Having started this marriage in Southern Idaho it, logically, became a tradition to go somewhere (anywhere) else to celebrate our birthdays… in fact, during those early years, we often celebrated both our birthdays and our antipodal birthdays with ‘away dates’.
This year’s flight of fancy was an overnight visit to that California Carmel
We found a deal on line at the Carmel Resort Inn… a charming pile of small cottages that began life as a collection of neighboring artist’s studios, slowly acquired by one person and turned into a hostelry. Fireplace, cute 50’s flavor and a nice, organic breakfast basket delivered to our door in the morning. It is run by a couple who seem to be a displaced Salinas agrarian who no doubt inherited and then sold off the family cabbage patch and invested the money in both the Inn and his mail order Russian bride named Christina (who has taken to the California way of life like nobody’s business).
They let us check in early so we dumped the baggage and headed for the center of town to see what we could see. Well, even mid-week in the off season, parking was at a premium but we snagged a spot and begin a rather lengthy gallery walk. Holey moley there are a shitload of art galleries in a four block square. The number we heard was 110 (down from 175…) and, in no time at all, they began to look tragically alike. There were some tasty bits here and there in the California
Whew. Enough art… time for a cold one. A couple of pints of Guinness and a little nosh and we were hoofing it back to the car a step ahead of the metermaid.
We did a drive along the beach (pretty big ocean on one side, pretty big houses on the other…) A realtor had leaped out of his storefront to let us know that, even though the listing photo we were looking at was reduced to only a million five, houses in Carmel started at $600,000 (that would be that leaning, converted woodshed under the power lines, over by the sewage treatment plant in the neighborhood no doubt known as Carmel-Not-So-Close-By-The-Sea…)
We drove past Clint Eastwood’s ranch but didn’t see him in person or, for that matter, Doris Day or Betty White… now that would have been a birthday treat!
Out of idle curiosity we stopped in at the old Mission San Carlos Borromeo del Rio Carmelo. These places always have the wackiest gift shops and the lushest, quietest gardens full of flowers and dead holy men. Besides, on your birthday it is good to see a building (still standing) that was 200 years old before you were even conceived. Puts one’s longevity into perspective rather nicely…
Back to the digs for a couple of gin & tonics, a little television and a nap, then off to dinner. We opted for Flaherty’s, since seafood seemed the logical option when within spitting distance of the briny deep… but then ordered catfish (Tama) and a trout (Me) that grew up about 12 miles from where I did in southern Ideeho. Well, okay, my fresh water grub was stuffed with bay shrimp and crab so that counts for something. Toss in some mashed spuds (most likely also from Idaho…) a mess of greens cooked up in cream and port, a bowl of clam chowder, a few more pints of Guinness and a credit card and you have a delightful birthday dinner.
Damn I'm terrible at remembering birthdays, so. .. happy belated.
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