of all, I love tea, not as much as I love coffee, but I'm ok with ordering tea. However, tea houses that refuse to serve any coffee, even a simple house blend, is just . . . asking to be ridiculed. After all, most coffeehouses serve tea, even if it is Lipton, from a bag . . . bought in the 80s.
But I digress. The first stop was San Jose to visit Sarah Winchester's Mystery House. Aside from the fact that Sarah Winchester was a petite woman of about 4'10", the entire house was surrounded with terrible karma. A severe case of bad juju. There were windows on the floor, doors that opened to walls and cabinets that ranged from 1/4" inch thick to the size of a room- all under one roof. The story goes that after a visit with a psychic, she had to spend her life building as penance for the lives taken by the winchester rifle. What was left was a house with tiny doorways, stairs that were no more than 1/2" inch tall to accommodate her arthritis and lots of idiosyncrasies.
Apparently not having enough of bad ghostly vibes, I continued onward to visit Alcatraz, complete with audio tour guide. Surprisingly the tour was quite interesting complemented with a variety of soundtracks and if you followed the instructions carefully, you'd be able to get to each checkpoint without having to pause the guide. I, on the other hand, had to do a lot of back tracking and searching half the time. The view of San Francisco Bay was amazing as the weather was sunny and clear. The only better view of the city was at Treasure Island. Just avoid the military checkpoint and all will be ok.
It wasn't until later, after a rush stop at ImagiKnits where I found two amazing skeins of JaggerSpun in a beautiful Sage color was I going to be introduced to the $6 elixir. The store was closed but as the owner was hosting a class in a few minutes, allowed me to look around quickly and buy some yarn that I truly fell in love with while doing a scarf project.
Purchases in hand, we headed to Samovar Tea Lounge where this amazing $6 post-yoga adaptogenic drink promised to refresh me, revive my tired spirits, quench my thirst, clarify my skin, enhance my beauty, increase sexual prowess AND adapt itself to my body's needs. At $6, I'd of been happy if it did at least 1 out of the list. It had a light citrusy taste and while I didn't feel like I had reached another cosmic level, maybe I was expecting too much for $6. Still if you're looking for answers to some random questions in life, I suggest this tea. Compared to the rates of psychiatrists, excluding Lucy van Pelt, this is a much easier pill to swallow.
But I digress. The first stop was San Jose to visit Sarah Winchester's Mystery House. Aside from the fact that Sarah Winchester was a petite woman of about 4'10", the entire house was surrounded with terrible karma. A severe case of bad juju. There were windows on the floor, doors that opened to walls and cabinets that ranged from 1/4" inch thick to the size of a room- all under one roof. The story goes that after a visit with a psychic, she had to spend her life building as penance for the lives taken by the winchester rifle. What was left was a house with tiny doorways, stairs that were no more than 1/2" inch tall to accommodate her arthritis and lots of idiosyncrasies.
Apparently not having enough of bad ghostly vibes, I continued onward to visit Alcatraz, complete with audio tour guide. Surprisingly the tour was quite interesting complemented with a variety of soundtracks and if you followed the instructions carefully, you'd be able to get to each checkpoint without having to pause the guide. I, on the other hand, had to do a lot of back tracking and searching half the time. The view of San Francisco Bay was amazing as the weather was sunny and clear. The only better view of the city was at Treasure Island. Just avoid the military checkpoint and all will be ok.
It wasn't until later, after a rush stop at ImagiKnits where I found two amazing skeins of JaggerSpun in a beautiful Sage color was I going to be introduced to the $6 elixir. The store was closed but as the owner was hosting a class in a few minutes, allowed me to look around quickly and buy some yarn that I truly fell in love with while doing a scarf project.
Purchases in hand, we headed to Samovar Tea Lounge where this amazing $6 post-yoga adaptogenic drink promised to refresh me, revive my tired spirits, quench my thirst, clarify my skin, enhance my beauty, increase sexual prowess AND adapt itself to my body's needs. At $6, I'd of been happy if it did at least 1 out of the list. It had a light citrusy taste and while I didn't feel like I had reached another cosmic level, maybe I was expecting too much for $6. Still if you're looking for answers to some random questions in life, I suggest this tea. Compared to the rates of psychiatrists, excluding Lucy van Pelt, this is a much easier pill to swallow.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Must Direct Them to the Fire!
Visiting San Francisco again was like going to your summer home again. You know for the most part, the important things- the address, door, the part of the stone path that has a wobbly pebble that'll give unsuspecting strangers a sprained ankle will all be there. There is that vague sense of familiarity, yet mixed with a tinge of strangeness and newness because you haven't been there in a year and forgot that life moves on at its own pace without you.
So on a relatively warm, bright, sunny day, rather unusual for San Francisco, I was heading from Fisherman's Wharf to Pier 33. The walk was lovely even though I did end up weaving in and out of the crowd as my feet still seemed to think they were in NYC. The problem however is that there was a fire on the other side of the city prompting 2-3 ambulances, fire engine trucks and police cars to zoom down the street, sirens blaring. Even that was acceptable, maybe ev en a small reminder of home in New York, except....the tourists.
I have no problems with being a tourist in a city. In fact I'm a tourist in every city but NYC and like most tourists, I've accepted the fact that I'm not exactly aware of where things really are. Yet, in front of me stood a 6'4" burly tourist who stared at the line of speeding vehicles and proceeded to point, YES....raise his hand and POINT to the direction of where he "thought" the fire was....on a ONE way street. Now I ask. . . did he think that the city of San Francisco were so ill-equipped that there was no radio on their trucks? That a series of tourists notified dispatch that there was a fire on the other side of town? Still, I was even going to let that pass, and not spoil by day, until I crossed a block, and still ANOTHER tourist kept pointing, not waving, to the direction of where he saw the last car go by. The other pet peeve I have is that it's a one way street. Where on earth did they think this fire truck was going to go?
Still, as I crossed yet another block, another person scrambled through his bag and upon seeing the trucks mumbled, oh the fire trucks, fire . . . must make a phone call. And I ask yet again, to whom? The Fire Dept? To notify them of the fire that they're already on top of. I've tried to let the moments of frustration pass me by but as the final truck ran blaring through the street, a few others pointed to the direction that all the vehicles were going....on . . . a ONE WAY street.
Maybe only I find this annoying and silly. But I was so caught up in this moment of exasperation, that I had no choice but to walk briskly away and completely forgot to take photos of it. However, I did take some lovely pictures of San Francisco. Fog, Sun, or in between.
I'm not Grace
My real name is not Grace.
During a trip to the redwoods in August of 2008, I realized that to make life easier, I'd pick out a simple name to prevent situations like, "What's your name again?", "Pardon?" "How do you spell that?"
What started out as an idea to travel efficiently led to a lot of guest books scattered along the Northern California area being signed Grace. (You try introducing yourself to the owner of the store/attraction center as one name and them watching you sign the book as you contemplate signing a different name!) I'm not ashamed of my name or have any intentions of hiding the "real" me behind another persona. This is me, just the part that makes traveling and experiencing life a little easier.
During a trip to the redwoods in August of 2008, I realized that to make life easier, I'd pick out a simple name to prevent situations like, "What's your name again?", "Pardon?" "How do you spell that?"
What started out as an idea to travel efficiently led to a lot of guest books scattered along the Northern California area being signed Grace. (You try introducing yourself to the owner of the store/attraction center as one name and them watching you sign the book as you contemplate signing a different name!) I'm not ashamed of my name or have any intentions of hiding the "real" me behind another persona. This is me, just the part that makes traveling and experiencing life a little easier.
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