Post by wheelspinner on Apr 25, 2009 18:51:39 GMT -5
March 2002.
Our first weekend trip was on the President's Day Weekend, in late February. The family climbed into the Trailblazer on Friday night and headed off to Carmel. Thanks to Yahoo Maps, I now Know The Way To San Jose (basically you take the I24 a couple of miles towards Walnut Creek, then the I680 South for about 40 miles then turn off at the Downtown exit). It's a shame Dionne didn't have Yahoo - it would have saved us all that horrible song.
After passing San Jose, we had our first experience of Traffic. Until then, we had merely been driving around a bit. As soon as the I680 even took a look at the US101 road to LA, it came to a Dead Stop. About 8 lanes of southbound traffic converge into 2 in a matter of about 100 metres. This process is assisted greatly by traffic lights and drivers giving audible displays of Genuine Understanding and Support for out-of-town visitors.
After having a catnap and a coffee break, the car moved forward, and we rolled down US101 at a Funereal Pace. Accompanied by the sounds of Pink Floyd and Complaining Children we progressed for about three hours before we finally happened on Carmel. This occurred by accident, as someone had turned out the lights.
Carmel has the reputation of being a Tourist Trap. It is difficult to see how this can be so, since it is almost impossible to locate. Street lighting seems to be banned and street numbers certainly are. Houses and hotels have names, not numbers, and we had to cruise around half of Carmel in the pitch black before finding a place that might be our hotel. It is always possible, I suppose, that Carmel is like a Venus Fly Trap for tourists - those that do happen to wander in have great difficulty escaping.
Carmel is noted as being "that city that Clint Eastwood was mayor of", and he still lives there apparently. It is entirely possible that we met Clint while we were there, just walked straight past him in the pitch black. Clint owns the local classy restaurant, the Hog's Breath Cafe.
Upon arrival we went looking for some dinner, whereupon we learned Rule Number One about Carmel. This Rule is Nothing Is Cheap. There are literally NO take-away food places in all of Carmel. If you wish to eat, you must do so in a restaurant. All restaurants close around 9 pm, which is roughly when we arrived. Faced with Starvation, we elected to eat dinner at one of the only two choices available - which happened to be about the most expensive seafood restaurant on the Monterey peninsula. Gulp! I desperately scanned the menu for some unbuttered bun or plain soup that I could order without Setting My Credit Card Aflame. (I perhaps need to remind readers at this point that we have no credit rating here - no one will extend any credit to Aliens, although American ten year olds are quite acceptable). This is one occasion when I was grateful for the pickiness of my children in restaurants - it allowed us to escape for no more than the cost of a small wedding.
When day dawned on Saturday morning we were greeted by the Carmel idea of breakfast. This consisted of a cold bun and a juice. One had a choice of unappetising bagel, unappetising muffin or unappetising croissant. Knowing of the endeavours that lay before us, we forced ourselves to nibble at least some. After breakfast we elected to stroll around the metropolis. In daylight we learned Rule Number Two about Carmel - Shopping Restrictions. Retailers in Carmel are allowed to operate an Art Gallery, a Restaurant or a Haute Couture Boutique. All other forms of shopping are banned. For Australians, Carmel is pretty much what Portsea, Toorak or Double Bay could be if they would just pull their fingers out and Become Exclusive.
As we wandered the streets of Carmel, my son chose this moment in his short lifetime to alert us to the fact that he was lame and his shoes were presenting him with Serious Discomfort. We were perturbed at this, as we planned significant perambulations during our stay. It was agreed that this should be Remedied Without Delay.
We then marked ourselves forever as Tourists by inquiring of the local denizens where one could acquire Cheap Children's Shoes. Those who did not actively collapse with laughter were frozen with indecision between recommending Prada or Salvatore Ferragamo. After much aimless wandering, we finally located a Rockport store which was Having A Sale, which in Carmel means reducing the price to the Merely Outrageous. The vendor measure my son's feet and revealed that he is a size 9 - he had been walking around in size 7 and a half. (These sizes have been seasonally adjusted). It is impossible to believe that this extent of growth occurred overnight; the inescapable conclusion is that this is my son's evilly plotted Revenge for Delaying His Christmas present.
Feeling lighter of step (and wallet) we ventured forth for lunch and found a Real American Diner. The need for Junk Food was significant, following our quality dinner and the breakfast rations. This need was extensively indulged and all members of the party expressed their satisfaction after a mere two hours at the nosebag. We roamed around Carmel looking at the shops all afternoon - there is nothing else to do. In the evening, we went to dinner - there is nothing else to do.
Sunday dawned. Bravely forsaking our Prison Rations, we ventured down to Katy's Place for sustenance. Now this is a place Worth Crossing The Ocean For. Katy's serves breakfast. Pancakes, omelettes, scrambled eggs, waffles, bacon, sausages, etc. Not one dish on the menu can be finished at a single sitting. It is a truly Humbling Experience to visit a restaurant where teenage boys push their plates back because they simply cannot eat any more. (It is more usual for them to say "Yuck" when doing so).
Stuffed full of Katy's product (and then some) we rolled into the gas-guzzler and headed for Big Sur. Big Sur is a 90-mile drive along the Pacific Coast. It runs from just south of Carmel to San Simeon, where William Randolph Hearst built his mansion. It is a very arduous drive; the constant climbing in and out of the car to look at the spectacular views was exhausting. This was done roughly every 200 yards as a new vista of the Pacific Ocean, the cliffs, the Big Sur or Little Sur rivers opened up. Oh, and the wild life - herons, gulls, squirrels and a condor.
While the drive is not so far, it took hours to complete. In a sense, you could say we Pulled In All The Stops. Consequently, we arrived at San Simeon Just In Time to be Too Late. The last tour left as we parked. The mansion towers on a hill above the Visitor Centre, and visitors may not approach unless they have Bought A Ticket. Oops. We took a few long shots of what Might Be A House, and headed back to Carmel.
On arrival in Carmel, we went to dinner (there is nothing else to do). On this occasion we chose the Forge In The Forest noshery. While this venue is Justly Famous for its steaks, it is really known for its chocolate brownie. This dessert is not recommended for solo diners. It is a fresh brownie, cooked in a largish frypan and brought hot to the table with chocolate sauce, cream and much else that is Sinful. I split this between myself and my oldest son, and we barely defeated it.
Evening came and morning came; the third day. (Monday). We somehow managed to bypass our prison food and repair again to Katy's, where we once again failed to defeat any of the dishes we ordered, despite being cognizant of the dangers prior to ordering. We then clambered into the car and headed for the 17 mile drive.
Stricken with a guilty conscience over all this food, Greg elected to ride the 17 mile on his bike. This would have been a great idea, except that the drive is so scenic that he had to stop every 10 feet to take a photograph. The road goes through the Pebble Beach Golf Course; Greg did not feel at all self-conscious riding through this haven of sporting elitism in his baggy cords and sweaty T-shirt. The drive winds along Monterey Peninsula and past various Golf (Gold?) Courses, all of which issue dire warnings against trespassing on the grass or anywhere else. Some of these Golf Courses contained spectacular layouts, including one hole that required one to tee off over the Pacific to the fairway. Inspired by this, the family resolved to - swear off golf forever.
One last highlight of the weekend was a visit to Cannery Row (of Steinbeck fame) in Monterey, and the Monterey Aquarium. Steinbeck would be proud of what has been made of Cannery Row, it is possibly the most uninspiring tourist strip in the USA. All of the old buildings are preserved (in a cannery perhaps?) so as to fill them with cheap tourist shops selling knick-knacks, stuffed toys, Tshirts, corn dogs and so on. Very authentic. At the Aquarium, Greg wreaked his Terrible Revenge on his younger son by forcing him to walk miles in his new Rockports looking at every fish in the aquarium, some of them twice. The aquarium contains fish, as well as other things that live in the water, including weeds. Its main attraction is that you can look at the fish through plastic walls. Everybody ignored every fish unless it was a shark, and only the biggest sharks, or a hammerhead, excited comment. Most attendees were disappointed that the sharks appeared less hungry than they had hoped.
Having exhausted my sons beyond the "I'm barely tolerating you Dad" look, we climbed into the SUV and drove home. It turned out that they Way From San Jose is pretty much the same, only backwards. esoJ naS oT yaW ehT wonK uoY oD.
Our first weekend trip was on the President's Day Weekend, in late February. The family climbed into the Trailblazer on Friday night and headed off to Carmel. Thanks to Yahoo Maps, I now Know The Way To San Jose (basically you take the I24 a couple of miles towards Walnut Creek, then the I680 South for about 40 miles then turn off at the Downtown exit). It's a shame Dionne didn't have Yahoo - it would have saved us all that horrible song.
After passing San Jose, we had our first experience of Traffic. Until then, we had merely been driving around a bit. As soon as the I680 even took a look at the US101 road to LA, it came to a Dead Stop. About 8 lanes of southbound traffic converge into 2 in a matter of about 100 metres. This process is assisted greatly by traffic lights and drivers giving audible displays of Genuine Understanding and Support for out-of-town visitors.
After having a catnap and a coffee break, the car moved forward, and we rolled down US101 at a Funereal Pace. Accompanied by the sounds of Pink Floyd and Complaining Children we progressed for about three hours before we finally happened on Carmel. This occurred by accident, as someone had turned out the lights.
Carmel has the reputation of being a Tourist Trap. It is difficult to see how this can be so, since it is almost impossible to locate. Street lighting seems to be banned and street numbers certainly are. Houses and hotels have names, not numbers, and we had to cruise around half of Carmel in the pitch black before finding a place that might be our hotel. It is always possible, I suppose, that Carmel is like a Venus Fly Trap for tourists - those that do happen to wander in have great difficulty escaping.
Carmel is noted as being "that city that Clint Eastwood was mayor of", and he still lives there apparently. It is entirely possible that we met Clint while we were there, just walked straight past him in the pitch black. Clint owns the local classy restaurant, the Hog's Breath Cafe.
Upon arrival we went looking for some dinner, whereupon we learned Rule Number One about Carmel. This Rule is Nothing Is Cheap. There are literally NO take-away food places in all of Carmel. If you wish to eat, you must do so in a restaurant. All restaurants close around 9 pm, which is roughly when we arrived. Faced with Starvation, we elected to eat dinner at one of the only two choices available - which happened to be about the most expensive seafood restaurant on the Monterey peninsula. Gulp! I desperately scanned the menu for some unbuttered bun or plain soup that I could order without Setting My Credit Card Aflame. (I perhaps need to remind readers at this point that we have no credit rating here - no one will extend any credit to Aliens, although American ten year olds are quite acceptable). This is one occasion when I was grateful for the pickiness of my children in restaurants - it allowed us to escape for no more than the cost of a small wedding.
When day dawned on Saturday morning we were greeted by the Carmel idea of breakfast. This consisted of a cold bun and a juice. One had a choice of unappetising bagel, unappetising muffin or unappetising croissant. Knowing of the endeavours that lay before us, we forced ourselves to nibble at least some. After breakfast we elected to stroll around the metropolis. In daylight we learned Rule Number Two about Carmel - Shopping Restrictions. Retailers in Carmel are allowed to operate an Art Gallery, a Restaurant or a Haute Couture Boutique. All other forms of shopping are banned. For Australians, Carmel is pretty much what Portsea, Toorak or Double Bay could be if they would just pull their fingers out and Become Exclusive.
As we wandered the streets of Carmel, my son chose this moment in his short lifetime to alert us to the fact that he was lame and his shoes were presenting him with Serious Discomfort. We were perturbed at this, as we planned significant perambulations during our stay. It was agreed that this should be Remedied Without Delay.
We then marked ourselves forever as Tourists by inquiring of the local denizens where one could acquire Cheap Children's Shoes. Those who did not actively collapse with laughter were frozen with indecision between recommending Prada or Salvatore Ferragamo. After much aimless wandering, we finally located a Rockport store which was Having A Sale, which in Carmel means reducing the price to the Merely Outrageous. The vendor measure my son's feet and revealed that he is a size 9 - he had been walking around in size 7 and a half. (These sizes have been seasonally adjusted). It is impossible to believe that this extent of growth occurred overnight; the inescapable conclusion is that this is my son's evilly plotted Revenge for Delaying His Christmas present.
Feeling lighter of step (and wallet) we ventured forth for lunch and found a Real American Diner. The need for Junk Food was significant, following our quality dinner and the breakfast rations. This need was extensively indulged and all members of the party expressed their satisfaction after a mere two hours at the nosebag. We roamed around Carmel looking at the shops all afternoon - there is nothing else to do. In the evening, we went to dinner - there is nothing else to do.
Sunday dawned. Bravely forsaking our Prison Rations, we ventured down to Katy's Place for sustenance. Now this is a place Worth Crossing The Ocean For. Katy's serves breakfast. Pancakes, omelettes, scrambled eggs, waffles, bacon, sausages, etc. Not one dish on the menu can be finished at a single sitting. It is a truly Humbling Experience to visit a restaurant where teenage boys push their plates back because they simply cannot eat any more. (It is more usual for them to say "Yuck" when doing so).
Stuffed full of Katy's product (and then some) we rolled into the gas-guzzler and headed for Big Sur. Big Sur is a 90-mile drive along the Pacific Coast. It runs from just south of Carmel to San Simeon, where William Randolph Hearst built his mansion. It is a very arduous drive; the constant climbing in and out of the car to look at the spectacular views was exhausting. This was done roughly every 200 yards as a new vista of the Pacific Ocean, the cliffs, the Big Sur or Little Sur rivers opened up. Oh, and the wild life - herons, gulls, squirrels and a condor.
While the drive is not so far, it took hours to complete. In a sense, you could say we Pulled In All The Stops. Consequently, we arrived at San Simeon Just In Time to be Too Late. The last tour left as we parked. The mansion towers on a hill above the Visitor Centre, and visitors may not approach unless they have Bought A Ticket. Oops. We took a few long shots of what Might Be A House, and headed back to Carmel.
On arrival in Carmel, we went to dinner (there is nothing else to do). On this occasion we chose the Forge In The Forest noshery. While this venue is Justly Famous for its steaks, it is really known for its chocolate brownie. This dessert is not recommended for solo diners. It is a fresh brownie, cooked in a largish frypan and brought hot to the table with chocolate sauce, cream and much else that is Sinful. I split this between myself and my oldest son, and we barely defeated it.
Evening came and morning came; the third day. (Monday). We somehow managed to bypass our prison food and repair again to Katy's, where we once again failed to defeat any of the dishes we ordered, despite being cognizant of the dangers prior to ordering. We then clambered into the car and headed for the 17 mile drive.
Stricken with a guilty conscience over all this food, Greg elected to ride the 17 mile on his bike. This would have been a great idea, except that the drive is so scenic that he had to stop every 10 feet to take a photograph. The road goes through the Pebble Beach Golf Course; Greg did not feel at all self-conscious riding through this haven of sporting elitism in his baggy cords and sweaty T-shirt. The drive winds along Monterey Peninsula and past various Golf (Gold?) Courses, all of which issue dire warnings against trespassing on the grass or anywhere else. Some of these Golf Courses contained spectacular layouts, including one hole that required one to tee off over the Pacific to the fairway. Inspired by this, the family resolved to - swear off golf forever.
One last highlight of the weekend was a visit to Cannery Row (of Steinbeck fame) in Monterey, and the Monterey Aquarium. Steinbeck would be proud of what has been made of Cannery Row, it is possibly the most uninspiring tourist strip in the USA. All of the old buildings are preserved (in a cannery perhaps?) so as to fill them with cheap tourist shops selling knick-knacks, stuffed toys, Tshirts, corn dogs and so on. Very authentic. At the Aquarium, Greg wreaked his Terrible Revenge on his younger son by forcing him to walk miles in his new Rockports looking at every fish in the aquarium, some of them twice. The aquarium contains fish, as well as other things that live in the water, including weeds. Its main attraction is that you can look at the fish through plastic walls. Everybody ignored every fish unless it was a shark, and only the biggest sharks, or a hammerhead, excited comment. Most attendees were disappointed that the sharks appeared less hungry than they had hoped.
Having exhausted my sons beyond the "I'm barely tolerating you Dad" look, we climbed into the SUV and drove home. It turned out that they Way From San Jose is pretty much the same, only backwards. esoJ naS oT yaW ehT wonK uoY oD.
