“We couldn’t get anyone else to do it . . . so after a few glasses of wine, I said I’d do it. Being a very determined person, I decided to win.”
~ Clint Eastwood, on his decision to run for mayor of Carmel in 1986.

Carmel-by-the-Sea is nothing if not quaint and quirky.

First of all, the name itself. I mean, how many other hyphenated-name-plus-location towns are there? Second, the town proper — the village — is exactly one square mile.

It has no neon lights and no chain restaurants, thus no Starbucks or Olive Gardens or McDonalds. It has no street addresses; mail is delivered to a central post office where residents pick up their mail. You have to have a permit to wear high heels. The town banned eating ice cream cones on city streets. That is, until Clint Eastwood became mayor in 1986 and lifted the ban. Having Dirty Harry as mayor is itself pretty quirky.

But the town is also afloat in charm, with small inns and hotels, dozens of good restaurants, shops and boutiques that range from upscale to more upscale  — and it’s the most dog-friendly hotel I’ve ever been, especially the Cypress Hotel where I’m staying

Last night I had dinner in the small hotel bar, and there were six dogs, not including Annie, sitting at their owners’ feet — two Jack Russells, a tiny white Bichon, a rescue dog named Triscuit, a large white German Shepherd, and a black-and-white Basset Hound named Virgil, And as I was leaving a woman walked in leading a Great Dane. The next day an Irish Wolfhound moved in next door.

 

Everyone, including Annie, was quiet and well-behaved, but when the group started singing Happy Birthday to Tricuit’s “mom”, Virgil joined in with a deep mournful howl. (He reminded me of Flash, my brother Ron’s Basset Hound.)

Continue reading “Quaint and Quirky Carmel-By-The-Sea”

I have found that when you are deeply troubled, there are things you get from the silent devoted companionship of a dog that you can get from no other source.
~ Doris Day

I’m staying at the Cypress Inn in Carmel, a two-story white brick structure in the middle of town.

I chose the hotel mainly because it’s pet-friendly. And boy, is it ever pet friendly!  That’s because Doris Day, devoted animal activist as well as actress and singer, once owned the hotel and decreed that pets be allowed to stay there. It was the first pet-friendly hotel in Carmel. Continue reading “Que Sera, Sera”

That’s the nickname for Morro Bay, referring to the gigantic rock that sits in the bay and three smokestacks from a defunct power plant, both of which can be seen from almost anywhere in town.

Morro Bay is a small fishing town (population 10,234) on California’s Central Coast.  It’s about 120 miles north of Santa Barbara. a two-hour drive for most people. Annie and I made in four. I added it to my itinerary to fill in a few days between Santa Barbara and Carmel, as I made my way up the Coast.  I had lunch here about twenty years ago and thought, why not stop at that place with the big rock!

Continue reading “Three Stacks and a Rock”

Julia Child, who lived in Santa Barbara’s Casa Dorinda in her later years, once mentioned La SuperRica on “Good Morning America” as her favorite taquería, and lines are still forming around the block today because of that.

SuperRica does not have fish tacos . . . but it has the best tacos– and the best tortillas — outside of Mexico, IMHO.

When I lived here, I came about once a week, usually in the middle of the afternoon to avoid the crowds. It’s where I took friends who came into town. Its tacos are the food of dreams. It would be my choice for my last meal on Earth. It was the only restaurant I went to in Santa Barbara on Road Trip 2021.

Drum roll, please . . .

Continue reading “Super La SuperRica”

Somehow I have never minded dining alone. Instead, I find it is a rare opportunity for relaxing and collecting my senses, and I have always made each occasion something of a ceremony.

~ James Beard

It has been a while since I sat at a table for one in an upscale restaurant. A few days ago, in Tucson, I had dinner at the bar at Vivace and at Fleming’s. But a bar stool in a cozy, intimate bar is a whole other experience from a table for one in a roomful of couples and families.

Who is looking at me?  What are they thinking?  What shall I do with my hands?  My feet?  How should I compose my face?  Where should I point my eyes?

First and foremost, no one is looking at you.  No one cares what you’re doing with your hands or feet or face or eyes. No one cares if you’re alone or with a friend or with ten other people.

Or with a dog.

A woman in Memphis said it best on my 2019 road trip. She walked by my table ahead of her male companion and glanced at Annie lying on her mat under the table.  She gave me a conspiratorial smile. “The perfect dining companion,” she drawled. Her companion gave me a woeful smile as he followed her out the door.

Granted, I would prefer to have someone to share dinner with.  But I’ve usually traveled alone, and dining alone is part of that.  And it can be quite nice.  Last night I sat by myself at Coasterra, a Mexican restaurant at the east end Harbor Island.

Who needs a companion when you can gaze at a view like this?

Continue reading “Table for One”

I’ve been in San Diego for for five days, and I’ve yet to tire of the view from my hotel window.

I’m on the seventh floor of the Hilton Hotel on Harbor Island. When I lived in San Diego, I would come here to walk the path that runs the length of the island and to see the skyline and watch the sunset. I walk with Annie on the same path, morning and evening.  Continue reading “California Dreamin’”