There and Back Again - A Road Trip to Dallas: Part 1

Cotton Valley, Texas

There is a thin line between "somewhere" and "nowhere", and we found out recently that much of America flirts with this distinction. Driving endlessly through the desert, passing towns like Seligman, Arizona or Clyde, Texas I began to wonder - where are we? And how much does it really matter?

Our good friends are in the midst of remodeling their townhouse, and asked my contractor hubby, Jordi, to come help with the bathroom. Always up for an adventure - and besides, a subsidized trip to the Southwest and a chance to see our friends was a good package deal - we packed up the car and headed east.
Leaving the smog and fog behind early on a Friday morning, we were almost to Arizona by the time the sun came up. The sunrise was beautiful, the desert was stunning, we could feel freedom in our blood and wide open spaces were making our hearts happy. And then of course, "Why is that cop behind me?" "Is he pulling me over??" Ah yes, welcome to Arizona, land of "Drop the Speed Limit  At The Border and Give Tickets to all the Suckers from California".
So that put a huge damper on the drive, and we couldn't wait to get out of Arizona, even though they apparently have some great fossils you can go see off the freeway (They accept credit cards).

Firework display in New Mexico

The cactus deserts of Arizona gave way to red dirt mesas, and we were in New Mexico.  Their unofficial motto is "it ain't new and ain't Mexico", and no one seemed to care too much about nitpicking speed. One travel stop (these 'travel stops' are like mini towns - gas, bathrooms, food, ceramics, clothes, you name it) had a room full of fireworks with a banner saying "FIREWORKS! Year 'Round Awesomeness". We decided we liked New Mexico. We were even planning on staying in a little city called Las Cruces, next to some mountains, but alas, our exit was blocked off by barricades and before we knew what was happening we were being whisked away down the freeway, with no other exits for miles. Since we refused to backtrack on this endless trip, we just kept going. I wailed a bit because by this time it was dinner time, and we had been driving since 5 a.m.. I desperately wanted to jump in a pool, eat and go to bed. But we were still driving!

What do you do while in El Paso?
Why, get yourself some double dipped
spicy hot wings in a train car!

We drove for about 45 minutes until we realized we were in El Paso, practically able to touch Mexico on the other side of the freeway. We searched our phone internet for a hotel that had an outdoor pool and free breakfast, which led us to the Hampton Inn.
After a refreshing swim, we asked the concierge for the best place to eat. She pointed us in the direction of some double dipped spicy hot wings in this cute, albeit tiny, train car. The wait took forever at this local hotspot, but it was fatteningly delicious!


The next morning we feasted on waffles and coffee before loading up the car again. In front of us was ten more hours of Texas before we would finally reach Dallas. The countryside was dry, with bushes and low hills. Even in March, it was already pretty hot.

If you've ever been on a long car trip, weird things start to happen. For instance, my thumb was actually SORE from using Jordi's phone. Approximately every 45 seconds, I would check the map to see how far we'd come. I'd zoom in to see the exits we were passing, and zoom out to make it look like we were making progress. Then I'd show him our progress, and he'd either groan or smile. Listen to another couple minutes of Bill Bryson on our book on tape, and then excitedly remember to refresh the page and check our progress. I'm pretty sure I dreamed about Google Maps that night. The blue arrow.....

America the vast and beautiful!

After many hours of listening to "The History of Almost Everything" in a British accent, which bordered between Torture and Better Than Nothing for me, but which Jordi quite enjoyed (and since he's the driver...) we fiiiiiinnnnaaaaallllllyyyyyy found ourselves on a freeway. I mean a freeway with many lanes and lots of cars. It was exhilarating. It wasn't long before we pulled up at my best friend's parent's house in a suburb of Dallas. After sweaty hugs, we showered and ate, before following Corrie and Jason back to their place in downtown Dallas. They had just gotten back from a trip to Europe, getting in at the airport only hours before we showed up. So we were all a sorry mess, and headed straight to bed.

In the morning I was pleasantly surprised to find myself in the middle of America's ninth largest city, and all I could hear were the birds chirping. Every so often a plane would fly over. Then I thought of our little apartment near the ocean (but nearer still to the freeway, PCH, a hardware store and three banks) and how ungodly loud it is - and it's not even in a city! Arrrgg! Anyways, that day was spent demolishing the bathroom, and my best friend and I helped our hubbies as best we could (mostly carrying trash out while giggling like annoying schoolgirls. The best thing about a best friend is how hilarious and cool you think eachother is, even when the whole rest of the world is rolling their eyes.) The next few days were spent hanging out in the city while the men toiled away in a little bathroom. Poor Jordi hadn't even seen anything of Dallas, while I was off having cappuccino's, going on walks and being driven around town.

All that said, the last day we were there we took care of some important stuff. We got to see the grassy knoll where Kennedy was shot, visit some fun restaurants and neighborhoods, and of course walk on the Katy Trail - a dirt nature path that winds through the city. We then had drinks at the Katy Trail Ice House - who's genius idea was it to put a bar on the running trail? It was so nice to see all the healthy young Texans run by as we sipped our beer. They have games like corn hole and darts you can play too, but we just sat on the picnic tables under the twinkly lights in the early evening on a Gorgeous spring day in Texas. We had amazing weather the whole time we were there. Kinda made us want to move there - nice people, adorable (and affordable) houses, cool city - what's not to like?? But the reason my bf and her hubby are moving is it gets crazy hot, and there is not much to do outside the city. No other towns, lakes, oceans or mountains to visit and explore - just Texas for days. We should know!

Katy Trail Ice House with Corrie and Jason

Gloria a Dios Ferretería de Paz

We wanted to go to El Salvador to get away, and that we did. We got to drink coffee and chat for hours, surf in the warm water, eat pupusas and desayunos típicos. But perhaps one of the most relaxing aspects of our trip was being around the Salvadoran people and culture. After a couple weeks of random observations, I began to see a new way of living. Although American culture and society may not allow for some things I think are awesome (loud, crowded, musical colorful busses) I realized there are ways we can apply this new perspective in our everyday life.

Random Observations:
The huge sign advertising the Praise the Lord Hardware Store of Peace
The restaurant we ate at every day where people could not only smoke but drop their cigarette butts onto the sand, while swinging  in hammocks
The construction workers tromping around in flip-flops
A friendly teenager who paddled past me in the water while surfing, wondering how old I was and if I had kids yet

It doesn't take long to realize that things are different here. The people don't stress out, they roll with it. They're hard working, but unhurried. If you're offended at the store name, that's your problem. If there are burning embers on the ground, you need to watch where you're going. It's not judgmental, simply curiosity when asking about one's age, family planning, etc. Their whole culture allows them to be unapologetic, which is so refreshing to be around.

For me, getting away from the litigious, paranoid about stepping on anyone's toes, annoyingly PC world we live in, it was heaven to be around people who assume you're capable enough to handle life. (Even the dogs are allowed to look out for themselves.)

We tend to stress ourselves out by focusing so much attention on things that don't really matter, as well as forcing things to happen instead of rolling with the punches.
One of the places we stayed had a popular wave, which inevitably means swarms of Brazilians. Brazilians are the only culture in our experience that travel in packs of 20. So after a few days of being in a what felt like a Portuguese frat house, but was actually the line-up, we were excited to meet some Americans. Until they started talking.... "The chef cannot get it through his head that I'm vegan! How many times do I have to say, 'No kay-so'?" or "Could I get the fried fish, but not fried?" or the tourist watching a local lady make pupusas, but when asked if she wants one responds, "oh, nooooooo, i'm gluten intolerant."
But instead of catering to the picky Americans, Salvadorans view pickiness as the problem of the picky person.
The chef doesn't care if you don't eat cheese and the pupusa lady doesn't care if you're gluten intolerant.
I like this way of living, because it reinforces the notion that things don't actually matter as much as we let them. Like when a kid runs into something and looks at you to see if they should cry or not. If you fuss, they'll scream; if you ignore the incident, so will they. We live in a fussy screamy society, and it's become exhausting. I can't change society, but I can live my own life without being a fusser or screamer - there is too much life to live to worry about the kind of milk someone puts in my coffee.

Likewise, instead of fretting about unessential matters, Jordi and I should instead know who and what matters to us, focus on that, and not apologize if our decisions don't align with the world's figurative dietary restrictions.

Our new deliberate and hopefully slower lifestyle ensues... ;)

Kids fishing on the river

Riding the bus

Enjoying the beautiful beaches

Enjoying the beautiful sunset

What Wonders Await the Homebodies

West coast of France, central coast of California, plot of land on the beach in El Salvador - these are just some of the places Jordi and I dream about living someday. Those times when our crazy neighbor is calling the cops/city/property management company about our trashcans being visible or Jordi's trailer  parked on the street for more than the lawful five hours, or when we're woken up by leaf blowers and trash trucks in the morning, or when we can't drive anywhere without being caught in hours of thick traffic, we get this claustrophobic feeling like we have to escape the crazy. But then there are times like a lazy, rainy Sunday in April when it seems like all our wildest dreams can be met in just one place - home. Home for us at the time is San Clemente, California, a little town by the beach in south Orange County.

Enjoying the day in France

On this particular lazy, rainy Sunday in April, we woke up to the light rain and complete quiet except some chipper birds. Sunday is the only day of the week we have respite from the leaf blowers and hardware store noise (we live next to a Denault's). A couple hours later, we walked downtown in the light rain for the weekly Farmer's Market. After sampling apples and candied nuts, purchasing farm eggs, fresh fish and produce we went across the street to Mimosa, one of our favorite café's, to get cappuccinos and the homemade chocolate croissants they offer on Sundays. Smattering of French spoken (it's a French restaurant, after all), a drizzly day, crowded cafe, Farmers Market outside - all set the stage for a perfect morning in France. As Monsieur with the Mustache handed us our steaming cappuccinos and croissants wrapped at the bottom in paper, we made our way back outside, the buttery warmth seeping through the paper onto our hands. It reminded me of outdoor markets, bustling cafes and the joy of eating amazing things that comes with being in France.

Love riding bikes in SLO

In the afternoon we went on a bike ride to a local brewery. While on the central coast we would probably be wine tasting instead of beer tasting, we would be riding our bikes all the same. An overcast afternoon, biking up the hills with views of the yellow wildflowers, stopping in at a local establishment that doesn't care how you're dressed or your mode of transportation, but wants you to enjoy the fruits of their labor - well, we almost could have been on the central coast!

Papusas and beer in El Salvador

Later, as we were expecting company for dinner, we decided to go to the Mexican market to get some supplies. It's a small store but with lots packed in: Fresh guacamole, pico de gallo and salsas, long rows of fresh or dried peppers, tortillas still steaming in the bags, cotija cheese cut and sold by the pound. But the best part is the house-made pork rump, fried and brewing for hours in lard and spices, only available on Saturdays and Sundays. We got the meat, perfect for carnitas, and all the other delicious makings of an authentic latin meal. As we sat on the porch drinking Tecate and eating chips, it felt like we could have been in El Salvador (if only it was a little warmer and there was surf...)
So although we don't as yet own houses in three different countries, we live in a place where we can order cappuccino's and croissants in French, buy fresh carnitas and guacamole in Spanish and bike around the hills, almost as well as in the central coast. And if we can do all that in one day, and in one town, we have it pretty good. (Sorry neighbor, you're stuck with us for awhile...)

What Weddings Await the Wandering Ones

     So I haven't written in a few months. I'm sure you must be on the edge of your seat wondering, Have they found any new hiking trails? A great, cheap date we must try? A new culinary experience to embark on? An awesome little town, exciting day trip or quiet camping spots? I apologize profusely for keeping you waiting. While I'm glad to report that we have indeed found new hikes, camping spots, interesting foods and little towns, they haven't been "Adventures" so much as "Wedding Weekends".

     An interesting thing has happened - although we usually have a few weddings to attend here and there, this year we will have attended 8 weddings, from San Diego to the Central Coast, in the span of 9 months! Who needs vacation plans when you get a built-in weekend away per month for a whole year? In fact, I'm thinking of starting a Calendar. It will feature Jordi and I in our wedding attire, each month. Here's a preview:

August

October

November

December

August saw Jordi's youngest brother get married, the event being held in his grandparents awesome backyard in the hills of Encinitas (north county San Diego). Our culinary experience here was taco carts. I don't know exactly where they found them, perhaps off the street in Michoacan, because they were incredibly authentic and soooo delicious! If you have yet to experience street food or food trucks, I highly recommend finding some. 

As for San Clemente, street food comes in the form of a grocery truck that pulls up on our street every evening at 6. You can get produce, roasted corn with mayo, cheese and chile, or fried pork skins. And our little town even has food trucks! Every Monday night at the San Clemente High School, as a fundraiser for the band, you can find 4-6 food trucks ranging from lobster to BBQ or crepes. Check out  the schedule here.

From 9-2 every Saturday at the OC Mart Mix in Costa Mesa, not only can you enjoy the Farmer's Market, but also a selection of awesome food trucks. Definitely worth the drive one of these weekends! Plus check out the OC Mart Mix while you're there! Portola Coffee Lab is worth the drive itself, and Local Fare sells Roney Macaroni cards! :) 

(And the taco carts mentioned earlier are actually from the catering company in San Diego, Taquizas El Unico)

In October we attended a wedding in Paso Robles. On our way home we stopped through Los Olivos, north of Santa Barbara off the gorgeous 154 pass. If you've never been here, you definitely owe it to yourself to stop next time you drive past. Even if you only have an hour to spare, you can have a truly romantic date. Park anywhere, walk through the quaint town, taste wine at one of the many small and friendly tasting rooms, get a giant sandwich at the Deli, lay in the park, poke around the shops, and there you have it! We always love a little stop here - feels like spending a weekend when it's just an afternoon. 

In November, we were honored to be a part of a gorgeous wedding in Balboa Park, San Diego. Beautiful architecture and stunning gardens made for quite the experience. If you've never been to Balboa Park, I wrote about it here on a trip we took there last year.

December we attended a winter wedding in Morro Bay. The rain didn't keep anyone from enjoying some homemade brews and steaming Mexican food. We stayed in Cayucos, one of our favorite little enclaves on the whole coast of California.

I wrote about Cayucos on my blog a while ago, entitled Small Town Bliss and mentioned it once again about a year ago, called Taste of the Central Coast.

And then, to top it all off, we got to meet our new nephew this winter as well. Here we are with precious Zachary. He loves drinking water out of glasses, and is eying that one on the table very intently....

Cheers to 2013 and all the adventures it will bring!

(On that note, we actually already went on our first adventure of the year, up to Big Bear, so a new blog post is SOON to come!!) 

Baja, the Enigma: Part 2

Soon we were bumping along the red dirt road through cool fog, ocean crashing on the rocks only a few feet away from our car – we were finally back at the coast. And we were, for the most part, alone. The scenery was stunning, but after a while we began to question where we were, how far this road went, if we should keep going or maybe turn back. Unfortunately, we didn’t have our camping stuff and our food supply was down to some Nutella we bought at the Wal-Mart in Rosarito, a couple bananas and the rest of a flat of Pacificos (one of Jordi’s favorite things about Mexico is they sell the beer in flats). Just when we thought we should head back towards civilization, a big pick-up truck came rolling out of a side road, coming to a dusty stop right in front of us. Out the window, a friendly booming voice asked us if we were lost. We ended up following John and Katy onward to the settlement of Punta Cabra, and up the hill to their house. Luckily we had plenty of those Pacifico's to share.

John was from Arizona and Katy was from L.A., but Punta Cabra is where they made their home, one cement room at a time. Although Americans can’t own land in Mexico, they were leasing the land for $1,000 a year. The landlord, whose bright blue house sat cheerily in the middle of the hill, essentially rents out plots of his acres for the gringos to build their dreams. In this exclusive fiefdom of Punta Cabra, you are only allowed land if the main guy likes you. If he decides he would not like you as his neighbor then... adios compadre. 

At John and Katy's house in Punta Cabra.
 Misty views and tales of Baja adventures. 

Sacher Construction representin'

But if you make the cut, then you enjoy sweeping views of the ocean, rocky cliffs down to the waves, rolling hills dotted with homemade houses, quiet trails along the water, abundant fishing, fun surf, friendly locals and a community of expats – I could see why no one would want to leave. It’s a completely different existence than the fast paced and crowded life many of us succumb to. Here, a days excitement is a trip along the dusty roads to the nearest tienda, or setting out in your boat to catch dinner for you and the neighbors, or mixing cement for whatever remodeling you have going on. John and Katy showed us their BB guns they use to shoot rabbits (apparently quite delicious), their dirt bikes and ATV’s, the beach you can see from their property where they caught more clams than they knew what to do with, the caves where the rivulet of fresh water meets the sea, which attracted goat herdsmen back in the day, likely giving Punta Cabra (Goat Point) its name.

Picnic, with a lot of coastline just to ourselves

Eventually we said au revoir to our new friends and waved out the window as we headed further north on the dirt road towards the surfing beach John told us about. We weren’t expecting anything fantastic since there was no swell, but it was fun to check it out for next time. Although there were no waves, we opened up the back of our car and had a picnic (you guessed it – nutella and cheap beer) We contemplated taking the coast road north all the way until it turned inland, eventually dumping you out at a little town called Santo Tomas. But we also wanted to get through Ensenada before dark to minimize our chances of getting lost, and the way we came had more paved roads. Thus we turned back, happily satisfied with a little does of adventure in our bones. If duty wasn’t calling, I like to think we would stay down there indefinitely. We do plan on going back some day - when we have a map, a tent, and no one expects us home….

We bumped back the way we came, found the highway and took toll roads to save time. We saw the sunset over Salsipuedes, and got on the lookout for somewhere to stay. Jordi remembered a motel on the beach at K38 (just north of Las Gaviotas), so we headed there.

After knocking at the gate, we were let in by the jovial owner and shown our simple but mostly clean room (Jordi did have to kill one of those huge nasty centipede monsters in the sink). Unfortunately, the tank was out of water until the truck came to fill it up the next day, but we managed to squeeze some drops out of the shower and then were on our way to find actual food.

Puerto Nuevo was pretty mellow for a Friday night, and everyone wanted us to buy trinkets or come to their restaurant.

“Free Tequila!”

Hmm, sketchy.

“Come try, es homemade!”

Ya, definitely not.

Puerto Nuevo...

...the only time we can afford lobster ;) 

What I did want however, were homemade tortillas and a homemade blanket. After some successful bargaining I scored a gorgeous hand woven blanket from central Mexico that smelled muskily of an old loom, not a factory. To find somewhere with legit tortillas, a nearby glass blower  pointed us in the direction of a hidden place on the water. We sat by the window and  ordered the requisite lobsters and margaritas. Since we were practically the only people in there, we were waited on hand and foot. The food was delicious and plentiful (we easily shared a meal), and everyone was incredibly friendly – I say everyone because we met everyone from the waiter who brought us waters, to the bartender who mixed our drinks, to the lobster guy who helped us chose a size, to the tortilla ladies. They wanted to know how often we visited, if we were scared of Mexico, where we came from, if we were on vacation. They were excited and honored that we could speak Spanish. We said goodbye to our waiter, Felipe, and the others, and left happy and full – or as they say more poetically in Spanish “llenos y contentos”.

We made it back to Robert’s Surf Motel and crashed on the bed. A few hours later I awoke to the Japanese banter of our neighbors on the patio outside smoking, reading travel books and chatting. It was an ungodly time of night and my first thought was they were going to the airport. But then, no one in Baja has a plane to catch….so who knows what that was about. Shortly after we were awakened again when a food-poisoned Jordi became suddenly and violently sick (thankfully we had bottled water). I eventually left our room and walked out the side gate to the quiet ocean, mossy stones and an almost full moon. The Japanese tourists, the yapping dogs, the sick husband all back at the motel, and memories of a quiet, gorgeous and unknown Baja in the moonlit black water. 

EPILOGUE:

The large Jesus statue
outside the motel

Robert's K-38 Motel

 The next morning we saw the big tank being filled with water. Jordi was feeling better, so we surfed for a bit out front, and took nice hot showers afterwards. The hotel owner made us some coffee and we lay in lounge chairs by the beach, petting their dogs and drinking their coffee. After packing up the car, we headed to the border. We got in line, bought fruit bowls with lime and chili for breakfast and waited for about two hours to cross. We forgot to ditch the eggs in our ice chest, and had to go through second inspection. But after that, we were on our way home….

Surf and coffee

A quiet morning

Good times at the border

Baja, the Enigma: Part 1

One of the many roadblocks when driving though Baja. We had to get out and stand in the hot sun while they searched our car thoroughly for drugs. All they found were Pacifico's, which were heartily approved. 

     As we pulled into the dusty gas station, a man approached us offering to pump. I shoved a $20 bill into Jordi’s hand and left him to deal with it as I made a bee line for “el baño”, the main reason we stopped in this tiny town in the first place. As I happily and lightly walked back to the car, I found Señor Gas Pumper and Husband Jordi cheerily chatting away, the attendant being very curious about us while we were trying to figure out where we were. Standing there in an unknown village in Baja with no map, no food, and a dwindling supply of cash, I realized communication sure does come in handy - I was grateful we knew Spanish...

I’ve stopped at numerous gas stations throughout various countries, and although it felt like we could be as far away as a remote gas station in Bolivia, we were in fact, only a day’s drive away from our house in San Clemente. So close, yet so far away…

Beautiful Las Gaviotas

     We started off our trip being pretty close and not too far away. Midweek we drove down and rented a house in the gated, manicured and cobblestoned development south of Rosarito called Las Gaviotas. Away from our noisy apartment, noisy lives and noisy phones. We 

One reason why Wal-Mart in
Mexico is way cooler. Lunch to-go,
 no sandwiches here....

had the private surf break out front to ourselves, watched movies, went on walks, enjoyed the stars and the quiet. But then the weekend crowd started to get thick with bachelor parties, family vacations and weekend warriors. We had to leave, but weren’t sold on the idea of going home quite yet.

     So as we exited the gates of security, we didn’t turn north towards the border, home, responsibilities, or voicemails; we booked it south. We drove in the misty morning past surf spots and restaurants still familiar, stopping once to check the small albeit relentless surf at an unprotected shallow beach break.

As the road eventually turned east, we immediately escaped the thick coastal fog, coming into the realization that it was, in fact, a gorgeous day. A few houses and fields scattered about led into a one street town. We were told an internet café could be found next to the police station, and if it wasn’t for a vertical speed bump, we would have missed seeing either.

Small town, just east of the coastal fog. 

       

    

   

 The group of men with their heads in the hood of the bright blue 80’s jeep parked out front saluted us as we approached, one following us inside to set us up with a computer. After making the necessary arrangements, we thanked everyone and got back in the car. We had asked Señor Internet where this road led, and he explained it was the curvier and slightly longer route to Ensenada, versus the straight toll road along the coast.  As we drove along the meandering lane through the low hills, I could see trails that looked fun to run on and the fog in the distance, content to sit over the coast and come no further. We passed a field with all 15 cows crowded under the shade of one tree, birds swooping and soaring in the blank blue sky and even a road runner, with the funny feathers on top of his head, skiddadling across the asphalt.

      Eventually we got closer to the fog, becoming engulfed in the grey city of Ensenada. There are no freeways, just endless stoplights as you make your way through myriad furniture shops and eateries. Each restaurant or taco cart seemed to tout their wares from all over Mexico – Pan de Jalisco, Tacos y Menudo: Estilo Michoacan, Pollo Oaxaca.

     Before we knew it, we were out of the city, heading along the highway, alone with the trucks.

The road was either empty, stretching out across plains until it disappeared into the rocky red hills, or else we were behind a truck belching diesel as we wandered from left to right, checking curves and waiting for a chance to pass.

     Years ago, Jordi had been to a spot on the beach called Cuatros Casas. It was his vague memory of a dirt road that turned off from a little village that served as our only compass. After a couple hours of stunning scenery and impressively slow trucks, we pulled into a small little town and stopped at the first corner tienda we saw. Starving, we grabbed some corn chips off the shelf while asking the lady for a bathroom and if we were anywhere near Cuatros Casas. She didn’t have a bathroom and had never heard of Cuatros Casas, but she did know there was a road to the coast a few miles back, and the gas station had a bathroom.

And that’s how we found ourselves chatting with the friendly attendant who, since we didn’t have a map, drew directions in the red dust on the car, and waved us off in the right direction.

Little Summer Outings: 3, 4

GREAT PARK

Hot. Flat. Adolescent trees that can't grow shade. It's getting there...

Timeline painted on an air strip

Kids play area with Balloon in the background

Carousel

Tandem Bicycle near the airstrip, aka the "recycled-use
cement parking lot".  H ow eco-friendly of them!

   









   











     Orange County's Great Park is a work in progress - after all, turning acres of cement into a park is no easy feat! The Great Park will only take up less than 30% of the decommissioned Marine Corps Air Station, which means over 1,347 acres are allotted for OC's biggest park.
The first order of business was a big orange balloon, set up in 2007 to take visitors 500 feet up in the air for panoramic views of the county, free of charge. Since then the park has added a kids play area, a great lawn, sports fields, organic gardens, a small museum, carousel, and they even have Farmer's Markets every Sunday morning.
Mostly I wanted to go up in the big balloon, and recruited my sister to meet me at the park for a look around. After getting lost in the suburbahell of south orange county (it's hard to figure out where you are when everything looks the SAME), I finally made it to the entrance of the park. My sister and I were almost the only ones in the parking lot on this hot July day, where none of the trees are big enough to park under, unfortunately. So we made our way across the shadeless parking lot and along the shadeless fields, over the shadeless timeline (painted on an air strip) to the shadeless entrance for the balloon. However, the was no line, and the gates were closed! We found an information tent, air conditioned thank heavens, where they told us the balloon was under inspection until the next week. This was grim news, but we decided to explore anyways. We rode the carousel (it was free) walked through the museum (interesting, albeit very small), found some shade at the Kids Rock park, and searched in vain for anything cold to drink or eat. We wanted to find the botanical gardens but the July asphalt and our hunger drove us to call it a day. We ended up going down the freeway to the Irvine Spectrum to sit in the AC and drink a smoothie.
My consensus is that this up-and-coming park will be awesome in a few years. Right now it's pretty hot, flat, not that exciting and there's no food or vending machines (a cold water or Coke would have been amazing). However, now that the balloon is offering rides again, I'll have to give it another shot. Plus, now I know that you should bring your own food and drinks, and hats and sunscreen (or come during Farmers). And if you ever have an inkling for an Ultimate Frisbee showdown, their fields would be a perfect spot!

Redondo Beach

Redondo Beach - on the Esplanade, looking South towards Palos Verdes

Yellow Vase - my favorite! 

I didn't expect visiting Redondo to be quite so emotional. This was our spot. We lived in the Village of Redondo Beach, nestled up to the hills of Palos Verdes, lights criss crossing the streets of downtown, and the wide white bike path along the flat beach that disappears in the distance, going all the way to Malibu. This was our street, with the green grass divider, trees all the way down, where we put out all our junk and acquired all our treasures. I remember waking up on weekend mornings to the sounds of cyclists and their loud snippets of conversation while whizzing by: "AND HAVE YOU SEEN GARY'S DOG" or "COULDN'T BELIEVE HIS MOM WOULD SAY" 

Anyways, we hadn't visited in far too long, not since living in San Clemente. It's like a past relationship, where you know why you had to go your separate ways, but you still appreciate the great qualities that made you fall in love in the first place.

Things like our magical little spot in the middle of LA-ness, our three minute walk to the ocean, how the beach ended and the cliffs began, breakfasts at Yellow Vase, riding our bikes to Penguins Frozen Yogurt, meandering the craziness of the pier and harbor, biking along the coast to Manhattan Beach for Sunday morning coffee and newspapers.

We lived here during some of the hardest times of our life - newly married, my family recovering from a recent tragedy, we didn't know a single person, I had trouble finding a job, Jordi hated his commute to Hollywood and I hated his long, long hours. It was lonely and hard at times, but eventually we did make some friends, I found a job, and we got to know and love our area - Redondo Beach had become our home. 

So the other week, when we finally went back for a visit and I found myself crying into my coffee cup at Yellow Vase, I thought something must be wrong with me. But when I started thinking about it, Redondo holds a lot of memories. Some of the hardest memories of our married life, and some of the sweetest. The first place we both called home still holds a very special place in our hearts. And although your trip might not be filled with walks down memory lane, everyone can find it enjoyable, and it's definitely a town I highly recommend visiting.

Take your bike, and cycle along the coast to the pier.
Go to Yellow Vase for breakfast, or stop in at one of the many cute restaurants in town.
Go up into Palos Verdes and take in the stunning views
Rent a kayak, or take your own down at Torrance Beach
Get a beer from Naja's Place at the Harbor - they have 88 on tap!

The Jesus van! In its daily spot by Trader Joe's

Looking North from Torrance Beach (in front
of our old apartment)

Looking South

Kayaking in the coves of Palos Verdes