A California Dreamin' Thanksgiving

To be memorable!  That's how I rate a holiday experience.  And my husband, Wayne, and I just spent a Thanksgiving holiday in California we are still reliving.

Celebrating Thanksgiving away from our home state of Texas (we are El Pasoans) was something we had done only once before. A typical Texas Thanksgiving is all about large doses of Food, Family, and Football.   This holiday, however, took us up the California coast, almost to San Luis Obispo. What would the weather be like?  What clothes should we pack?  What would be an appropriate hostess gift?  Would our hosts fix a traditional meal with turkey and all the usual trimmings? 

California Coast

Our first stop on the drive up the coast from Burbank was in the city of Ventura, where Wayne found the exact shoes he had been searching for in an REI store.  No crowds, no hassles, and a friendly young salesman who told us his family was having an unusual Thanksgiving this year because his grandmother's house had been affected by wildfires in the area.  We saw evidence of  a wildfire that had jumped ten lanes of traffic to wreck havoc on the other side.

Continuing up the coast, often with a view of a sunlit sea, what impressed us most was the abundant vegetation, dear to the heart of desert dwellers.  Lunch was in the coastal town of Santa Barbara. Excellent food, atmosphere, and service.  We weren't quite acclimated enough to sit in the outside seating area, even though the weather was mild.  I made a mental note to put Santa Barbara on our list of future vacation spots.  

Restaurant in Santa Barbara

Our reservations were at the Pismo Beach Hotel, a venerable hotel in the heart of the town, a block from the beach and two blocks from a cafe specializing in freshly made cinnamon rolls.

Pismo Beach

What a relaxing sight our first view of the ocean was!  I can still close my eyes and hear the waves crashing.

Beach at Pismo

The first night in Pismo was spent with family members doing wonderfully old-fashioned activities— first bowling and later playing billiards. (Wayne and I had aching muscles for several days afterwords!)

Thanksgiving morning we walked the short distance to Pismo Beach to watch the Turkey Trot, a well-attended run/walk for charity.

Participants waiting for Turkey Trot to start

Thanksgiving dinner turned out to be a familiar affair with turkey, dressing, vegetables, rolls, gravy,  pecan pie and apple pie made with apples picked that morning off a tree on the property. Guitar playing, board games, dominoes, ping-pong, and a football game kept everyone from falling asleep in the afternoon.

The next day, our host, a native of the area, treated us to a driving tour.  Wayne's favorite spot was Hartford Pier, where he had his first delicious taste of fresh smoked salmon.

Amiable owner of shop at Hartford Pier

Describing the appeal of a coastal area in words is difficult.  The air was moist and sweet-smelling, the locals and tourists alike were relaxed and appeared to be taking life easy, and the flowering plants were exuberant compared to those that we nurse along in the desert.  I was especially impressed with the size of the succulents that can live outside all your round in this California climate.

California Succulents

My miniature succulents at home are already tucked inside in front of a bright window for the winter.

Our last meal in California before catching a plane for home was at a Mexican food restaurant in Los Angeles.  But it wasn't just any old restaurant; it was an all-vegan restaurant .Very interesting!  Pozole, tacos, gorditas, enchilada, tostadas, margaritas, chocolate ice cream all made without animal products.  Because I am not a meat lover, deciding what to order was easy.  I would have enjoyed anything on the extensive menu. I'm not sure El Paso is ready for an all-vegan restaurant, however.  We think our traditional Mexican food is the best in the world. 

Patio of All-Vegan Restaurant in  Los Angeles

The Thanksgiving we spent on the California coast now seems like a pleasant dream.  The holiday was enough like a Texas Thanksgiving for us to feel comfortable but different enough to challenge us with new ideas and experiences. I know our thoughts will drift back to coastal California for many more Thanksgiving holidays to come.  

On Arriving Home

Arriving home from an extended trip should be a joyous occasion, shouldn't it?  After all, "There's no place like home."  Certainly the week before a big trip I wonder if I am crazy for leaving familiar comforts and venturing out into the big, scary world.  But I find the day or two after returning from a trip equally as disorienting.

I arrived home in mid-July this year from a 17-day trip abroad with my husband, Wayne.  We  stayed in Switzerland,

Chur, Switzerland

and rode the Bernina Express through the Alps.

Alps viewed from Bernina Express

We had many adventures traveling on Italian trains and spent a week at a Tuscan villa with friends and family. Due to difficulties with plane schedules on the return flight, it was mid-afternoon before we finally pulled up in our own driveway   I am always happy to see our house still standing as we round the last corner. But I immediately started peering at the front yard to see if the desert plants had survived.  After all, it was July in the Desert Southwest, with daytime temperatures often hitting the 100 degree mark.

Our house cat, Bitsy,

Bitsy

punishes us when we travel by staying in hiding rather than greeting us at the front door.  Bitsy has a special cat minder who provides her with daily care, but that doesn't stop her from making sure we suffer because we abandoned her.  I look in all of Bitsy's usual hiding places — under the bed, on the window sill behind a table, behind my reading chair in the bedroom, and of course I call to her, but to no avail.

I wonder endlessly around the house and yard, trying to feel as if I belong here.  I apologize to plants and animals for being off enjoying myself instead of tending to their needs.

Commonplace duties are everywhere, demanding my attention.  Two weeks of newspapers and mail are piled up on the kitchen counter.

So many newspapers, so little time

I set the newspapers aside, vowing to at least glance at the headlines to keep up with local news.  The mail is sorted into a junk pile, an emergency pile, and a tend-to-later pile. The answering machine on the house phone is blinking a red light announcing nine voice messages.  I listen to them impatiently.  Only three of the nine messages need a follow up.  I write down the information to tackle tomorrow when I can concentrate.

My mind keeps drifting back to Italy.  What is going on today at our Air B n B  in Tuscany, Le Due Volpi?  Are new guests now in  "our"  rooms?  Have they discovered the postcard-worthy view of the valley from the villa patio?

View from the villa balcony

How are our traveling companions, my friend from London, and our son and his girlfriend?  Did they arrive home safely?  Did they enjoy the villa as much as we did?  I miss our daily get-togethers.  So many more interesting topics I would like to discuss with them.

Tomorrow I will get back on track.  I vow to make appointments, wash clothes, clean out the refrigerator, buy groceries, and balance the checkbook.  Ugh.  How boring.

But just for today, I want to daydream. I want to recapture the glorious feeling of being out in the world, where life is happening.   I want to remember the kindness of Italian strangers who pulled me through a train door that was already closing to leave.  I want to think about how proud I was when I finally remembered, after three shopping trips, to weigh and mark the price of the fruit before going to a cashier.  I want to taste the strong coffee that Wayne made us every morning in a special pot, a Moka, served in the outdoor kitchen at the villa. And most of all,  I want to wake up every morning wondering what great adventures are in store for me that day.

Duties and real life are already crowding into my mind.  The hills of Tuscany are slipping away, only to be recaptured in photos, conversations, and if I am so fortunate, flashes of remembrance.  I am settling in to ordinary life again, which I suppose is what I truly want to do.  

.