The Elephant Seals of San Simeon

If you are on the Central Coast, you just have to go to San Simeon.  Not for Hearst Castle, though that is a fun trip too, you have to go to see the Elephant seals!  When we are cruising the coast, once a year or so, we always try to make this trip.  Where else can you get so close to such a large amount of wild animals.  Depending on the time of year you go, many different things could be happening on the beach.  Mating, birthing, fighting, and then theres the times when they are basically just laying there getting fat.  This particular trip was during the Elephant seals' birthing time.  There were so many new pups and mama seals, an a few proud papa seals lying with their harem or defending their harem against other alpha males.   It was so fun to watch all the different activities going on.  We stayed quite a while and I am so glad we did because we were able to witness a seal pup being birthed.  It was amazing!  Visit the Friends of the Elephant Seals' website for what's happening when and other great information about Elephan Seals.  Also, here's a link to some more pictures put to a little musical slide show, enjoy!

  This seal just had a baby.

The Little Town of Arroyo Grande

Near my parent's house is the small Central Coast community of Arroyo Grande. I've passed the place numerous times, but thanks to our WestWays magazine, decided to take a gander at the Grande. The main reason was to see their swinging bridge. The little downtown section is quaint and relaxling to walk around. Its filled with antique stores and other little knick-knack shops, most of which we by passed.

Upon looking for a place to eat, my usual rule of thumb is to find  local places that seems to be the filled with people (easy enough if you ask me). Thus we stumbled upon Alphy's Broiler. Their tri-tip sandwich was oozing and dripping with delightful goodness with every bite. It was the best sandwich I have ever eaten. Kellee and I loved this place and will be hitting this place up the next time we're in a 50 mile radius. Plus, the staff was really friendly and seemed to be grateful having people eat at their place. 

                          Afterwards we stopped in and had a bite of Ice cream @ Dr. Burnstein's Ice Cream Lab, a fun old fashioned ice cream parlor. Again friendly and helpful staff with amazing ice cream. The best one was a red wine ice cream they had made with wine from one of the local wineries. If you love ice cream like my family does, then this is a must stop for you.
The swinging bridge is the only one of it's kind in California. Here's the link if your interested in its history. Really though, it's pretty secure these days, I didn't feel much movement, maybe about as much as you get from the swinging bridges at Tom Swayer's Island in Disneyland. No...much less. But it was pretty cool to say we stopped by the only swinging bridge of it's kind in California.

The pictures of the church are just that, pictures of a quaint little church. But we liked the mailbox. It gives the town some character.

Atlanta Redux

This is finally my last post on a cross-country trip I took this past summer, and to be truthful, I’m worn out writing about this excursion.

From Richmond we drove to Jonathan’s home in Maryland, but it seems that Jim and I were not ready to settle into relaxing at our friends' home, so we had him drop us off at the Metro and made our way to Washington D.C. to get a couple of drinks. As I remember it, Jonathan was supposed to pick us up around 12:00 am or so, but passed out from a long drive home. Thus, 12 turned into 2 am! I had to be up and ready to go by five so I could make my flight in Baltimore at 6:15 am. Suffice it to say, I was groggy, and had hot-eyes from the lack of sleep.

Jonathan’s wife graciously agreed to wake her and the kids up early to take me to the airport. We were running late and got lost for a brief minute but I made it on time with a couple minutes to get through all the security hassles and onto my plane. I was exasperated and out of breath by the time I made it to my terminal, but I made it and on time! The only problem was that the crew didn't. I mean I was there, the other passengers were there, and the plane was there…but there was no crew to fly the damn thing. Apparently, whoever puts these flights together forgot to tell the crew they had to fly out in the morning! So the crew, I take it, did what I did the night before and checked out DC after dark.

So there I sat on the ground waiting for two hours for someone, anyone to fly me home. Finally, a groggy hot-eyed crew showed up to take me to Atlanta. This in itself was another problem, because I missed my lay over flight by 45 minutes! So now I had to shuffle my schedule around and try I find another flight home…along with all the other passengers. Luckily, I managed to get one of the last tickets on a flight to Orange County eight hours later. The help desk in Baltimore told me once I got to Atlanta I could finagle a better ticket. This was not the case! After arriving in Atlanta the help desk lady scoffed at this assertion (Note: Atlanta does not offer Southern Hospitality at their airport)! She said even if this was the case and it was certainly not, that there were no other flights! I told her I would take anything, it didn’t have to be posh OC, I could go to the Ghetto of LA or stretch it out to Long Beach, I could even go to Ontario if she would let me! I tried to tell her this wasn’t my fault, her company was sleeping on the job. I wouldn’t mind taking another flight with another airline (actually I would prefer it!). But there were no flights! Everything, every airline was full! I would have to wait eight hours to go home.

When we had passed through Atlanta on our trip, I lamented how this was one city I would have liked to seen more of on the expedition and one day I would return. I never dreamed my return would be two days later! So, I was stuck in an airport in Atlanta for eight hours. I couldn’t believe that I could be back in the city again and not be able to check it out because I was stuck in the airport! So, I resolved to go out and explore. I found an old man who was working at the airport to direct me on how to get to anywhere that was safe and had something decent to eat. As luck would have it, Atlanta is not as backwards as their airline hostesses would allow you to believe. They actually have a metro that will take you from the airport to the downtown area. The old man pointed the way and told me what stop to get off to get a nice bite to eat at Hooters.

So off I went to explore. I found my stop and found Hooters. However, my wife hates the whole concept of Hooters, so even on an empty stomach I declined the delightful smells protruding from the eatery. I just figured if there was one place to eat in the area then there should be more, I was right but none of them looked appetizing. So, I continued to walk and found Olympic park. Nice place. A Beautiful open area with lots of sculptures. I then went to the Coke Museum. I thought about going in but at $15 bucks a pop (pun intended) to walk through, and I was down to my last $40-50 dollars, it wasn’t worth it. I mean, Hey! If it was Pepsi it would be a whole different story, but this was Cocoa Cola, what’s the big deal? So I simply opted for a Photo Op with an old style Coke bottle with the facility behind me.

What made me really like Atlanta was a small piece of ground near a freeway exit that was used as a homeless hang-out and littered with trash, it was a little area dedicated to Folk Art. Very cool sculptures that can’t help but to bring a smile to your face.

Speaking of which, I met a few folks while on my walk around the town. One gentleman walked up to me and asked me if I was racist. I thought of telling him, “Of course not, I deplore Lincoln.” But didn’t think he would get the humor so I just opted to dispel any fears that he might have of whitey walking around his town and affirmed that I was not in fact a racialist. He apparently wasn’t buying my pathetic attempt at being politically correct. He indeed wanted proof, by helping a poor black fellow out and giving him some of my change. He was disheartened when I told him that he probably already had more change in his pockets than I did.

I then met another pleasant man while walking around. He came up to me to... well, just to talk I suppose. He too was a homeless man wearing not so much a gruff beard as it was a chin strap. He was quite pleasant and I suspected any minute he would pull a switchblade and rob me of my last remaining cash. He had noticed my Dodgers hat and began talking baseball and Basketball with me. In fact, I was quite startled by how much he knew about sports, especially Los Angeles Sports and he was quite shocked I was not a Lakers Fan! We kept up our delightful conversation and I assumed he was just waiting for the right moment to shank me, when he looked up and commented on the gray clouds looming in the distance. I looked up to politely agree, when my jaw dropped to the ground and my startled body froze at the sight. It was summer and had been quite humidly hot in the Big A, so what I was gazing into was not computing into my southern Californian brain. These were not gray clouds or even dark clouds for that matter. This was the abyss opening up. It looked much more like the nothingness in the Never Ending Story. My heart sank as I remember the torrential down pour we had to navigate driving through on our first trip. So, I immediately said my good-byes and departed in haste, running to get back to the metro before I was swept away by an Atlanta flood. I couldn’t believe how swift the storm was upon my heels. As I came upon the last city block the rain began to pour. I decided at that moment that I had had my fill of the city and headed back to the airport for the last hour and a half.

There was plenty I missed; I had really set my heart on going to Stone Mountain to see the confederate leaders carved into the side of the mountain. I also wanted to eat lunch at Richard Blaise’s restaurant, but seeing that I wasn’t planning on walking around the city, I was completely underdressed and a little smelly. I also found out later that they have a muppet museum where they have the Dark Crystal Puppets on display; that would have been worth seeing. Maybe, my next trip across country, I’ll get stuck again and can see all the sights I missed.

Overall, it was a pretty good trip.

I Love Memphis!!!

I loved Memphis! Driving over the muddy Mississippi, the fragrant smell of BBQ rubbed ribs, the sweltering humidity that sucked all the water right out of my body onto the back of my shirt, Blues in the air, and rock 'n' roll in my shoes. This was the first time we would spend any length of time in a city during our road adventure. We got to our Hotel, the nicest one of the trip, and we all passed out for a little while. I was ready for Memphis though, so I didn’t lounge around long, I got up and walked a couple blocks to see the Pyramid Center before meeting back up with the Jim and Jonathan.

Pryamid on the Left

I walked along the Mississippi and around the Memphis Grizzlies Stadium that resembles a Pyramid. Which makes me sort of wonder why they named the team the Grizzlies? Why didn’t they go with something distinctly Memphis like The Blues (I know it’s already the name of a hockey team), or something uniquely Memphis-Egyptian to go with there Pyramid, like the Memphis Mummies (probably not a good name if you’re team is not doing that well).

Anyways, I went back and met the guys so we could go walk around and check out Beale Street. Jonathan and I lit up our first Cigars bought specifically for this moment. There’s a refreshing aroma when Punch and Memphis humidity are mixed in the air. The downtown part that we walked through was recently redeveloped, or at least it looked that way. We walked through Jefferson Davis park; a very charming tribute to an American Hero. However, there were a lot of men in the park that looked like Confederates that were there in the days during the War of Northern Aggression and were still suffering the consequences. It didn’t seem like they wanted to be bothered by Southern Loving California Yankees, thus we moved along.

10 Commandments

We walked along the mighty Mississippi something I honestly thought I would probably never see in my life time. I’m not sure why I’ve thought that, but anytime I would see it on the news flooding over or picturesque in some movie I would quietly think to myself, “Yeah all probably never get there.” Yet, here I stood walking along Twain’s river. I desperately wanted to jump in and swim around in its muddy banks (actually they looked more rocky than muddy) but I was hesitant being still in my clothes. Though that might not have stopped me if I’d seen people swimming, canoeing, or boating up and down the river, but as far as the eye could see it was barren and lonely. No one was out enjoying this vast river for recreational purposes. Which leads me to ask, can you swim in the Mississippi? Is the current too strong? Is it too filthy? Or was I just at the wrong location to see all the vacationing throngs of people recreating on the water.

We then headed to Beale street the night life of the founding fathers of Blues. What once were the segregated side of the tracks and the heart beat of black music, is now degenerated to a couple city blocks of Tourist trap Blues. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy a good tourist trap. In fact I have a neon blinking sign over my head when walking around that reads, “I’m a tourist, please trap me and take my money!” In all actuality, besides a couple of novelty stores and well-known Blues artist putting their names on some restaurants, the couple of blocks still has some good bars to hear some Blues. So, really Beale Street is more of a tourist trap for drinkers.

For dinner, we opted to stay close and eat right there on Beale Street. A food decision I have regretted since. Not that it was bad, but I was looking for some distinctly Memphis BBQ. I was told by one of the guys who worked at Sun Studios his favorite Rib joint, but it was night, we were walking, and the place was located in the bad part of town. So I asked someone else who might know good food…a bartender. He gave me two choices for us to ponder. Right next door to his establishment a place on Beale street and the Flying Saucer. We opted to stay close, he insisted it was a good choice and stated that the meat would fall right of the bone. He didn’t lie; The meat was tender and the dry rub was tasty. Overall it actually wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t what I pictured or read about Memphis BBQ. The place had the look and feel of a Johnny Rockets and just seemed too easy to please the big crowds that flocked to Beale Street. I would have much rather eaten at a Mom and Pop place with sticky walls and greasy tables. Plus, no sauce on the Ribs!!! I hear this is what makes Memphis BBQ Unique, but man I need a little sauce! I asked for some sauce anyhow, ready to feel the waiters wrath of indignation, but he was pretty hospitable and brought me out a small cup to spread over the ribs. Nothing like the Whole Hog!

While most of the 20-30 something vacationer crowd found themselves at some loud DJ bar that resembled a bar in TJ, we opted for Silky O'Sullivans. It was a slow night, the crowd was sparse but the music was everything I imagined and made the night completely worth it. The band was made up of a Piano player/singer, drummer, and guitar player all of which had played with every major music artist around the city. The singer was raucous, rockin and raunchy. His scratchy, guttural singing paired well with the foamy, bown ale of a Boddingtons.

On our way back to the Hotel, we noticed another place that looked pretty lively. It was off of Beale Street in the heart of the downtown section. It looked like a place where all the post-college business crowd was gathering after a hard Monday of work. Then we noticed that this was the Flying Saucer where we were told by the Bartender we should get something to eat. This was a much better crowd (because it wasn’t all vacationers, but the regulars) and probably much better food than where we ate. But what got all three of us upset and banging our heads against the table were their unbelievable prices on Import beers. It was half the price as what we were paying on Beale Street (which I suppose shouldn’t be surprising since I just told you that Beale street is the tourist trap for drinkers). If you head out towards Memphis and are looking to have a beer then this should be the place to stop, they have reasonable prices and a good selection of beers.
Outside singing the Blues

Lastly, let me comment on my California laid-backness versus Memphis and the rest of the South on out to the Atlantic. I opted to where my normal unimpressive jeans and preferably dark shirt. Someone, anyone could have left me a message, a memo, a quick email telling me this is not acceptable attire and that I should purchase no less than three to four polo shirts and Dockers if I wanted to fit in with the casual scene. I absolutely could not believe what I was witnessing while people watching at the Flying Saucer, every male in the place had a polo shirt on! I don’t mean a fancy polo shirt, some of them were down right ugly, but they were polo shirts nonetheless. This phenomenon was true just about every city we traveled through. I remember sitting in the oyster bar in Charleston and Jim counting all the men in the place with Polo shirts. We were outnumbered 10 to 1! Why is this the case and why do East coast men love Dockers so much? Someone please explain this weird fascination.

Sun Studios

Ten dollars to tour a tiny, cramped, old, one-room recording studio? I’m in! In all actuality this was a more compelling tour to me than Graceland. I loved this place and the authenticity that went with it. The guide had Memphis flare, told some intriguing stories, and allowed the visitors to hear some of the first music recorded at the studio, like Elvis’ first recording apparently done for his mother's birthday (that was months prior) and Ike Turner's "rocket 88" (the first Rock n Roll song ever recorded).

When you first walk into Sun Studios, the room is situated like a café with plenty of knick-knacks to browse and purchase. They have a counter to sit at and buy a drink or a little something to eat if needed. When the tour begins you are escorted up stairs to a room that serves as a preservation of the Studio's history. Then you are led down to what was the main entrance of Sun Studios, and into the place where all the greats recorded their hits. It’s a quick simple tour that last about half and hour (if I recall correctly).

The only negative I had about the tour was that there were sooo many people squished in like sardines (and some of them smelling that way) that it was hard to move about freely and see all the displays. By the time the tour guide was done talking and moving on with the tour you barely had time to check out everything he was covering. Jonathan told me that this was not reminiscent of the tour he did a couple years a go. He said there were only about ten people in his group the last time. We went late in the afternoon, on a Monday, so if you go, check into it prior, you might want to plan on going early so you have time and room to see everything.

Bill Black Stood Here during the recording of "That's alright mama!"

The most photographed microphone in the world!

Oh, well my singing aspirations are out the window!

You have to love Sun Studios for having a Pepsi Machine