Carmel

In Merced, I became a little lost because the entrance to Highway CA 99 was closed.  I asked some Mexicans how to get to Monterey, and after a few moments of speaking Spanish, they told me to go down Martin Luther King Blvd. for many miles until I saw CA 59.  O.K., I said.  Right as rain.

I thought I was lost the entire time.  But then I discovered that I had Google Maps on my iPhone, and that it would update my route as I drove.  What a score!  I wish I knew more about the goddamned phone.  In many ways, it is a miracle.

From highway to highway, I made my way to Carmel.  I hadn't an idea where I would stay, but that would work its way out, I thought.

Then I picked up a radio station, KZSC in Santa Cruz, a marvel.  Suddenly, I felt good.  Ebullient almost.  College kids, for Christ's sake.  Yup, a goddamned marvel.

Carmel-By-The-Sea--Expensive and Pretentious.  I felt good here.  There was no place to park on a Saturday afternoon, of course, so I pulled into a paid lot and bought a ticket.  I would walk the town and get something to eat, and then I would try to find a place to spend the night.

As I wandered about, I would stop from time to time at an inn.  No vacancies were to be found in town, I was told.  There was a big bike event.  Everything in the entire county was sold out.  Then I stopped at one that said they thought the place across the street might have a vacancy.  I went.  They did.  It was perfect.  Someone had just cancelled.  It was cheaper than I could have booked online.  I had a sitting room with a chair and a couch.  A bathroom.  A bedroom.  Perfect.  And, for the weekend. . . cheap.

I am lucky that way sometimes.  I felt that way.

I walked about town and looked at the older crowd with sweaters tied about their shoulders.  They loved art.  That is why they came.  They were careful, though.  They read London and Steinbeck, but they lived another way.  They were here to spend money on rooms and food and antiques and clothing.  They might even buy art.

Then, I thought, it was time to head up Highway 101 to Big Sur.

Somewhere in it, the sky cleared.  It was blue and cool.  I stopped to take pictures.  Then I was at Nepenthe.  Champagne and lingering with the crowd.  Then the winding back.

"Jazz Kitty" playing things like this. . . and much, much more.

Then "Sound of Cinema."

Drinks and music and swinging roads full of overlooks and ocean and sky.  Perfect,  I thought.  A bit of luck.  

But you may like the original version.