Why We Travel...for the memories!

I've been thinking a lot about my vacations from earlier this year.

My first trip to San Francisco in April, which was so spur of the moment, was such a  heavenly experience. I enjoyed gallivanting on my own, the fact that the hotels I booked turned out to be great. I remember the food, some of them I just happened to bump into and they ended up great, like Bristol Farms deli and the House of Donuts with the amazing sweets and my discovery of my new favorite beer, Leffe.

I remember the afternoon, Day 2 to be exact when I went to add to my back tattoo at One Shot Tattoo. The sun was shining, it was a much warmer day than usual, I was on my tattoo high, my artist, Nakona was great (shame he doesn't work in that Tattoo shop anymore) and the look of the tattoo was just awesome. No need for regrets here, everything was great. I remember walking to Golden Gate Bridge, seeing the bridge and being almost moved to tears. Good day.

I also remember Day 4, Friday spending the day walking in the unusual heat to the curvy street on Lombard, stopping to imbibe in some wine-tasting at Fisherman's Wharf and being treated to a free sample of assorted wines just because the wine shop was about to toss them out. How many times does that happen? It just seemed like things were in place, the stars were aligned and my life felt much much better.

I remember the hilarity of the trip to Napa, the wine tasting tour. I had red eyes from allergies but no one seemed to notice, care or feel the need to call attention to it. I was solo but no one seemed concerned about that too. I remember the crazy foreign girls in my bus, one from Brazil was dressed to the nines, high heels and all as if we were off to a wedding. They hijacked the leftover wine bottle and treated the rest of us to it (instead of having winery pour it out - they termed it an "Open Bar") They were just a fun bunch. I remember the lunch at Bottega. Very nice restaurant, fine dining with the longest wine list I've ever seen and I choose to drink wine. I remember the nice chat with the 2 gentlemen at the bar who were celebrating one's birthday. It just felt so distinguished to be in a place that indulges in good food and good wine and being able to share it with fellow foodies. No fuss, no foul, let's just sit, eat and drink. It was an experience.

I remember the trip from there to L.A. Seeing Common at the airport, going through security with him, he was on my Virgin America flight to LA, seated at First Class no doubt. I remember getting to LA and not knowing what to expect, of my hotel, of the place, of everything. But it exceeded my expectations. The air was just lifted off me and I could exhale. It was open and airy and breezy and brighter like a cleaner, fresher existence. SF was muggy and dark, if it was a movie it would have been shot in greys and dark hues but LA would be shot with primary colors no less, lots of oranges and yellows. 

I remember my stay in my hotel room at the Custom Hotel that first day sick from allergies. I walked over to Bristol Farms and got some cooked food and a bottle of champagne (wish I could remember what type of Brut it was) even though I was sick. I was heckled at the counter for thinking you couldn't buy alcohol on Sunday but relieved that I could. I needed that drink! I cozied up to my very exquisite hotel room and downed the food and the wine. It felt so good. I missed out on one extra day of exploring the sights but kicking back that day was refreshing as well. I still remember how good I felt. 

I remember spending the next day in Venice Beach, seeing all the beatniks, hippie, sun-loving freeloaders. Now, that I think about it with all the work pressures I now understand why they choose to live like that and say a big "To Hell, with society."

I remember the sadness that overcame me when it came time for me to leave. Even though I was scheduled to be back there in 8 weeks I was just so sad. It was like loosing a good friend, a kindred spirit I had come to meet and instantly grow fond of. It was just sad.

Then, there was the second trip. Packed full with activities and so much to do, the week was not enough. I remember walking out of my hotel room (which was crappy) in Santa Barbara and taking this picture. This was one of the best pictures from that trip. I saw this car and immediately knew that I had to take this picture. That it would be indicative of my trip, a symbolic representation of me bing in a city by the beach. SB was muggy and foggy but had so much potential. It was like this little beach city nestled in front of the beach. The long scenic ride to LA from Santa Barbara. The scary ride to Santa Ynez from SB. Trips that I long to take now every time I drive through the city.

What I remember most of all the second time around with my family: Eating dinner in this little hole in the wall Italian restaurant that had no corkage fee but great Italian food, large portions. We saw everyone come in with their bottle of wine and figured we'd do the same. Enjoyed our food with some unlimited red wine courtesy of us. Only in LA.

Lastly, I remember the last day, walking through Manhattan Beach and eating lunch at this Fish Tacos place, spent the Friday drinking beers and eating these great tasting Fish Tacos. What could be better than that? That was just an exhilirating experience...like releasing stress, exhaling life in the best way possible, just sheer bliss. Like a taste of life when it's... good!

I think about that every Friday, every down time, when I'm sad, every time I feel the escapist in me long to escape, I think about that...that's why I'm thinking about that today.