Lately, the passenger seat of a car has been where I've spent most of my time. It was only a few hours between my recent return from Dallas that I was picked up by my beau to embark on another venture south. Road trips are certainly becoming my vessel for creativity and travel. However, this time, there was no utility or time factor involved. When greeted at my doorstep, I had little to no idea where our first stop south of San Francisco would be. 
So it was Santa Cruz. Spending most of the car ride there comparing hotel prices, we booked an ocean view room at the Dream Inn near the boardwalk just before arriving. I have been to Santa Cruz several times now, but even the evening car ride was exciting since it had been nearly ten days since I'd seen my Lover (that's what I'll call him to give the story an element of mystery and romantic acclaim). He had planned for us to play hopscotch down the 1, stopping at various coastal cities with only one agenda in mind: to relax. Like any traveling experience where you visit several different places, the days and destinations tend to mesh together, and by the end, you have only a singular sensation of what transpired while your "out of office reply" was on. Instead of itemizing our daily excursions and restaurant rendez-vous', I can do diligent justice to the trip by describing it as romantic.
To set the romantic precedent, I woke early the next morning to the sunrise peeping through our balcony window. While L was still sleeping, I slipped out to snap a few photos of the rising sun as it sprinkled lights fractioned into what seemed like glitter across the still ocean mass.
New eyes for old: I had seen such a gorgeous sunrise before, but today it seemed like a magnanimous force, warming me in my peach nighty and tucking me back into the ample, king size bed where I was swallowed by white linen and the fluffiest of down comforters.
I slept more that morning, feeling the sun's presence on the bare skin of my back. Being excited about relaxing means whatever effort exerted is the right amount. If it weren't for the 11am check-out, we may have rested in our comfy sun spot all day.
Eagerly, we anticipated our next waterfront lodging. And to no surprise, L had picked a gem. We checked into The Spindrift in Monterey later that afternoon and were delivered to the comforts of a European-style room adorned with a canopy bed of glowing rose-colored undertones and a fireplace-- nestled next to the ocean, of course.
Romance breathed from the pores of the room as we took advantage of every inch. Lounging from the armchair to the plush perimeter seats along the window, trying on the terri-cloth robes to sipping wine by the fire, I was pleased with such perfection and deliberation in all that we did. We appreciated our surroundings to the fullest, but mostly, we enjoyed the present company.
I felt calm and my body was relaxed and open. I had euphoric thoughts of a medieval king and queen, feasting uninterrupted in his/her royal lair. L, several years older than me, was teaching me about robust living.
Nothing is lacking. Meaningful indulgences purify the soul. All the passions and delights of the earth came to me on that evening, where we rested together in a divine experience. What peace to bring in the new year.
Waking up to 2009 was just as delicious of a welcome as the adieu to 2008 the evening prior. We woke together, and the way he smelled was the one familiar part of an entirely new year. Anticipating breakfast in bed, compliments of the Spindrift, L slept in as he often does and I breathed slowly, reading Metaphysical Meditations by Parmahansa Yogananda, until it was time to commemorate the new year with the first feast.
We sat sipping coffee and reading the newspaper next to the window overlooking the ocean. L and I were content in our self-made silence. A subconscious way of honoring a new beginning.
To set the romantic precedent, I woke early the next morning to the sunrise peeping through our balcony window. While L was still sleeping, I slipped out to snap a few photos of the rising sun as it sprinkled lights fractioned into what seemed like glitter across the still ocean mass. 
New eyes for old: I had seen such a gorgeous sunrise before, but today it seemed like a magnanimous force, warming me in my peach nighty and tucking me back into the ample, king size bed where I was swallowed by white linen and the fluffiest of down comforters. 
I slept more that morning, feeling the sun's presence on the bare skin of my back. Being excited about relaxing means whatever effort exerted is the right amount. If it weren't for the 11am check-out, we may have rested in our comfy sun spot all day. 
Eagerly, we anticipated our next waterfront lodging. And to no surprise, L had picked a gem. We checked into The Spindrift in Monterey later that afternoon and were delivered to the comforts of a European-style room adorned with a canopy bed of glowing rose-colored undertones and a fireplace-- nestled next to the ocean, of course. 
Romance breathed from the pores of the room as we took advantage of every inch. Lounging from the armchair to the plush perimeter seats along the window, trying on the terri-cloth robes to sipping wine by the fire, I was pleased with such perfection and deliberation in all that we did. We appreciated our surroundings to the fullest, but mostly, we enjoyed the present company. 
I felt calm and my body was relaxed and open. I had euphoric thoughts of a medieval king and queen, feasting uninterrupted in his/her royal lair. L, several years older than me, was teaching me about robust living. 
Nothing is lacking. Meaningful indulgences purify the soul. All the passions and delights of the earth came to me on that evening, where we rested together in a divine experience. What peace to bring in the new year. 
Waking up to 2009 was just as delicious of a welcome as the adieu to 2008 the evening prior. We woke together, and the way he smelled was the one familiar part of an entirely new year. Anticipating breakfast in bed, compliments of the Spindrift, L slept in as he often does and I breathed slowly, reading Metaphysical Meditations by Parmahansa Yogananda, until it was time to commemorate the new year with the first feast. 
We sat sipping coffee and reading the newspaper next to the window overlooking the ocean. L and I were content in our self-made silence. A subconscious way of honoring a new beginning. 
Ah, lover and perfect equal!
I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint indirections;
And I, when I meet you, mean to discover you by the like in you. (Walt Whitman)
And after breaking in the new year gently, we moved on from the hotel of grandeur and delight, the hotel with a breathtaking atrium that guided the sunlight in with a modern design. So we continued down the 1 to the next inlet of seaside paradise.
Miles south of Monterey, we were convinced we had passed through the best part of Highway 1. The sun was our third wheel and served as an excellent spotlight on the waves below. I was taken by the torrential sea as it brashly crashed onto the cliffs. The color changes, from a foamy white to a clear turquoise and on to a deep blue, captivated my camera's attention. The violent actions of the camera shot and captured the equally turbulent destruction below.
After a few hours, the sun separated from us and we were left with a greying ocean beneath thickly settled fog that seemed to sandwich us in between.
I enjoyed the view just as much as a sunny day. Fog can be such a presence, oppressive at first, yet at second glance, an illusion of dreariness that can be easily overcome. The reflection of the fog-covered sun in the ocean made the water look still and distant. It was as if I could see myself in that water on a rowboat, dressed as a fisherman in all-rubber garb, afraid of the unknown mass under my boat, but still, steadily forging ahead with my wooden oars until the clouds broke and the only thing I had left to fear was the darkness of the oncoming night.
This is L during the time we hit the fog.
Another stop was to observe elephant seals. These amorphous blobs of fat had snouts like a fictitious Dr. Seuss animal and didn't do much other than sun bathe and struggle to whisk sand on their bellies with disproportionately short flippers.
We embraced another romantic moment, just as the sun set while driving into Pismo Beach. Fierce orange and yellow jumped out of the skyline and into our car. I wondered if this moment would have been romantic without L and the anticipation of another night alone with him. Of course not, I said to myself, as I childishly clasped onto his hand like a four year old on her first day of school.
We relished in another day of sunshine at what seemed to be a locals beach. Long sandy stretches reflected the suns rays for miles and we attempted to walk the entire beach that day, stopping for a rousing game of frescobol and to collect shells along the shore.
Held by this electric self, I seized the spirit that trails in the undertow. Sea scum, scales from shining rocks, leaves of salt lettuce, all left by the tides. The shore is like the rim of the drinking glass in which I live. I gulp the ocean breeze that sets upon me, down like the way the water mysteriously retreats away from land and back into its enormous self. This phantom force that draws me to it and leaves me guessing as to when it will decide to roll back in.
And after breaking in the new year gently, we moved on from the hotel of grandeur and delight, the hotel with a breathtaking atrium that guided the sunlight in with a modern design. So we continued down the 1 to the next inlet of seaside paradise. 
Miles south of Monterey, we were convinced we had passed through the best part of Highway 1. The sun was our third wheel and served as an excellent spotlight on the waves below. I was taken by the torrential sea as it brashly crashed onto the cliffs. The color changes, from a foamy white to a clear turquoise and on to a deep blue, captivated my camera's attention. The violent actions of the camera shot and captured the equally turbulent destruction below. 
After a few hours, the sun separated from us and we were left with a greying ocean beneath thickly settled fog that seemed to sandwich us in between. 
I enjoyed the view just as much as a sunny day. Fog can be such a presence, oppressive at first, yet at second glance, an illusion of dreariness that can be easily overcome. The reflection of the fog-covered sun in the ocean made the water look still and distant. It was as if I could see myself in that water on a rowboat, dressed as a fisherman in all-rubber garb, afraid of the unknown mass under my boat, but still, steadily forging ahead with my wooden oars until the clouds broke and the only thing I had left to fear was the darkness of the oncoming night. 
This is L during the time we hit the fog. 
Another stop was to observe elephant seals. These amorphous blobs of fat had snouts like a fictitious Dr. Seuss animal and didn't do much other than sun bathe and struggle to whisk sand on their bellies with disproportionately short flippers. 
We embraced another romantic moment, just as the sun set while driving into Pismo Beach. Fierce orange and yellow jumped out of the skyline and into our car. I wondered if this moment would have been romantic without L and the anticipation of another night alone with him. Of course not, I said to myself, as I childishly clasped onto his hand like a four year old on her first day of school. 
We relished in another day of sunshine at what seemed to be a locals beach. Long sandy stretches reflected the suns rays for miles and we attempted to walk the entire beach that day, stopping for a rousing game of frescobol and to collect shells along the shore. 
Held by this electric self, I seized the spirit that trails in the undertow. Sea scum, scales from shining rocks, leaves of salt lettuce, all left by the tides. The shore is like the rim of the drinking glass in which I live. I gulp the ocean breeze that sets upon me, down like the way the water mysteriously retreats away from land and back into its enormous self. This phantom force that draws me to it and leaves me guessing as to when it will decide to roll back in. I am finished being teased. L and I move inland in the next chapter of this story.
Railroad tracks but no train. See it stretch on in the same uniformity. A masterful creation of the human race. And at once the turning point of technology. To think I was taken by a GPS and a Blackberry to this spot. Railways carry much more on their backs.
So we made it to our final destination: Palm Springs. The impromptu decision that quickly became the icing on L's 30th birthday cake. We wined and dined, ventured to the Joshua Tree National Park for a hike and felt like rockstars in yet another hooded robe after a hot tub at The Viceroy. Piano bars in the evening were an excellent throw back to the Sinata era that put Palm Springs on the map, er, should I say took it off. Famed as a desert oasis hideaway for Los Angeles celebrities, L felt a whirring sense of stardom as we sat listening to Tony Bennett with a martini in hand.
I was not alone, walking by the shore that week, all cares kept at bay. L was with me--a healthy presence and a friendly companion who knows what it means to caress and gesture with love. I see him differently now, with sweeter spasms that respond with an invitation into my life. I hope he accepts me wholly, just as the sea swallows small oarsmen in their boat.
Railroad tracks but no train. See it stretch on in the same uniformity. A masterful creation of the human race. And at once the turning point of technology. To think I was taken by a GPS and a Blackberry to this spot. Railways carry much more on their backs. 
So we made it to our final destination: Palm Springs. The impromptu decision that quickly became the icing on L's 30th birthday cake. We wined and dined, ventured to the Joshua Tree National Park for a hike and felt like rockstars in yet another hooded robe after a hot tub at The Viceroy. Piano bars in the evening were an excellent throw back to the Sinata era that put Palm Springs on the map, er, should I say took it off. Famed as a desert oasis hideaway for Los Angeles celebrities, L felt a whirring sense of stardom as we sat listening to Tony Bennett with a martini in hand. 
I was not alone, walking by the shore that week, all cares kept at bay. L was with me--a healthy presence and a friendly companion who knows what it means to caress and gesture with love. I see him differently now, with sweeter spasms that respond with an invitation into my life. I hope he accepts me wholly, just as the sea swallows small oarsmen in their boat. 
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