SoCal

Sorry for the lack of post yesterday. I fell asleep at 8:30. I'm a whimp.

We did the Highway 1 drive from San Fran to Los Angeles. We stopped in beautiful towns along the way, including morning in Carmel (where Clint Eastwood was mayor). The sea lions were sunning themselves on the rocks. They were yawping so loudly, we thought they were piping in the noise to attract tourists. But it really wasn't the case.

Here's part of the fishing bay. You can see a sea lion on the floating tire attached to the boat.



We continued on south through Pebble Beach Golf Course. The road takes you right though the lodge, shopping area and restaurants of the course, so we stopped and had a snack. Yum! Golfing this course really is right on the shore:



This tree is the logo for the course:



After spending the night in Santa Barbara (which was beautiful), we met up with my friend Shawna and her kids who took us on a whirlwind tour of Beverly Hills, Rodeo Drive, Sprinkles (cupcakes) and Hollywood.





Who knows what tomorrow will bring, but it's looking like sun!

Muir Woods and the coast

I'm pretty beat, so this will be short. I went to Muir Woods this morning with my new friend Laura. The photos really don't do it justice because they aren't scratch-and-sniff.





This was a fella who wandered into the shot on accident, so we decided to make the most of it:



The tour included a stop in Sausalito (sp?) on the way back. It's a cute little town known for its houseboat residents. This is one of the more famous--the Taj Mahal.



After Tim finished his presentation at the conference, we rented a car and headed for the coast. We made it just in time for sunset.



Tomorrow, we continue down Highway 1. I hope it's warm!

It really is uphill both ways

I am sore. And beat. And did you know you have muscles in your shin area? Well you do. I know this because mine hurt. But I don't feel guilty for eating that crepe, though.

We did a ton of walking today. The weather has been beautiful (sunny and in the low 60s) for the most part, so it was a great day for a long walk. Tim went to his conference this morning, so I explored the area near our hotel. Apparently, there is a swanky neighborhood just across the street full of old, victorian and art deco architecture. I started walking up a hill, turned right, walked up another hill and came to a park. What do you know? There was a hill in the park. I felt like a mountain goat.

After picking up Tim at the hotel (wow, that sounds naughty, but it really wasn't), we had lunch and headed back to China Town. I couldn't let him leave San Fran without experiencing that. We made a bee-line for the fortune cookie factory. Since I already had a photo of cookies being made, I opted for a photo with the adorable little old man who acted as "host" of the shop.



After China Town, we met up with my new travel friend, Laura, at City Lights Books. The bookstore is famous for being owned by one of the Beat Poets, but I didn't see him there. I did see this mural behind the building, which I thought had some pretty sage advice:



The next part of our adventures led us up, up and up hill. A lot of up hill. We wanted to go to the top of Coit Tower, which was built to honor the firefighters that battled the post-1906 earthquake fire. Some people say it looks like a firehose. Others say it looks like a, well, AHEM. I think it looks like a lighthouse.



After climbing to the top of a very steep hill and then taking several flights of stairs to the base of the tower, it turned out you couldn't go to the top because it was under renovation. Figures. But the view from the tower area was nice and we got to go though some really beautiful backyard gardens on the way down.

Our next stop took us to Lombard Street, the crookedest street in San Fran. It has eight switchbacks that cars have to navigate to decend the hill (it's a one-way street). They also have to navigate tourists jumping into the road for a photo. We started at the base of the hill and walked up more stairs to the top. It was a nice walk, beautifully landscaped, so it didn't seem bad.



At the top of the hill, we all decided it was time for a drink and a snack. Fisherman's Warf and Pier 39 were only a few blocks away, down this street:



We made it to the bottom and thought we should check for the sea lions that frequent the bar area of the warf. We smelled them before we could see them. Cute animals, but woof! SMELLY! Alas, it was naptime:



Tomorrow my new friend Laura and I are going to Muir Woods. Then Tim and I leave San Fran and start making our way down Highway 1 toward Caramel and San Simeon, and eventually L.A.

Seeing the sites of San Fran

I had a very busy day. It's helping a lot that my body hasn't fully adapted to Pacific time, so waking up at 6 a.m. feels like sleeping in to me. I'm telling myself it is the jetlag that got me to Ghirardelli Square at 9:15 this morning, not the excitement over being in a store completely devoted to the consumption of chocolate. Makes perfect sense.

After taking in the free chocolate samples and smells of the square, I made my way down Fisherman's Warf. Between stores and restaurants, you can sneek peaks at the bay, Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz. After a little retail therapy, I visited the aquarium. A school of sardines and anchovies were swirling above me in one of the tunnels:



The aquarium made me hungry for seafood, so I called Tim and he joined me on the warf for lunch. I enticed him with crab sandwiches, which did not disappoint:



After lunch, we headed back to the hotel so Tim could work on his presentation for Wednesday and so I could figure our what kind of trouble I could get into next. I opted for China Town.

I caught a trolley (Think: Rice-a-Roni the San Francisco treat! Ding-ding!) to Grant Street, which is right in the heart of China Town. I wasn't sure what to expect, but it was a blast. I began by looking for a fortune cookie factory and on the way, I met a woman who was also touring by herself. We ended up exploring China Town the rest of the afternoon together.

We started by sampling tea. The tea shop had at least 40 teas to sample.



You start by telling the shopkeeper what kind of tea you like. They then tailor your tasting around what they think you will like. Sitting at a bar, the tea person gives you a tiny cup--smaller than a child's tea set. She made us several samples of tea to try. It was a lot like doing shots of boiling water. As fun and educational as that was, by tongue is still a little raw. The last sample we tried was called something like Iron Goddess Something or Other. It was a great tea, which I wanted to buy for home. Note the past tense of that sentence. The tea cost $120 per pound. Uh, I'll go with the cheaper jasmine tea, thanks. We also sampled tea that had monkey in the name and we were assured there were no monkeys harmed in the tea making process. But by far the most interesting tea we sampled smelled and tasted like buttered popcorn, which was very enjoyable.

Leaving the shop hopped up on caffeine, tongues blazing, we began looking for the elusive fortune cookie factory. The discription in my guidebook was a little misleading. I thought factory: assembly line, a dozen or so workers, a cash register. Not at all. This was a tiny store front (we passed it several times. I finally asked a tiny old man where it was, and patting me on the hand, he pointed about 15 feet behind me). Inside a little old man gave you a hot-off-the-cookie-maker sample as you walked in to his "store." Further in, an old lady was sitting at the cookie maker pouring batter, folding and stuffing cookies with fortunes. It was 50 cents for a photo of the cookie making in action. Totally worth it. Plus, when you paid for the photo, the little old guy gave me another two hot cookies--score!



Leaving the fortune cookie factory, we bumped into a woman who was a tour guide. She told us we couldn't leave China Town without seeing the oldest temple there. So we followed her over a few blocks to Waverly (Amy Tan wrote about this street in The Joy Luck Club). In a very non-descript doorway, up four flights of stairs, you walk into a Chinese temple. No photos were allowed, so you'll have to take my word for it that it was beautiful and ornate and red. In such a tiny space (it was maybe 15 feet wide and 30 feet deep), around 100 lanterns hung from the ceiling all with red papers attached to the bottom. Prayers of thanks and requests for spiritual help hung from the ceiling in front of the altar. By making a donation to keep the temple operating, I was given a packet of tea and a good luck charm of red fabric and string.

After the temple, we continued our stroll and found a Chinese kite shop. If you can think of a shape, they had a kite. These were just two of the really interesting kites we saw:



We wrapped up the night with dinner with a high school friend of mine and his wife. It was my first experience with Indian food and it was fun. It was great to see a familiar face, especially one I haven't seen in more than 10 years. Thanks!

Not sure what the plan is tomorrow. You'll just have to tune in and be surprised.

California!

This trip has been amazing so far. California has so many variations--remote and wild to packed with people and concrete.

After we landed, we rented a car and headed in the direction of Yosemite. I have to give HUGE propps to Garmen. The navigation system made it so much easier and efficient to get around. I highly recommned them.

The drive to Yosemite was beautiful. It was full of rolling hills, huge mountains and winding roads. One road was even covered by a rock slide, so we had to share a one-way road. Once we got into the park, it lived up to every expectation we had. Bridal Veil Falls, Yosemite Falls, Half Dome and El Capitan were all easily visible or hikable. But the park is so huge (it's the size of Rhode Island) that we feel we barely scratched the surface.



The day after Yosemite was rainy, so we decided to drive to Pointe Reyes National Seashore in the hopes that we would drive out of the storm. It worked! The seashore is tucked miles back from the main gate.



We drove through (literally, through) ranches that had been in business since the mid 1800s. Seriously, cow crossing! Oh, and I'm pretty sure I had the best cokie I've ever had in my life near Olema at a bakery called Bovine Bakery. Double chocolate cherry. Yum!

We're in San Francisco today. I'm heading out in a little bit to explore. I'm torn between Chinatown and Fisherman's Warf. I have a feeling Fisherman's Warf will win because it's near Gheridelli.

Last mango in Paris...again

Well, we're at the end of another trip. The video says a lot, but here are a few more of my final thoughts on Paris:

Things I Will Miss
-bread
-pastry shops on every corner
-the beautiful architecture
-the "life is to be enjoyed" attitude
-the bed in our apartment
-knowing that wonderful museums are just around the corner
-chocolate
-bread
-gaufres (see the photo)
-short skirts (that's Tim's contribution to the list)

Things I Will Not Miss
-the smell of pee in the subway
-the formality in everything
-dinner isn't served until 7 p.m. or after
-it's damn cold here
-everyone smokes here
-Clip Clop (a named we've given one of our neighbors who clods up and down the stairs in high-heeled shoes obnoxiously early and impossibly late)
-kamikaze pidgeons

Signing off from Paris--see you soon!

Put my panties in the air and wave them like you just don't care

Yes, this post is about my unmentionalbles. You still have time to turn the car around, but after this point, you may be as scarred as I am. For you creepy people, there will be no photos that correspond with this post.

It was a day of retail therapy for me. Suz and I dropped the fellas off in a delightful cafe and took off for a few area department stores. The first store we tried had tons of stuff that was interesting to look at, but nothing to buy.

The second store was a huge score for me. I found a few great things at reasonable prices. Two of the things were Unmentionalbles (that's all the detail you get). After I thouroughly perused the store, I took my purchases to the counter to pay. This went off pretty much without a hitch for someone in a foreign country. Bag in hand, Suz and I decend three floors to the ground level to continue our retail conquest.



Just as I reach for the door handle, the store alarm starts screeching. And hustling toward me is the biggest, baldest, darkest skinned Frenchman I have ever seen. His size is intimidating. His uniform is intimidating. The fact that he and I can't understand each other is intimidating. But he was very nice.

He asked for my bag and the reciept for my purchases, which he took to a small table just inside the door but still in front of everyone exiting and entering the store. He checked the reciept and then began pulling one item at a time out of my bag and waving it in front of a security sensor. It wasn't the tights. Nor the hat. Next came an Unmentionable, which he flapped around like a flag for the Nation of Underpants. If I had known how to say, "This is the best part of your day, isn't it?" I would have. Although, I'm pretty sure my Unmentionable purchase would have probably suited someone's granny.

Alas, it was not the offending item. It turned out to be the turtleneck I bought. Thank goodness.

On to Bayeux...Part Deux

We pick up this blog with our little group spending its first night in the charming Midieval town of Bayeux...

After exploring the town and grabbing dinner, we all decided to call an early night for several reasons:
-we had to get up early for the D-Day beach tour the next morning
-it was freezing
-there was nothing else to do

When we went to bed, the world around us looked like this:



When we woke up, it looked like this:


About four inches for fluffy snow had fallen during the night. Not thinking much of it, we went to breakfast at the restaurant in the hotel. While we were eating, Battle Bus, the tour company we hired to take us to the beaches, called. The tour was canceled. The guides couldn't get their cars out of the driveway. Plus, the roads were "treacherous."

What? For four inches of snow? Puh-shaw!

We decided to head out on our own in the rental car. Again, que the dramatic music.

At first the roads were just wet. But as we wound our way down (note the word, "down") to Omaha Beach, it became increasingly snow covered and icy. Add to that the excitement of a two-foot ditch on either side of the road and we really have a ballgame.

After some slipping and nearly getting stuck, we decided it was best to turn it around. Uphill. On ice. Ugh.

With the traction control working full time, Tim began easing the car up the hills back to the main roads. Give it some gas, slip to the right. Put on the brake, slip a little more. The driving was difficult at best, our knuckles matching the snow we thought was no match for us.

Finally, it happened. The car wouldn't move any further. We were stuck on a back-country French road with no pastry shop in sight. Not a single crepe stand to speak of around.

It's time to push the car up the hill. I got the money job of driving while the other four pushed our snot-colored Vibe uphill on ice. But, we're all pretty tough, and since I'm blogging here now, you probably guessed we made it to the main road with a story to tell.

After a quick stop at the British Memorial Museum and a drive-by of the cemetary, we decided another spanking was in order, so we turned the car toward the North Sea, a huge snowstorm we knew nothing about, and the abby of Mont St. Michele.

The drive started out as simple as one can expect driving in a foreign country. Then the first few flakes began to fall. Charming, we think. Then, the flakes got serious. Soon, it looked like this:

Shit.

Lord bless him, Tim gave it his all with that car and driving in yucky conditions. But after seeing a few road signs that roughly translated into, "Hey dummy! Turn around! The roads are horrible!" we decided it would be best to come back another time. Like in the summer. When it's nice out.

So, we drove back to Paris and out of a blizzard. And that was our big adventure to the North Sea.

The End.

On to Bayeux, Part I

We fell off the grid for a little while there. And let me explain why.

On Tuesday, Tim, Tony, Shelley, Suz and I all made our way to the airport to rent a car and drive to Bayeux in north France. The Plan was to drive to Mont St. Michele, tour the abby, then drive to Bayeux for the night. The following morning, we'd have a tour of the D-Day beaches and explore the town after the tour. Note the word, "was."

Que the dramatic music.

Bright and early Tuesday morning we got on the train for the airport to pick up the rental car. The email confirmation for the rental car looked like we were to go to Terminal 3. So, to Terminal 3 we went.

Please keep in mind it's freezing here. I know you're freezing at home. I just want you to know that it's no luau here, either.

We get to Terminal 3 only to find out that the rental car is in Terminal 1 and we need to hop the airport tram to get there. We are now Plan Execution Time Plus one hour. The entire trip, if you Google Map it, should take about three hours thirty minutes.

In Terminal 1, we find the rental car place and a pastry (score!)and head out to the car. A manual transmission. Now's the point in the story where I backtrack a little and let you in on a joke. Tim's been telling everyone that he's been learning to drive stick by watching YouTube and Gone in 60 Seconds as well as playing MarioKart. He was very convincing. In reality, he asked a friend (Thanks, Matt!) to teach him to drive a stick, which he claims was a piece of cake.

We pile into the car, snug as bugs in a rug. Tim starts the engine. Takes a few seconds to familiarize himself with the car. Puts it in gear. Lets off the clutch. And stalls.

No biggie. We were all expecting an adjustment period (Tim wasn't, so confident was he in his skills). He starts the car again, noticing the rental car guy standing right next to us pretending not to watch. He puts it in gear, lets off the clutch. And stalls. This vicious cycle repeats itself no fewer than eight times. Meanwhile, we've managed to go about seven feet, including the couple of times we rolled backward a little.

After a few more efforts, we actually drive forward about 50 feet when we come to a corner and we miss it. Now, the car has to go in reverse to angle around the tight corner. Please pause with me a moment to reflect back on the rental car guy who is watching this entire episode unfold and what he must be thinking.

This is the point in the adventure that we all decide it will be better to check again to see if an automatic is available, or else we might miss our reservations in Bayeux. It would take an awful long time to get there, inch by inch.

While Tony and Tim figure out how to bring the car around, Suz and I go in to check on the possibility of getting a different car. The woman behind the counter took pity on us and found a "huge" vehicle that would suit us perfectly. Roughly, it was a Vibe, maybe a smidge bigger.

We pile into the new car, start the engine, put it in gear and--WOO-HOO!--start barreling along at 15 km/hr. A record for us in this parking garage. It was the best 50 euro upgrade ever.

Now that we have a car that is equal to our skill level, navigation becomes the ticky part. Paris roads are a tangled up mess of spaghetti, which I imagine are difficult under the best circumstances. Add to that unfamiliarity with the different signage, language barriers and the art of French hand gestures and you have quite a show. But once Tony got the Garmin working, things got considerably easier. Shelley and I still had maps and printed directions and were calling out the next move from the back seat. Suzie, perhaps the smartest of us all, stayed quiet and barely flinched. Bravo, Suz!

Plan Execution Time Plus two to three hours. We now all feel several years older.

At this point, we change plans, scrap going to the abby that day and go straight to Bayeux for some exploring and small-town French life.

The rest of the ride went without a hitch. We got there six hours after we started. But, it was worth the wait.

Bayeux is a beautiful little town on the north side of France. By some great blessing, it was unscathed by the German bombing and did not get mowed down on D-Day. The town boasts two features: a fantastic cathedral (called Notre Dame, of course) and the Bayeux tapestry. We set out to explore both. Photos aren't allowed of the tapestry, but here's a bit of the cathedral and the town for you:






Stay tuned for Part II....

Good-bye, friends!

We said good-bye to most of our little party. Only Shelley, Suz, Tony, Tim and I are left. Sad.

We spent most of the day just wandering, accomplishing nothing to speak of. We're packing to drive to Normandy early tomorrow morning. It will be a great adventure driving in a foreign country with a manual transmission.

To keep you coming back,here are a few of my favorite funny photos.


There's just something about two grown men not being able to fit their fingers in a coffee cup. It looks like they're at a tea party.


I will never make fun of someone for riding a fish again.


Bathrooms are hard to come by in Paris.


I wonder how, "ZOIKS!" translates into French?


I'm pretty sure he's the maitre d'.

The Video that almost was....

Tim here...don't blame any of this non-sense or lack of punctuation on Bec...

I had a blog worthy experience I just needed to share...but first I must mention that this post would not be possible without the financial support of Susan Rhein.

So there we were at a cafe between Saint Chapelle and Notre Dame. Cafes near major attractions are usually quite nice and this one did not disappoint. I need to use the toilette so I poked around inside and went down the stairs with the universal sign for toilet hanging above it. At the bottom of the steps there was a woman standing at a small but nice bar with a dish requesting 40 cents and a few phone- booth size closets to her right.

I thought there were a combination of pay and free toilets in the basement. I walked into the bathroom past the urinals and into the sitting area. There was no seat. Just two raised porcelain pads for your feet and a hole. It was the nicest eastern bathroom I have ever used. It was clean, nicely ceramic-ed and the best part, it had two stainless steel handles to keep you from falling in. I wished I had a camera.

I went upstairs and told the group what I had found. Tony, being the only other guy there at the time was probably the only other one interested. I few minutes later I was spare-changing our table (Thanks Suz) and borrowing Tony's camera. The woman must have thought I was not feeling well when I re-appeared so quickly. I went in the "sitting room" and waited a few minutes and snapped a few photos. I flushed just to complete charade, and then the next best idea struck. As a was looking for the switch to take a video of the toilet in action (flushing), the flushing was also quite an experience, somebody started pulling on the door and I thought it was best to leave.




If there are no pictures when you are reading this please come back and look in 30 minutes or so...

Churches on Sunday. Appropriate.

Miles walked: 2.35, but I think the pedometer is lying
Steps: 6,373, yet another lie
Crepes today: two, which is the truth, but they came two to a plate, so I couldn't turn one down, could I?

The day started early with the entire gang meeting at the Christmas tree in front of Notre Dame at 9 a.m.


Walking to the cathedral was almost a religous experience unto itself. The city was sleeping, the air was crisp, the sun was casting a light pink tinge across the rooftops and the hookers were doing their walk of shame. How do I know she was a hooker? No one, and I mean no one, dresses in a skirt so short it could be considered a scarf accompanied by heals that high to go out and get the Sunday paper.

Since we were at the cathedral so early, we had the place almost entirely to ourselves. We go there in time to walk around while Mass was being said, which added to the experience, especially when the singing started.


After seeing Notre Dame's windows in the morning light, we walked across the street to St. Chappelle (San Sha-pelle) to see its famous windows lit up. Because the chapel is within the compound for the Supreme Court of France, we had to go through a security checkpoint. Metal detectors, X-rays and a wanding down by a pretty good looking soldier is a funny way to go into a church (Tim dared me to touch the soldiers side arm--I declined the dare).

St. Chapelle is a small chapel built hundreds of years ago so the royalty could worship without the commoners breathing the same air. You enter the chapel on the ground floor and come into a small but elaborate hall. Two spiral (yes, every staircase is spiral) staircases take you to the next floor and into the chapel. When you get to the top of the stairs, you see this:


Beautiful, right?

The stained glass windows in this church are famous for their size and age--some go back hundreds of years, which impresses me since France is on its fifth republic and much of Europe was scarred by the world wars.



There was no heat in the chapel, so you coul, quite literally see your breath. I think it's a ploy to keep the tourists moving through the building--no dawdling there!

From St. Chappelle we hopped on the Metro and made our way to yet another church (hey, it's Sunday), the Sacre Coeur. It's not a seat of religous power, in fact it was built in the 1800s sometime, so it isn't even very old by European standards. It's the neighborhood where it sits that makes this church a hotspot.

Sacre Coeur sits on top of Montmartre a high point in Paris. It looks a bit like a mosque, which probably caused quite a stir back in the day. Although, I think the more controversial aspect of this church is the fact that the benefactors had themselves enshrined in the mosaic above the alter of posterity. Yep, right next to Peter, Paul, John, Matthew, Mark, Luke, Mary and Jesus himself are the people who raised the loot to build the church. So, high on the dome of the church are the apostles in their period clothes hob-knobbing with the muckety-mucks of Paris circa 1840.


We used Sacre Coeur as a jumping off point for a walk around Montmartre, the area of Paris made famous by artists like Picasso and Delacroix.

The morning went by with such precision, we finished our entire Paris itinerary by 1 p.m., so we decided to make it a full church day and visit La Madeliene. Looking more of a Greek temple than a Catholic church (ponder the ironies there for a minute), it was new to us and free to enter, therefore it fit the bill perfectly.

Many churches around Paris, including Notre Dame and La Madeliene display Christmas chreches for the public to view. La Madeliene did so in style. Please don't think I'm mocking religion, because I'm not. I am, however, laughing hysterically at the mustaches and eyebrows of the wise men:



The Paris Opera house was nearby and since the line was too long to tour the building the last time we walked by, we decided to give it another try. We were in luck! the grand staircase, marble work and general ornateness of the building truly is something to behold.



I was a little disappointed, though. We weren't able to poke our heads into the actual theater and see the mural on the ceiling by Marc Chagall because we would interrupt rehearsals.

Tonight, we're having a relaxing night in with friends, food and wine. Two of the gang left for home today and a few more leave tomorrow. Soon, it will be down to the basic five and we'll be on our way to Normandy.