One Last California Hurrah, Pt 2: Cayucos
Cayucos is the teensiest beach town you have ever visited. It feels and is small, the kind of small that a tourist can never be a part of. So small that you either know everyone or you’re an interloper. I quite loved the abandoned beach and super long pier and the ten or so shops along the main road, but my sister definitely missed the hustle and bustle of State Street in Santa Barbara.
That pier is wonderful!
the smoked albacore taco from this hole in the wall was worth eating our second dinner
the most undeveloped ocean real estate in california
being a kid at heart
One Last California Hurrah, Pt 1: Santa Barbara
I know, last thing I need is another little trip somewhere when my savings have crossed the dangerously low line. But the thought of not spending time with my sweet sister for a year motivated me to put together a short budget getaway before she starts her junior year of HS and I leave for the Fulbright. Our first destination, Santa Barbara, is honestly not a budget destination, but we couldn’t resist, and it was spectacular.
Loon Point came as a phone tip from the motel receptionist, who turned out to be this sort of sexy woman with great style. When I met her later, I thought that Loon Point suited her very well. The beach was secluded, hidden behind these fabulous homes in Summerland, and cold (not to suggest that she was though). We picnicked, swam in the frigid water, collected shells, and read before packing up. What a perfect beginning.
Presidio Motel is A FIND. A treasure. Pop-art motel. Ikea furniture with art-house magazines. Origami mobiles and a handcrafted rose. You want to put on a beat and dance. We loved this room. We tried peeking in every other room to see the different wall prints. Everything from the beach cruisers to the cute breakfast made us happy here.
can you BELIEVE the taller white building used to be a prison? yes, it was! I thought that I wouldn’t mind having to go to prison for a while if it was in this stunning location.
I do <3 Presidio. Our bicycle ride took us down State St., past the Zoo, the bird refuge, the cemetery, and to Butterfly Beach, where we arrived just in time for the sun to set and our feet to be covered in tar.
As we were futilely trying to scrub the tar from our feet, the ruggedly attractive owner of these two dogs passed us by, took one look, and said two words. “Baby oil.”
Swoon.
I am home after a long, long 27-hour journey. It feels so nice to sleep in one’s own bed, to be woken by up CA sunlight streaming in through the windows, and to know that I can finally unpack all the massive amount of stuffs I have acquired. I couldn’t help it — it was les soldes!
P.S. When was the last time you had watermelon with seeds?
The scene at dinner last night. The menu: melon with ham, a tomato and some lettuce picked from the garden, olive oil made by the grandparents of ST, my couchsurfing host, and a chunk of goat cheese. We split a bottle of wine and talked into the night. I am having what you would call a nice time away.
