End of the Road

I am done!

Yesterday I finished up researching around Seattle. When there was one stop left to go, I lingered in Pioneer Square with a panino and a gelato. I've been reading Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier, and it was quite relaxing to open it while I half-people-watched and enjoyed my lunch. The only thing not relaxing about the situation was that I only had 11 minutes left on my Park-and-Pay ticket. Seattle doesn't have meters - you have to put money in at a little station, print a ticket with a time of return on it, and stick in on your window. That way it's more of a pain to add extra minutes, since you can't just refill a meter. I wished I didn't have that persistent sense of time ticking away as I took a break before my last stop.

But my stracciatella gelato was enough to make me forget. Stracciatella is translated to "chocolate chip" at most places, but it's so much more than chocolate chip. The chocolate is drizzled over the vanilla icecream and freezes on top, so when it is scooped out it breaks into bits. It has been my favorite flavor ever since the summer of 2006, which I spent kicking back in Venice and singing in Siena. Pioneer Square wasn't exactly San Marco, but I had my stracciatella so I could pretend.

The last place I checked out was called Mae Phim's, a little Thai restaurant tucked in below an on-ramp to I-5. The hostess answered my questions about hours and prices with a bored look, finally shrugging and handing me a to-go menu so I could investigate things for myself. It was an anti-climactic end, but as I crossed Coloumbia St. and climbed into the Focus, I felt a definite sense of accomplishment. Now I just had to type all that research up!

I have been staying with my parents' friend from Germany, when they lived there the first time before any of us kids were born. She is an outgoing, welcoming woman and has been absolutely wonderful to me. It is such a nice feeling to stay in a home after all those motels. Two nights ago we went to dinner in Alki, a beach peninsula in West Seattle. The view is of Seattle, and since it was a clear day we could see everything:

See the Space Needle, just off center? It was a nice juxtoposition to have the beach, with volleyball nets and umbrellas, with the city in the distance. We ate on the upper deck of a restaurant right on the water, enjoying our salmon as the sun set:
Last night we went out to dinner again, this time in Renton, the suburb in which she lives. It's right on Lake Washington, so we had a nice waterfront walk after dinner. When we arrived at the restaurant, there was a band playing rocked out Irish music and people dancing just outside. The scene was the epitome of a small-town summer evening, and I was glad to be a part of it for that time. Here are some shots of Lake Washington:

So that's it! I am catching a plane at 2pm back to Los Angeles for my next (albeit, far less avidly documented) adventure. I am not looking forward to returning my little red Focus - it seems only yesterday I put its meter over 300 miles. I've added over 3000 pacific coast miles in the past month. I bet that Focus had never seen anything as lovely as the views from the ridges I parked it along when I hopped out to take pictures. It's going to be strange driving another car (when this blog went to print, the exact car was yet to be determined) and not having my whole life stashed in the trunk.

Thanks, West Coast - it's been a ride!

Days 25-26

I made it to Seattle! I feel quite accomplished, as I've just changed my flight so that I'll be arriving back in Los Angeles on Thursday afternoon. The past couple of days I've been so under the weather that I haven't felt like getting out of bed - it's been very disheartening. Although my stomach has been lurching with every turn in the road, the views along the Washington coast have not disappointed:There is so much driftwood on these beaches!
I pulled over to photograph this lake and was immediately accosted by men who were fishing, apparently illegally. They begged me not to take pictures of them and their misdeeds. Confused, I told them it didn't bother me a bit if they fished in that lake - I was just a tourist! Then they relaxed and offered me a burger, which I declined. My mystery illness had rendered me almost too weak even to stumble across the road to take pictures, let alone to keep down a hamburger grilled by rogue fishermen.

The weather in Seattle is absolutely beautiful and is cheering me up immensely. Today I explored the city, from the famous Experience Music Project to the University neighborhood. Seattle reminds me of Boston a lot, especially because of all the bikers. But when I shared my thoughts with the manager at the Moore Hotel, where I stayed last night, he shook his head and laughed. "Everyone in Seattle is much more... casual," he assured me.

I said I hoped he wasn't implying that I was UP-TIGHT or anything like THAT simply because I was from BOS-ton. JEEZ.

I enjoyed a delicious bowl of oatmeal and a side of people-watching at Pike's Place this morning. It's right on the water, where all types of vendors and stores are clustered along one strip. Bustling places like that really appeal to me, and I found it relaxing to blend into the crowd. I am interested in settling in Seattle later, at least for a bit. I realize it's not usually this sunny, but it seems generally cozy and welcoming, even more so than San Francisco and its treacherous hills. So far, Seattles roads have not tried to kill me.

Days 23-24

The past two days have been a little depressing, since I still feel sick. My body seems confused as to whether it needs to be fed or would prefer to reject food all together... I've been eating bland things like crackers and bread so as not to offend my cranky stomach.

But yesterday was Independence Day, so I tried to stay cheery. In the morning I researched the town of Cannon Beach. After the first stop, Stella got confused and thought a side street connected to Route 101, when really it led to a big "Dead End" sign. Frustrated, I turned Stella off and decided to try to find my own way. I realized I was in trouble when I had to slam on the brakes to avoid running over a small child whose face was painted like an American flag. The child was scampering back to the bed of a truck that had been decorated in all kinds of horrendous red, white, and blue streamers and paints, resulting in quite the patriotic monstrosity. It was one of many similar trucks... it was a float.

It was a parade.

Panicking, I tried to back up but realized, to my horror, that I was surrounded. Children dashed by, seemingly amock, as their stressed-out mothers tried to organize everyone into a procession of some kind. I rolled down my window and asked a kind-looking old woman how to get back to Route 101. She laughed, "It looks like you're going to be in the parade!"

No, I certainly was not going to be in the parade. I couldn't prevent the fleeting idea that -well - the Focus was red, so at least I would fit into the whole theme if worse came to worst. Shaking the thought, I painstakingly maneuvered the car through the throng, feeling horribly rude and unpatriotic as the townspeople's smiling, confused faces filled me with guilt. A good half-hour later, I emerged onto Route 101 and continued to Seaside.

Seaside was having a festival of its own, but thankfully not one through which I had to drive. I stayed in a hostel right downtown, and after typing up my research from the morning, I headed down to the water to check out the party. I bought an ice cream to help myself get in the mood, but as I wandered through the crowd, I couldn't help feeling overwhelmingly lonely. Everyone knows you don't want to spend Christmas alone, but nobody really thinks about the 4th of July. I had no one with whom to watch the band of middle-aged would-have-beens as they rocked out 80s-style on the stage. I didn't bother buying fried dough, because I knew I wouldn't be able to eat the whole thing and I had no one with whom to share it, laughing as we got powdered sugar down the fronts of our shirts. I ordered a burger for dinner and it was delicious, but I wished it had been grilled by my dad out on our deck.

There were fireworks at 10pm, but I didn't stay downtown for them because I didn't want to have to walk back to the hostel alone in the dark. I got into bed at about 9:45pm, and was the only person in the dorm room besides a cranky, elderly woman with whom I had had an altercation earlier in the night. She had come in at about 8:30 and asked if I would mind turning off the light, since she had to wake up early to go to work. Of course I told her it would be no problem, but she felt compelled to share a tidbit of wisdom before turning in.
She pointed at me and said, "Us poor people have to work for a living!" I nodded, and smiled kindly. She continued, "Listen up, little missy. As a woman, you've got two choices: be poor, or put up with a man!"
I was so taken aback by the ridiculousness of this idea that I laughed aloud. "Well, I'm going to make my own fortune, and then a man will have to put up with me!" I retorted.
Her jaw dropped and she glared at me before shaking her head and getting into bed.

Now I tried to fall asleep as she snored across the room. I heard the first boom of the fireworks and reached for my earplugs. As I sat up in bed, I saw explosions of color in the black sky outside, and realized I had a front row seat to the fireworks! I sat on the bunkbed, watching the whole show out the window of the dorm room, until the finale. This was more like the 4th of July.

Today I made it to Washington! As soon as I crossed the border, it started to rain, confirming the prejudice I held against Washington state. But it was beautiful rain, accentuating the lush greenness of the foliage. It was the type of rain that made me want to be inside the cottage my family has in Plymouth, watching it fall on the pond from behind a screened window. Instead I watched it fall on the Columbia River and the marshes that seemed to border every mile of highway.

It was the first day it's rained on this trip, and although it was lovely, I realized how much I've taken the sunshine for granted. As I arrived at each location to research, I suffered an internal struggle between the side of me that wants to get work done and the side of me that hates getting the bottoms of my jeans wet and fears pneumonia. The dedicated-to-my-job side always won, so by the time I got to the town of Aberdeen, where I'm staying, I was soaked to the skin and the inside of the car was starting to smell musty.

So all in all, my first impression of Washington was a little disappointing (much like that of the settlers who named Cape Disappointment, I suppose), but don't worry, Washington! Tomorrow is a brand new day.

Days 21-22

Last night I stayed in the most wonderful hotel in the whole world. I remember having dreams when I was a little girl in which I was exploring a big house, and each room had some new kind of Candyland-esque adventure behind the door waiting for me. Well, that's what the Sylvia Beach Hotel in Newport, Oregon is like, only it satisfied not my inner 7-year-old with fluffy clouds and cotton candy mountains, but my current, nerdy English-major self: each room is themed like a famous author. Because I told her I was writing for a travel guide, the proprietress let me explore the other rooms that were uninhabited at the moment. I went on a spree through all four floors of the house, opening each door and marveling at its creative, unique decorations. Here are a few of the best.

The Tennessee Williams Room:The Tennessee Williams room had its own little glass menagerie, which tugged on the heartstrings in the little corner of my heart reserved for my senior thesis:
The Shakespeare room:
Complete with this fantastic little joke:
The sign above the sink says, "Out! Out damned spot!" so you can pretend to be murderess-turned-nutcase Lady MacBeth as you wash your hands! Fun for all ages. Here's the Emily Bronte Room:
My room was the Tolkien Room, and even though it was one of the less expensive because it doesn't have beach views, I think it's the coolest. This is what the door to the room looks like: Here's what it looks like behind the door:
And the whole room is very detailed, like the sink decorations:
And what I think is a map of Middle Earth sketched on the wall (forgive me, Lord of the Rings fanatics, for not knowing what this is for sure):One of my favorites was the Agatha Christie Room:

One room that I didn't get to go inside was the Edgar Allen Poe Room. It was closed because someone was staying there, news that suprised me. I wouldn't be able to sleep a wink in a room that's decorated with a raven "perched upon a bust of Pallas," a huge blade precariously dangling over the bed, and a false doorway that's been boarded up with bricks. I shared my feelings with the proprietress and she laughed and said, "Well, you turn the lights out to go to sleep, so you can't see all those things!"
...maybe. But I would still know that raven was there, looking at me, and quothing "Nevermore" at me.

Today I had a bit of a meltdown, as my allergies kicked in and my right eye started running and itching. Yuck. I also got a terrible headache as I drove, so I didn't even enjoy the cheese samples in Tillamook. When I arrived at the Old Wheeler Hotel in Wheeler, Oregon, I was in a terrible mood and just felt like passing out.

But then I entered the Bed and Breakfast, and my day changed. Maren and Winston, the proprietors, are absolutely adorable and so energetic about their little town. My room is just darling, and it has a bathtub. They hung a sign outside the door that says, "Welcome, Meghan!" That made me smile. I decided to get some more researching done, so I drove a mile down the road to the Nehalem Bay Winery. The woman there was friendly, and gave me a free tasting of sweet whites. I commented on how tasty the Riesling was, and she exclaimed, "Oh! Well, here, take a bottle!" I couldn't believe it. Now I have a 3-step plan for the rest of the afternoon:

1) Draw a bath.
2) Pour myself of glass of my free Riesling.

3) Take a bath and drink the Riesling.

There might be another step involved, such as watch one of the DVDs they have here, or curl up with a book. I haven't yet decided.

Day 20

Today I got to Oregon! I drove through the rest of the Redwood Forests, through extreme fog, this morning. I felt very earthy-crunchy as I snacked on the fruit-and-nuts granola mix I'd purchased for breakfast, weaving between the huge trees. The last restaurant I had to research in California was a little dive called the Palm Diner in Orick. Outside the diner I saw this lovely sign:That put me in a fantastic mood. "Bye, California!" I said. "Thanks for the blessing!" Then I hopped in my little car and sped off (not to worry, California, I'm coming back in 2 weeks). Oregon always has been one of those random places that I'll never go. Well, I'm here. And I was welcomed into the state by this breathtaking view:
Here I am, once again posing in nature. Check out that awesome estuary behind me!
I arrived in the tiny town of Bandon-by-the-Sea around dinnertime, and checked into the "hotel" in which I'm sitting right now. Yes, the room only costs $25 for the night. But no, it does not have any more amenities than your average jail cell at a state prison. There is one bunkbed and about ten square feet of space that is not occupied by said bunkbed. The man at the front desk kindly told me that he would not put anyone else in this little cell with me for the night. That made me relax a little bit, because sharing a room this size with another person would be quite awkward. I do, however, share the bathroom with a 60-year-old man named Bob who is a caddy by profession and lives in the little cell next door all summer. He seems like a pretty friendly guy, but I am for some reason terrified of bumping into him in the bathroom. To avoid any such situation, I brushed my teeth after dinner in the bathroom at the restaurant, ignoring the stares of the other patrons who probably thought I was homeless.

After dinner, tragedy struck. I returned to my car to deposit my carry-out box (filled with lunch for tomorrow, of course) in the trunk. Then I went for a walk along the pier and called Latina Lova to complain about how I don't yet have a job in LA. She convinced me that it's normal to be unemployed when you're just out of college, and calmed me down a bit. Then I returned to my car to get my overnight bag and realized... I didn't have my keys.

No.

Were they in the restaurant where I had eaten? I ran back to check, but the friendly waitstaff apologetically told me they hadn't seen any keys. I retraced my steps along the pier, tears welling up in my eyes as I contemplated having to call the rental car agency to ask for a duplicate key, and the costs that would no doubt imply. I didn't realize the gravity of my situation until I looked up and saw this in the window of a store:

Those are fake little cats and dogs, and the sign in the corner says, "We actually breathe!" Horrified, I backed away - was I really going to be stuck in a town that allowed those things to exist within it?! I called AAA, hoping that I had locked the keys in the trunk when I dropped off my carry-out box from dinner.

An hour later, Clyde from Clyde and Slide towing showed up, ready to jimmy my lock. Well, once we got the car open, Clyde and I discovered that there was no way to open the trunk from within the car. He didn't have the equipment to drill the lock out of the trunk, and reported that to get the equipment would take waiting for another guy to show up. Desperate, I noticed a little handle on the side of the backseat and tugged on it - voila! The backseat came foward and I could see into the trunk.

Clyde stood by as I crawled into the trunk from the inside of the car, rummaging around through all my possessions. I thanked my lucky stars that Clyde was not a crazy person who would slam the seat back up while I was inside, locking me in the trunk in the dark (inconveniently, the trunk light is not triggered when you enter from the other end). Finally, my fingers closed around the car keys, and I cried with joy. I would not be stuck in Bandon-by-the-Sea, with the horrible little fake breathing animals! I would continue on my way.

Day 19

Today I was driving from Mendocino along the coast, before I hit the Redwood Forests. As the road bent around the side of a cliff, I slammed on the brakes in order to avoid hitting this guy: and his two friends, who were socializing in the middle of the road. I was afraid that they would head-butt me or something if I tried to get out to take a picture, so I decided to stay safely in the car! Soon into my drive, I realized I was close to empty on gas. That was dangerous because I doubted there would be anywhere to fill up in the next 50 miles or so. But just as I was getting nervous that I was going to have to hitch a ride on the back of my new bovine friend, I saw a gas station up ahead... with the worst prices I have seen yet:
I was so shocked that as I pumped, I said aloud to the man at the next pump, "Can you believe it? This is outrageous?" He glared at me, and that's when I realized he was filling up a Suburban, eyeing my tiny little Focus (which gets up to 35 miles per gallon on the freeway!) resentfully. I swallowed loudly and concentrated on gripping the gas pump.

Once I entered the Redwood Forests, I realized that the low-hanging fog that had been surrounding me throughout my drive so far was turning black. How strange, I thought. Then I saw the sign up ahead next to the road, with flashing letters that read, "FIRE AHEAD."
Hm.
What was I supposed to do with that information? I'd just been traveling for almost 2 hours along a winding road that was so reminiscent of a certain Mind Eraser rollercoaster that I was beginning to feel nauseated. The sign didn't say, "TURN BACK!" and there were no road blocks, so I continued on, more cautiously. I pulled over for a bathroom break at one of the many roadside turn-offs marked by creepy painted bears carved out of Redwood trees, and found this little gem:
That saying happens to be one of TWO PHRASES that I know how to say in German. The first phrase is: "Ich spreche kein Deutsch." (That means: I speak no German." The second phrase is: "Jeder muss an etwas glauben. Ich glaube, ich habe noch ein Bier." (See picture about for translation.) It's not random that I know that phrase - my dad, who kind of speaks German, taught it to me at a young age. I don't know why, but I remembered it. I marvel at the idea that, in the past 2 days, I have encountered 2 very random phrases that have reminded me of each of my parents.

As I drove on through the Redwood Forests, I decided it was time for another photo shoot. Here I am posing next to one of the biggest trees I've ever seen:

P.S. The answer to the pressing question that is no doubt bothering you is: YES, I looked like an absolute fool pressing the self-timer button on my camera and then sprinting that long distance to stand in front of the tree.

Days 17 and 18

I just had an hour-long conversation with Sangria Stalker about whether the anatomy of a Ninja Turtle would validate or hinder the obvious sexual tension between Rafael and April. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, it's probably because you haven't lost your mind.

I lost mine today when my third audio book finished. This one was Ken Follet's World Without End, and it was 14 hours long on 12 CDs, read by the wonderful John Lee. It finished while I was driving along the coast, and I felt like I had lost a friend. Not a dear friend like Stella, of course, but John Lee's voice had become soothing to me, like the presence of another person in the car... a person who, admittedly, only wanted to tell me the story of the prosperous town of Kingsbridge, set in 14th-century England.

My first idea as to how to ameliorate the newfound silence within my little car was to turn on the radio... but, silly me, radio waves don't reach the middle of nowhere. For the first time, I experienced the feeling of utter bewilderment that comes from pressing "scan" and watching the digital numbers race by, never stopping, for minutes on end. So, to pass the time, I had conversations with Stella about where we were going. She, too, was not very entertaining, since there were no turns coming up.

It wasn't always like this. In fact, just yesterday I was touring wineries in Napa! What a blast. I had chosen some good ones from my research, and one even gave me a free tasting. I've never been able to understand how people can talk so seriously about something as inconsequential as wine, but the landscape was so beautiful that even I got a bit caught up in the whole culture of it. Here's a picture of some of the vines at the Robert Mondavi winery:

After that, it was all wilderness. My next stop was Point Reyes Station, which is a natural reserve that juts out into the Pacific. The hostel where I stayed was six miles away from "civilization," if the tiny town of Point Reyes counts as such. But, as usual, the views were spectacular:
Here I am coexisiting with nature quite peaceably:
I really loved this hostel. Unlike most of the other hostels I've stayed at, which have been populated by international students, here the guests were of all different ages and just seemed to be outdoorsy types. This bumper sticker caught my eye:In case you don't have superhero eyes, it says: "It will be a great day when our schools get all the money they need and the air force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber." My mom has a T-shirt with that same message on it from the early 80s when we lived in Germany and she worked at a school on an air force base! I wonder if the owners of this minivan lived at that base, or if merchandise with this message is now in mass production? Anyway, sleeping in a bunkbed in the wilderness, I was reminded of the good ole days at Camp Calumet Lutheran, and really got into the whole middle-of-the-woods mood.

I woke up early this morning because I knew I had a lot of driving to do to get to Mendocino (where I am now). Here's the coast just north of Point Reyes at 7:30am:
Once I got to Mendocino, I was able to buy another audio book (thank GOODNESS!), so I am all set for the drive to Eureka tomorrow. I might try to get all the way to the Redwood Forest, because I am so excited about exploring it. And no, not just because it's referenced in "This Land is My Land."