Friday, March 1st, 2002

Having spent the night at my parent's house in Lake Mary, we get free shuttle service from dad (the king of pulse driving) following a quick breakfast. We arrive at the airport around 10:45am, say our goodbyes, and go for the curbside check-in. We find out we're in fact sitting together, something we were not expecting as I was told otherwise when I made the reservation (I bought our tickets using a free annual companion pass from American Express and, apparently, that was one of those pesky rules). Regardless, it was welcomed news.

With about a 90-minute wait, we continue the tradition of true gator fans on vacation by ordering drinks at one of the bars near our gate. Laurel goes for a bloody mary while I opt for a screwdriver so, at the very least, we pack a few nutrients considering it's still morning.

We notice the increased airport security measures in place which call for random passenger searches as flights are boarded. Being a foreigner myself, I choose to take on a low-key profile so as to not draw any attention to ourselves, which works flawlesly. A couple of attractive young women traveling alone wearing short shorts and tight shirts, however, are not so lucky and proceed to give up just about their entire array of cosmetics.

Random searches. Sure.

Our flight is rather uneventful, which is not necessarily a good thing. Delta's Sky mag lists Paul van Dyk, Massive Attack & a brazilian-beat channel but they're nowhere to be found. To make things even better, we're not served a meal but rather a snack that consists of drinks and pretzels. Famished, we arrive in Dallas with less than an hour to spare before our LA flight so we go for a not-as-fast-as-advertised meal from TGI Friday's that: 1. leaves me wanting to Febreeze myself, and 2. breaks records in 27 states regarding the amount of cheese that constitutes a cheese-wad.

With my cholesterol up 30 points, we arrive at John Wayne airport and are picked up by Laurel's sister, Megan, who takes us out for dinner at Pat & Oscar's on the way to Burbank. The woman behind the counter smirks as she can somehow tell my cholesterol can reach levels yet to be seen. It is here where we start figuring out that California Cuisine means that food is piled high enough where you should not be able to have a direct conversation with the person across from you. It is also here where Megan showcases her true Californian driver skills as she backs out of a space in the parking lot, cell phone in hand, armed with a 3-ton SUV, and the two of us as her hostages.

Megan ponders at Kellie's Cafe

We continue on the 5 on our way to Burbank to pick up Megan's husband, Andy, from work. Megan points out some of the local landmarks including Disneyland and, our favorite, authentic California 8pm rush-hour traffic. We find Andy finishing up, I grab a picture of some interesting IBM-formatted snacks in a vending machine on his floor, and head for Ventura (for another 45-hour of highway travel).

Once in Ventura (which, by the way, is really named San Buenaventura), we check into our room at the beachside Holiday Inn and take a walk downtown which is conveniently located a few blocks away. The downtown area seems pretty small at somewhere around 4 blocks, but does not dissapoint as there are many small stores along with a few coffee shops and restaurants - including one specializing in Peruvian / Thai & Barbecue cuisine. Yummy?

It was Friday so all the youngsters were out at the Ventura Theater which is hosting a foam party. I try to convince everyone to go but nobody is up for hanging out with a bunch of 16 year-olds (mind you, it's about 50° and they're all walking around in swimsuits). We find Kellie's Cafe, grab a cup of coffee / espresso, and a few snapshots. Andy and Megan look pretty beat plus we're also exhausted from the day's travel so we head back to crash early: midnight, local time.

Saturday, March 2nd, 2002

Being in a different time-zone makes your body do extraordinary things it would not normally do like wake up before 7am - yet feeling mostly normal. For some reason I'm convinced there's a continental breakfast but we find out otherwise, so Laurel, Megan and I decide to walk into town for breakfast while Andy gets some more rest. We find a restaurant named Frankie's that advertises an appetizing California Seafood Scramble. The place is decorated with frogs and surf-inspired art which definitely makes for a unique environment. However, bonus points are lost when we're informed that the espresso machine is down, they don't have cream, and Megan finds out their cider is sans-cinnamon. Megan orders some food to take back to Andy and we pay the check.

Laurel on the balcony at Zoey's

As we head back, we cross the street and, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a coffee house named Zoey's hidden in the back of a cozy alley. The place looks exactly like what I was looking for the night before: espresso machine, friendly staff, and a small stage for live performers. I order a macchiato and the woman proceeds to interrogate me about what I really want. I'm surprised a bit but I describe it as an espresso with a dab of cream, and that brings a look of relief to her face. She explains that most people ordering a macchiato expect some Starbucks chocolate-flavored foofy crap and, therefore, end up gagging midway through the first sip. She's, of course, more than glad to serve me one and it probably happens to be the best I get during our whole stay. Plus, I even get a sugar cube!

Ahh yeah, baby: this is where it's at.

We sip on our drinks and chat in the sun while I play with the camera before continuing back to the hotel where I take some shots of the ocean and the Ventura Pier. Our plan for the day is to visit some of the wineries around Santa Ynez, which is about 25 miles (40km) north of Santa Barbara. While we get ready, we watch the UF-UK basketball game which, completely blows chunks. sigh.

We head to Santa Barbara to pick up Kyle, an old friend of Laurel's. Interestingly enough, California highway exits have no numbers and, imagine that, we run into some traffic! It turns out that some poor soul's entire CD collection fell of their moving vehicle and is now spread all over the interstate. We drive by a cop looking down on a pile of broken cases and CDs and I just kill myself for missing the opportunity to take a picture of the scene.

The view the patio

Our first stop is the Gainey Vineyard, a winery with a beautiful view and a nice deal including tasting and a free tour of the facilities. We start sipping while we chat, admire the setting, and take some pictures of nature. Most of us start favoring the white wines, which apparently are better tasting since Southern California has climate more suitable for the white grapes. We then join a group of about twenty others near some of the nearby Sauvignon Blanc vines and are greeted by our tour guide, Crystal, who explains the whole wine-making process and takes us around the place.

One of the dark and cool storage rooms

We are shown all kinds of rooms and machinery for crushing grapes, storing the juice, bottling the wine and several of the storage rooms for the different stages of the process. Unfortunately, everyone is starting to get a bit hungry, and being under the influence of wine does not really seem to help so all that sticks in my mind are the bits about how the Gaineys started in the 60's as horse breeders, about how the vineyards have been arranged to make optimal use of the sun and weather, how you should refer to the smell of wine as the nose, how the best barrels are imported from France and can be used at most four times before being sold (and then mainly used as trash cans), and how plastic corks are really better corks. After the tour, we head back to the patio and complete the remaining of our tasting.

Starving and tipsy, we speed down to Los Olivos and settle for lunch at the Los Olivos Cafe after two tri-tip barbecue specialists try to convince us to have their goods. If you're not familiar with the tri-tip, it is a cut of beef that is marinated in some sort of special sauce, grilled, and sometimes served in a sandwich. After Laurel explains she's a vegetarian, they suggest a grilled artichoke heart with a garlic-butter sauce, diced onions, and a balsamic vinagrette (note: if you ever forget the last ingredient of any recipe, substitute with something involving the word balsamic - it makes the best sound even better). Wiping the drool off our chins, we're sold on the artichoke idea only to find out they don't have any of the ingredients. Cruel bastards!

We decide that the remaining of our wine-tasting time should be spent stumbling about the winery stores in town so our second tasting ends up being at the Andrew Murray Vineyards store which leaves us a bit unimpressed because of their choice of wines. We move on to our third at Arthur Earl's where the service and selection are both wonderful. All the stores seem cozy and provide a wide selection of wine-related paraphernalia along with prints and small hand-made art for sale. The whole day's experience is well worth the time.

We head back to downtown Santa Barbara for dinner and entertainment. Santa Barbara is definitely much larger and more party-oriented than Ventura due to the nearby UC campus. Bar closing time is 2am just like in Gainesville and the majority of college towns in the southeast, something I never expected out in California (damn conservatives are spreading like the plague!)

Kyle takes us to Palazzio's where we put our name on the list for a 1½ hour wait (it's like we're going for dinner at L'idiot). Therefore we roam about the streets to kill time since, well, we have plenty of it. We go back to the restaurant about an hour later and still wait another 45-minutes to an hour. We hit the bar for a few rounds and start stalking the member of the wait staff with the basket of free garlic-butter rolls.

We are finally sat, and Laurel decides she wants to split some creamy pasta & artichokes dish (no balsamic, thought) with Megan. Kyle raves about the Penne a la Puttanesca so we decide to split the small portion along with the mussel appetizer, which Andy joins in on. In the middle of dinner, the wait staff starts handing out a sheet with the words to That's Amore, the lights then dim, and everyone (and I mean, everyone) starts singing and toasting to it. According to Kyle, they always do this.

We move on to a club where the music is quite interesting: from old Michael Jackson (Billie Jean) to current pop and really bad radio-station techno. Skills such as beat-matching and letting more than half of a song play all the way through are not showcased what-so-ever by the DJ. Even with that, it was a welcomed change being in a smoke-free club. We party for a couple of hours and head out just after midnight for the drive back to Ventura.