"From golden gate to roaring cliff-side..."

The week before we went to CA I would constantly get suggestions from random people on where I had to go. When I went in to get an oil change for my car a teenage employee relaxing behind the desk heard the man helping me mention that I was going to California, and though he had previously been silent, he immediately piped up that I had to go to the boardwalk at Santa Cruz. It was on our way to Monterey, so why not? When we arrived, the clouds suddenly disappeared, as if they'd never been, and we were surrounded by sunburnt swimwearing vacationers strolling around barefoot, whiling away the hours along the shore. The boardwalk was not exactly what I'd been expecting... it wasn't a boardwalk. There were no boards to walk on, just cement. It was like a mini amusement park along the beach. A very noisy, pricey, sticky amusement park crowded with kids running headlong towards anything that lit up and made noise. Well, I wasn't too impressed, but still told myself "it's one of the oldest boardwalks in America, you can at least appreciate that." Beth had never been on a ferris wheel, so to the wheel we went. We then stole a ride on the historic carousel, which I enjoyed. After that, we decided there was nothing left but to walk through the surf back to the car and continue on our journey.

Have I mentioned how exhausted we are at this point, the beginning of our trip? Unfortunately none of us had had enough sleep upon leaving Provo. Well, we're just in the mood to find a sunny spot of beach and sleep for an hour or two. Sadly, as soon as we left Santa Cruz, the sun left too and it was a bit chilly to be sleeping outside. We ended up driving the 17-mile drive at Monterey and soon ransacking the trunk of the car for anything that would aid in our sleeping endeavors. Beth's sleeping bag, Emily's blanket, and our respective jackets woud have to be enough. I have found that catching a nap somewhere will connect me with a place. It may sound weird, but after my Europe experience with Logan and Sylvia where we caught cat naps everywhere we went, I learned that I feel closer to a place if I've slept there. Or at least just sat and pondered there. So sleeping by the Pacific sounded great to me. The 17-mile drive is this drive which you have to pay to get into, and so there were hardly anyone on the beaches-- not to mention that it was kind of cold to be at the beach... So we had this pocket of sand all to ourselves. We climbed onto a big rock, laid out the sleeping bag and blanket, snuggled up, and napped, lulled by the waves. An hour flew by, and it was time to be going. The 17-mile drive is home to some outrageously expensive houses, the Lone Cypress, and seals (sea lions? I still don't know the difference.) If you look closely at the picture above, you can see a seal looking at you. They camouflage well.

By this point Beth is in love with the cypress trees.

We drove through Cannery Row a few times, but parking is ridiculous, so we eat elsewhere and return to grab some Starbucks later. I did not want to leave Starbucks. The drive home sounded unbearable, and I wasn't even the one who had to drive. Cannery Row looked so lovely and inviting. Starbucks always makes me feel comfortable, no matter where in the world it is. For some weird reason I always feel at home there and I love it.

We finally made it back home to the cats and books and hideaway bed.

We didn't make it out that early the next morning, which was a San Francisco day. Our first stop was the Palace of Fine Arts. We were loosely following an itinerary Logan had made for me because Logan knows what I like better than a lot of people. But first we got a wee bit lost (a common theme in our trip) and we drove around some really nice neighborhood for a while. I was really glad we did this time because we saw some beautiful San Franciscan streets. I again wished for the eyeball cameras because I was driving and couldn't take pictures. Honestly, gorgeous streets here where every house was in the same style but delightfully unique. We saw a parking spot so decided to just park and walk to the Palace. As soon as we got out we discovered the daunting stairs we'd be descending (and ultimately ascending), but did that stop us? Surprisingly no. You really can't see them in this picture to the right, just trust me, there were a ton of them. We were greeted by a truly beautiful view of the view though. Do you see that dome in the distance in the picture on the left? That was our destination. Straight downhill.


On our way, we caught our first view of the Golden Gate. It actually sent a thrill through me, Anne Shirley style.

Well, the walk was totally worth it, the Palace of Fine Arts is just a place that's beautiful, basically, it's not the art museum. It was built for a fair a looong time ago, meant to be torn down once the fair was over, but people liked it so much they decided to leave it. It looks Greek, and it is just one of those places I immediately love. We trudged back up the hills, and had very friendly encounters with non-tourists. I must say, people in San Francisco were really nice. The hippie influence? There were a few flowers painted on the stairs... Anyway, not fakey like I sometimes feel Utahns are, and just genuinely really nice and easygoing. I think I would love living there for a while...