Postcard from the Califiornia Coast

1. Postcard from the California Coast, 2. Steinbeck's Cannery Row, 3. The Giants, 4. Andy at Monterey Bay Aquarium

Mosaic made with FD's Flickr Toys.

Postcard (and notebook entry) from the California coast:

After driving back through the desert and miraculously surviving (in a completely gutless Volkwagen Golf) the 90-mile-an-hour, smog-smothered interstate that races through LA and surrounding urban sprawl, Andy and I finally made it to California Highway 1, a sleepy, winding road that clings precariously to the edge of the continent and overlooks the Pacific. After mailing some postcards from Hollywood (in the relatively-dead hours of the night), we drove northward, finally stopping in Ventura, a strange, sandy little hub that attracts both uppercrust souvenir-shopping tourists and beach bumming, dog loving, no-shoes-no-shirt surfer culture. After a blissful shower and good night's rest in a classy Hotel 6, Andy and I walked around town, ate lunch in a little hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant with electric pink painted walls ("Yasmin's": I recommend), and admired the assortment of vintage hotel and business signs that the town has apparently made an effort to preserve (they were everywhere, retro-fabulous and photo-worthy). After lunch we unwittingly wandered down the street into the cacophony and chaos known as "The Retarded Childrens' Thrift Shop," a hip--if slightly grungy--Goodwill-like establishment that was completely packed with shoppers and cheap thrills (most stuff was between $1.95 and $3.95). I found a short coral colored dress to wear over jeans, and a couple of tanktops that turn me into a strawberry-blonde Amelie Poulain sort of character. In short, politically incorrect name aside, The Retarded Childrens' Thrift Shop is worth a stop if you're near the Ventura area and have a penchant for thrifting (as I do). Additionally, the store's "Price is Right"-reminiscent public announcements--given in English and then Spanish by two different, but equally enthusiastic and tasteless spokesmen--are priceless. Fly there, children--go!--and see for yourselves.

We didn't stay long in Ventura, opting instead to head farther northward toward San Luis Obispo--a gorgeous (and clearly moneyed) little city nestled alongside Morrow Bay. Since most of the surrounding parklike areas seem to be on fenced, private property, there wasn't a ton to see or do in San Luis Obispo, aside from setting up camp at a BLM area: we pitched our tent at a ridiculously expensive campsite by the bay, barbequed massive hamburgers and fresh corn, ate California oranges, took tacky Polaroid pictures, sipped coffee and Bailey's late into the night, and read books by lantern light (most excellent). I finished Yann Martel's Life of Pi (which has an incredible and heartwrenching conclusion) and began Christina Garcia's The Aguero Sisters, keeping in line with my plan to read at least one book per week during my stint between undergrad and graduate school. Not that you'll care, but I have to write about it nevertheless. I'm compulsive like that.

More on Cannery Row and Monterey Bay later, and then I'll conclude this (likely boring) roadtrip-writing madness.