Okay, I'll admit it. I have perhaps, and just as of late, mind you, grossly underestimated the appeal of urban America. I'm sure you will forgive me as I believe I am fair in professing that I am not alone in this mis-judgement. But still and all, I concede that I've had my share of recent love-affairs with the metropolises of the good ol' US of A (God bless her!) - Boston, Austin, San Francisco. Fully aware of the unfashionable nature of such entanglements I tried to resist! I truly did!
In my Canadian-esque interpretation of what makes a city fabulous I tend to measure the appeal of a city against the standard set by the most fabulous city on the planet, Montreal. Specifically, Montreal during the Festival International de Jazz de Montreal. I feel sorry for people who have never experienced the awesomeness of Montreal's Jazz Fest, but I digress.
Lack of jazz festivity aside, it's stellar details all the way for San Francisco. Firstly, 'if you're going to San Francisco' (sorry, I couldn't resist), be sure to stay at the Hotel Carlton on Sutter Street. I'd guess it's not everyone's cup of tea, but you are going to love it, as we sure did. It's reasonably priced, the staff are lovely, the location is excellent and the complimentary wine and cheese served in the lobby before dinner hour comes complete with entertainment featuring the musical stylings of the concierge. How perfect is that? Yes, look out, Montreal.
As we unfortunately, only had a day and a half to spend in San Francisco (but we will definitely be back), we barely had time to scratch the surface of the myriad of attractions and distractions the city has to offer. With some effort, we managed to cram in most of the not-to-be-missed touristy engagements - a stroll on Golden Gate Bridge, a ride on a street car, a visit to Lombard Street, Alcatraz, dinner at Fisherman's Wharf (which we were warned by a local to by-pass), a walk through China Town, window shopping in Union Square, taking in a view of the city from Twin Peaks, and browsing the shelves at City Lights Bookshop. We also ate a two spots featured on 'Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives', Grubsteak and the Golden Coffee Shop. Whew!
View my West Coast Road Trip Flickr set.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Pacific Coast Highway Road Trip, Day 4 - Ukiah to San Francisco, CA
We woke up on the fourth day of our road trip in Ukiah, California, in one of a string of equally forgettable hotels by the highway - the type of hotel that one ends up in when one is traveling with no specific itinerary save, 'let's wait 'til we're tired and then start looking for a place to stop'. This tactic, by the way worked fine for us in Ukiah but would later come back to bite us in the behind in a big way in beautiful, but outrageously overpriced, Gorda 'by the sea' (I'll get to that later).
One other point I should mention about ending up in Ukiah for the night, if you ever take this trip you will encounter a fork in the road along Highway 101 in Leggett, California. At this juncture (literally) you will be faced with making the difficult decision over whether to head west towards Fort Bragg and Highway 1 or continue on the 101 towards Ukiah and the Napa Valley. As I believe you will agree, such decisions are best left to the mindless, random workings of chance or, as I prefer, the abstract pull of simple whim and fancy. Thus, when the road divided before us, my mind ran to thoughts of Billy Bragg weighed against happy memories of drinking red wine out of the bottle around midnight bonfires on summer nights. What's a girl to do? When I later learned from a 'friend' on Facebook that the stretch of highway from Fort Bragg to San Francisco is the money spot as far as coastal views go, the blow was comfortably softened by the glow of the wine tasting we'd enjoyed at the Chateau St. Jean Winery (and the realization that there were plenty more coastal views ahead of us). That's all I have to say about it.
In my 'Sideways' tainted perception of California wine country, it turned out that wine tasting in Napa Valley was quite different than expected. Chateau St. Jean was much more polished and orderly than the rustic winery environment suggested in the film. Also, as we drove along the winding side roads leading off of the main highway, I half expected to pass Sandra Oh on a scooter (did she ride a scooter in that movie, or am I getting mixed up with some other movie?), but we, in fact, encountered very little evidence of scooters, philandering singles, or mid-life crisis burdened men acting younger than their age. But still and all, and I say this comfortably knowing that you will forgive the perhaps inappropriately low-brow flavour of such a comment, the wine was pretty tasty. Yes, it was. We purchased two bottles of 2006 Chateau St Jean Cabernet Sauvignon Sonoma County and a bottle of white truffle olive oil (that I believe was manufactured in France).
We arrived in San Francisco in the mid-to-late afternoon with plenty of time to snap some shots from the viewpoint at the north end of the Golden Gate Bridge, settle into our hotel, and take a short walking tour of the city that included Union Square and China Town. I'm going to leave it there because San Francisco is too fabulous a city to tack on some comments at the end of this blog post ('Gobsmacked, I tell you!). We'll save the details for next time.
View my West Coast Road Trip Flickr set.
One other point I should mention about ending up in Ukiah for the night, if you ever take this trip you will encounter a fork in the road along Highway 101 in Leggett, California. At this juncture (literally) you will be faced with making the difficult decision over whether to head west towards Fort Bragg and Highway 1 or continue on the 101 towards Ukiah and the Napa Valley. As I believe you will agree, such decisions are best left to the mindless, random workings of chance or, as I prefer, the abstract pull of simple whim and fancy. Thus, when the road divided before us, my mind ran to thoughts of Billy Bragg weighed against happy memories of drinking red wine out of the bottle around midnight bonfires on summer nights. What's a girl to do? When I later learned from a 'friend' on Facebook that the stretch of highway from Fort Bragg to San Francisco is the money spot as far as coastal views go, the blow was comfortably softened by the glow of the wine tasting we'd enjoyed at the Chateau St. Jean Winery (and the realization that there were plenty more coastal views ahead of us). That's all I have to say about it.
In my 'Sideways' tainted perception of California wine country, it turned out that wine tasting in Napa Valley was quite different than expected. Chateau St. Jean was much more polished and orderly than the rustic winery environment suggested in the film. Also, as we drove along the winding side roads leading off of the main highway, I half expected to pass Sandra Oh on a scooter (did she ride a scooter in that movie, or am I getting mixed up with some other movie?), but we, in fact, encountered very little evidence of scooters, philandering singles, or mid-life crisis burdened men acting younger than their age. But still and all, and I say this comfortably knowing that you will forgive the perhaps inappropriately low-brow flavour of such a comment, the wine was pretty tasty. Yes, it was. We purchased two bottles of 2006 Chateau St Jean Cabernet Sauvignon Sonoma County and a bottle of white truffle olive oil (that I believe was manufactured in France).
We arrived in San Francisco in the mid-to-late afternoon with plenty of time to snap some shots from the viewpoint at the north end of the Golden Gate Bridge, settle into our hotel, and take a short walking tour of the city that included Union Square and China Town. I'm going to leave it there because San Francisco is too fabulous a city to tack on some comments at the end of this blog post ('Gobsmacked, I tell you!). We'll save the details for next time.
View my West Coast Road Trip Flickr set.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Pacific Coast Highway Road Trip, Day 3 - Portland, OR to Ukiah, CA
Distance: 592mi
Driving time: 12 hours with frequent stops
We didn't actually see the coast until the third day of our trip. Isn't that strange? I mean, had you left London at the same time, you could've met up with us at that point.
There are, in all honest truth, no words to accurately describe the beauty of the Pacific Coast highway. In one day we saw beaches and caves carpeted with sea lions, trees larger than I'd ever imagined, herds of grazing, deceptively peaceful looking elk (apparently they can be extremely dangerous if approached on foot!), giant sand dunes, and all of it strung together with hundreds of miles of winding road skirting the edge of the pounding surf of the coast of the Pacific Ocean.
PCH haiku for D
Pacific coast road
technicolour dolby sound
and cheap gas to boot!
View my West Coast Road Trip Flickr set.
Driving time: 12 hours with frequent stops
We didn't actually see the coast until the third day of our trip. Isn't that strange? I mean, had you left London at the same time, you could've met up with us at that point.
There are, in all honest truth, no words to accurately describe the beauty of the Pacific Coast highway. In one day we saw beaches and caves carpeted with sea lions, trees larger than I'd ever imagined, herds of grazing, deceptively peaceful looking elk (apparently they can be extremely dangerous if approached on foot!), giant sand dunes, and all of it strung together with hundreds of miles of winding road skirting the edge of the pounding surf of the coast of the Pacific Ocean.
PCH haiku for D
Pacific coast road
technicolour dolby sound
and cheap gas to boot!
View my West Coast Road Trip Flickr set.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Pacific Coast Highway Road Trip, Day 2 - Portland, OR
I have been remiss! Remiss to the Nth degree! What kind of person am I that I would begin to recount a west coast road trip adventure only to leave you hanging after one measly day of travel, through rainy Washington and in the dark nonetheless! I know it's no excuse, but, you must forgive my lollygagging, I've been recovering from our time spent in Los Angeles. You know how it is.
But I get ahead of myself...
When last I wrote we were spending our first night (of two) in Portland at the Convention Center La Quinta. Unlike my perception of the bright and friendly Austin Airport La Quinta, where I happily sojourned during the SXSW conference in March, I'm afraid I don't have many good things to say about the Portland Convention Center La Quinta. It is cheap - with the $50 cash back 'Portland Perks' deal offered on the Travel Portland website, it was actually cheaper than some hostels I've stayed in...which to be fair were a great deal more dingy and stinky. Meh. I still wouldn't stay there again.
But let's not doddle on the less than stellar details! You and I prefer the amusing haberdashery of pleasant, loosely organized travel memories - e.g. 'Was that Bolivia or Switzerland?' - and the describing of aesthetically intriguing or culturally interesting finds that simply become more fabulous with the passing of time - e.g. ' The colours in the marketplace were so vibrant I was gobsmacked' on second telling to become 'I was completely gobsmacked' later to be followed by an emphatic, 'Gobsmacked, I tell you!'
And I will tell you, there are many fine things to appreciate about Portland - unless you compare Portland to San Francisco, but we'll get to that post in a few days. Anyway, taken on it's own, there are many fine things to appreciate about Portland and of all the fine things to appreciate - lovely architecture, interesting neighbourhoods, abundant evidence of the local population's regard of fine art, culture and all things environmentally friendly - what I appreciated most was the food. In my admittedly limited experience, Portland is an exceptional city when it comes to culinary offerings.
Our first real meal in Portland was at a comfy little diner in the city's trendy Pearl District called the Byways Cafe. At this point, I must make a confession that I fear may cast an unflattering light on our journey. That is, that I planned the restaurants we would visit based on one of my favourite Food Network TV shows, 'Diners, Drive Ins and Dives'. In case you're not familiar with this show, which I would guess to be the case, it features a boisterous, bleached-blond, red convertible driving Californian, named Guy Fieri, who tours around the US visiting famed local greasy spoons recommended by viewers where he samples America's 'best' over-sized and deep-fried diner specialties. You must forgive my shortcomings for referencing the 'p' word (plan) and the banality of scheduled television broadcasting, but time was short and a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do when she's traveling with a guy who's unfailing response to, 'What would you like to eat?' is, 'How 'bout A&W?' As recommended by Guy, we ordered the blue corn pancakes, which were every bit as good as he said they would be, and the 'Lumberjack' hash which was okay.
After our meal at Byways, we took part in an informative and entertaining walking tour called 'Underground Portland' offered by a tour guide company aptly named Portland Walking Tours. When the tour wrapped up, we decided to revisit one of the spots we passed during the tour, a little hole in the wall (literally) doughnut shop called Voodoo Doughnut. This was, in fact, not the first time we had returned to Voodoo Doughnut during the day as we had passed the shop numerous times while exploring the core area, each time hoping the forty-five minute lineup would diminish on our next pass, which never happened. We finally acknowledged we would either have to wait or forgo the experience. Well, the decision was obvious, of course. When we were finally admitted to the closet sized interior space, packed with bodies, punk music blaring, anticipation was high. Gladly, we were not disappointed by the array of choices on the chalkboard menu, awash with tantalizing, exotic combinations including maple glaze with bacon - well, hello?! why hadn't anyone thought of that one before - and our choice the 'Memphis Mafia', a banana fritter the size of a human head topped with peanut butter, chocolate sauce, chocolate chips, chopped peanuts and, for good measure, sugar glaze. It took us three whole days to eat most of that doughnut and we ended up throwing some of it away. My, it was good.
We had dinner at another 'Diners, Drive Ins and Dives' gem, Pok Pok, which unexpectedly features a menu of Thai street-food. Unfortunately, I'm tired and ready to go to bed so at this point, I'm afraid we're going to have to make due with my insistence that a meal at Pokpok alone is worth the drive from Victoria to Portland. Being the good, old friends that we are, I know you will know what I mean. Remember the fish and chips place at Tobermory I deemed good enough to warrant the drive from London? Well this is twice the distance. It's that good.
I know you're vegetarian, but I'm still going to recommend you try the chicken wings. Gobsmacked, I tell you!
View my West Coast Road Trip Flickr set.
But I get ahead of myself...
When last I wrote we were spending our first night (of two) in Portland at the Convention Center La Quinta. Unlike my perception of the bright and friendly Austin Airport La Quinta, where I happily sojourned during the SXSW conference in March, I'm afraid I don't have many good things to say about the Portland Convention Center La Quinta. It is cheap - with the $50 cash back 'Portland Perks' deal offered on the Travel Portland website, it was actually cheaper than some hostels I've stayed in...which to be fair were a great deal more dingy and stinky. Meh. I still wouldn't stay there again.
But let's not doddle on the less than stellar details! You and I prefer the amusing haberdashery of pleasant, loosely organized travel memories - e.g. 'Was that Bolivia or Switzerland?' - and the describing of aesthetically intriguing or culturally interesting finds that simply become more fabulous with the passing of time - e.g. ' The colours in the marketplace were so vibrant I was gobsmacked' on second telling to become 'I was completely gobsmacked' later to be followed by an emphatic, 'Gobsmacked, I tell you!'
And I will tell you, there are many fine things to appreciate about Portland - unless you compare Portland to San Francisco, but we'll get to that post in a few days. Anyway, taken on it's own, there are many fine things to appreciate about Portland and of all the fine things to appreciate - lovely architecture, interesting neighbourhoods, abundant evidence of the local population's regard of fine art, culture and all things environmentally friendly - what I appreciated most was the food. In my admittedly limited experience, Portland is an exceptional city when it comes to culinary offerings.
Our first real meal in Portland was at a comfy little diner in the city's trendy Pearl District called the Byways Cafe. At this point, I must make a confession that I fear may cast an unflattering light on our journey. That is, that I planned the restaurants we would visit based on one of my favourite Food Network TV shows, 'Diners, Drive Ins and Dives'. In case you're not familiar with this show, which I would guess to be the case, it features a boisterous, bleached-blond, red convertible driving Californian, named Guy Fieri, who tours around the US visiting famed local greasy spoons recommended by viewers where he samples America's 'best' over-sized and deep-fried diner specialties. You must forgive my shortcomings for referencing the 'p' word (plan) and the banality of scheduled television broadcasting, but time was short and a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do when she's traveling with a guy who's unfailing response to, 'What would you like to eat?' is, 'How 'bout A&W?' As recommended by Guy, we ordered the blue corn pancakes, which were every bit as good as he said they would be, and the 'Lumberjack' hash which was okay.
We had dinner at another 'Diners, Drive Ins and Dives' gem, Pok Pok, which unexpectedly features a menu of Thai street-food. Unfortunately, I'm tired and ready to go to bed so at this point, I'm afraid we're going to have to make due with my insistence that a meal at Pokpok alone is worth the drive from Victoria to Portland. Being the good, old friends that we are, I know you will know what I mean. Remember the fish and chips place at Tobermory I deemed good enough to warrant the drive from London? Well this is twice the distance. It's that good.
I know you're vegetarian, but I'm still going to recommend you try the chicken wings. Gobsmacked, I tell you!
View my West Coast Road Trip Flickr set.
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Pacific Coast Highway Road Trip, Day 1 - Victoria, BC to Portland, OR
Distance: 410km
Driving time: 1.5 hour ferry ride + 4 hours driving
Dear D!
I’ve decided to write my blog entries about our trip down the coastal highway to LA as if I was writing a letter to you. Partially because I particularly enjoy writing letters for you and partially because I suspect you may be the only person who reads my damn blog anyway.
So, to start at the beginning (I’m so sorry about that opening, but it’s what popped into my head and we’re going to go with it), which is right now, Baasje and I are waiting at the Coho ferry dock to catch the 4pm ferry to Port Angeles and Baasje is so bored he is cleaning his nails with a Swiss Army knife. ‘Does that bother you?’ he asks politely as I glance his way out of the corner of my eye. Then, ‘I wonder if they are going to show the hockey game on the ferry - they would if it were a Canadian Ferry.’ You get the picture. Why the seasoned Coho ferry folks would need us all to show up 90 minutes early to go through customs is beyond me. All it’s amounted to is a whole lotta waiting around and nail cleaning if you ask me.
…I decided to spare you an hour of me rambling on about the wait at the ferry dock and put my computer away. I won’t say much about the ferry experience, other than, the atmosphere on board reminded me of Sunday afternoons spent at the bowling alley with my father in the seventies and, if you ever happen to find yourself on this ferry, whatever you do, do not eat the food.
Oh, this is something you should find amusing - the ferry ride turned pretty rough towards the end of the crossing and we overheard the couple at the table next to ours in the cafeteria asking a passing ship’s officer if the borderline violent shifting was ‘normal’ to which he replied ‘I’m not nervous. Do I look nervous to you? When the staff starts looking nervous that’s when you have to worry.’ An answer which I expect would have put the couple at ease had it not been immediately followed by two cafeteria wait staff bursting out of the kitchen yelling ‘John! Stuff is breakin’ in there!’. Needless to say, I took a quick glance around for the nearest exit and took note of the axe mounted to the wall, should the need arise to break through a window in the event the ship capsized - thankfully, it did not.
The drive from Port Angeles to Portland ended up taking about 5 hours including a stop for a chicken fried steak supper in Tenino and 15 minutes of wrong turns after we got lost in Portland trying to locate our hotel. We took a pleasant route along ‘The Canal’ suggested to us by the cafeteria staff on the ferry - a winding two lane highway passing through a string of forest reserves and pretty lakes.
All in all it was pretty much what you'd expect on a first day of a road trip - the anticipation that comes with knowing the best of the trip is still ahead of us balanced by the relief of finally getting on the road. You know how it is.
View my West Coast Road Trip Flickr set.
Driving time: 1.5 hour ferry ride + 4 hours driving
Dear D!
I’ve decided to write my blog entries about our trip down the coastal highway to LA as if I was writing a letter to you. Partially because I particularly enjoy writing letters for you and partially because I suspect you may be the only person who reads my damn blog anyway.
So, to start at the beginning (I’m so sorry about that opening, but it’s what popped into my head and we’re going to go with it), which is right now, Baasje and I are waiting at the Coho ferry dock to catch the 4pm ferry to Port Angeles and Baasje is so bored he is cleaning his nails with a Swiss Army knife. ‘Does that bother you?’ he asks politely as I glance his way out of the corner of my eye. Then, ‘I wonder if they are going to show the hockey game on the ferry - they would if it were a Canadian Ferry.’ You get the picture. Why the seasoned Coho ferry folks would need us all to show up 90 minutes early to go through customs is beyond me. All it’s amounted to is a whole lotta waiting around and nail cleaning if you ask me.
…I decided to spare you an hour of me rambling on about the wait at the ferry dock and put my computer away. I won’t say much about the ferry experience, other than, the atmosphere on board reminded me of Sunday afternoons spent at the bowling alley with my father in the seventies and, if you ever happen to find yourself on this ferry, whatever you do, do not eat the food.
Oh, this is something you should find amusing - the ferry ride turned pretty rough towards the end of the crossing and we overheard the couple at the table next to ours in the cafeteria asking a passing ship’s officer if the borderline violent shifting was ‘normal’ to which he replied ‘I’m not nervous. Do I look nervous to you? When the staff starts looking nervous that’s when you have to worry.’ An answer which I expect would have put the couple at ease had it not been immediately followed by two cafeteria wait staff bursting out of the kitchen yelling ‘John! Stuff is breakin’ in there!’. Needless to say, I took a quick glance around for the nearest exit and took note of the axe mounted to the wall, should the need arise to break through a window in the event the ship capsized - thankfully, it did not.
The drive from Port Angeles to Portland ended up taking about 5 hours including a stop for a chicken fried steak supper in Tenino and 15 minutes of wrong turns after we got lost in Portland trying to locate our hotel. We took a pleasant route along ‘The Canal’ suggested to us by the cafeteria staff on the ferry - a winding two lane highway passing through a string of forest reserves and pretty lakes.
All in all it was pretty much what you'd expect on a first day of a road trip - the anticipation that comes with knowing the best of the trip is still ahead of us balanced by the relief of finally getting on the road. You know how it is.
View my West Coast Road Trip Flickr set.
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