Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays. Along with July 4th and Christmas, this is the time of year when I am usually surrounded by family. Considering how frequently both my family and I tend to move, this holiday often involves travel. Over the years, I have spent Thanksgiving in Denver, Memphis, Kentucky, Hiroshima, Antigua, and Venezuela, among other places. This year, my family decided to visit me in Los Angeles for Thanksgiving.
The festivities actually began a week prior to Thanksgiving when my parents arrived from Italy via Atlanta. They came laden with gifts: exotic cheeses, ripe olives, and fine wines. Although my Mom had stayed for several days with me in L.A. soon after I moved, this was the first time that my Dad had been able to visit. Their visit was made even more special since this was the first time that they had a chance to meet my girlfriend, Megan. Megan was in town from Nebraska the weekend prior to Thanksgiving and it offered a nice opportunity for an introduction.
On Friday evening, after picking my parents up at the airport, Megan, my parents, and I went to Wolfang Puck’s “Chinois on Main,” an excellent Chinese-French fusion restaurant located near my apartment. Eating family-style, we savored an assortment of dishes. Whatever concerns I may have had about introducing a girlfriend to my parents were soon drowned in a steady flow of wine, a series of mouthwatering delicacies, and easy conversation. Following dessert and a walk around the neighborhood, we agreed to rendezvous early the next morning to drive north to San Luis Obispo.
The drive north allowed for more conversation as we admired the bucolic surroundings. For brunch, we stopped at the Cold Creek Tavern, an eclectic restaurant that once served as a stagecoach stop. A rustic wood cabin nestled in the verdant forest near the eponymous creek, we ate a hearty breakfast near a crackling fire. During the second half of the trip, while my parents dozed in the backseat, Megan and I plowed forward through the rolling hills of the central valley, arriving in San Luis Obispo in the early afternoon.
Being in wine country, we immediately set to work exploring the area. The first stop on our wine tasting tour was the Edna Valley Winery, a relatively large, touristy winery. During our tasting the wines on offer varied from awful to undrinkable and we made liberal use of the spit bucket. The final wine, a pungent dessert wine, was actually undrinkable. The only redeeming quality of the vineyard was a large bank of windows that provided an attractive view of the picturesque vineyard and rolling hills.
Undaunted, we proceeded cautiously to the next vineyard. A quick look at the wine list suggested that we best move further down the road. Fortunately, just as we were on the verge of becoming discouraged, we found Domaine Alfred, a small vineyard with a cozy tasting room. Though far less popular and lacking in the frills of Edna Valley, Domaine Alfred proved to have an assortment of tasty wines. An initial run through the wine tasting menu led us to sample a few of the reserves not included on the standard list.
Finally getting into the swing of wine tasting, we ventured to the final winery of the day. As the sun was setting over the sepia hills that my parents found reminiscent of Italy, we landed at Tally’s Winery, an expansive winery with a circular bar and picture windows providing a panoramic view of the surrounding vineyards. At Tally’s we selected a tasting of chardonnays that ranged from good to delightful. The smooth, buttery wines and comfortable atmosphere provided a fitting end to an enjoyable afternoon.
Back in San Luis Obispo, having checked into our Bed & Breakfast, we decided to go downtown for dinner. Opting to take the $.25 trolley, we barely caught the empty trolley as it was preparing to depart. Upon boarding, the driver appeared confused and struggled for several minutes to fasten his seat belt before struggling for several more minutes figuring out how to close the door. Not surprisingly, once the door was closed he struggled to get the trolley in gear, prompting my Dad to inquire if it was his first time driving the contraption. His slurred response assured us that he had driven the trolley once before, leading us to ask how his inaugural trip had turned out. No response. Committed, we held on for our lives as the trolley rattled to life and hurtled down the hill towards town. Ahead of us, a green light turned yellow and then red. The trolley raced forward. Miraculously, we flew through the intersection without causing a catastrophic collision. Looking at each other in bewilderment and alternating between nervous laughter and bemused disbelief, the driver casually interjected that it takes a half block to stop the runaway train. Mercifully, we managed to escape unscathed and we somberly reflected on our adventure over pizza at a local college haunt. Even more shocking than our near-death experience was that we opted to take the same trolley with the same driver back to the B&B on the return trip. Luckily, the ride uphill proved less exciting, although the driver had no recollection of us even though we must have been one of the few customers he saw all night.
On Sunday morning, my father and I went for a run through town, past the mission, and along the deserted streets. The seemingly endless roads traversing the rolling hills seem to lend themselves better to cycling. For a runner, the sensation of running in place is not an entirely pleasant one and the expansive landscape confirms a feeling of insignificance upon an individual. Following the breakfast part of the Bed & Breakfast experience, we again piled into the car and drove up the coast towards Hearst Castle. Along the way, we stopped at Harmony Winery, located in the tiny town of Harmony (population: 18). Now comfortable with the routine of wine tasting, we expertly admired, analyzed, and quaffed the proffered wine. Though isolated from the other vineyards, we found the small winery quaint with some good wines and a relaxed atmosphere. Besides, any time an acceptable opportunity to drink before noon arises, the effort must be embraced whole-heartedly.
After the tasting, in order to kill some time while we waited for my brother, his girlfriend, and her parents to meet us, we hiked along the rugged coast of Cambria. Our initial excitement at spotting a pack of seals was deflated considerably when we realized that the floating objects were actually seaweed and kelp. Still, there are worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon than a pleasant walk along scenic bluffs overlooking the ocean.
Having successfully passed the test with my parents, Megan was next introduced to my brother and his girlfriend. Following a light lunch in Cambria, the caravan drove along the coast to Hearst Castle. Barely arriving in time to purchase tickets to the last tour of the day, we rode the tour bus up the winding hill, through the estate, and to the base of the palatial mansion, enduring the inane conversation of annoying tourists the entire way. The architecture of the castle was impressive, if a bit gaudy. The intention seems to have been to rip off the masterpieces of Europe and, in this aspect, the builders were wildly successful. The views as the sun set over the Pacific were stunning and it was obvious that a great deal of care went into both the detail of the design and the interaction that the structure had with its surroundings. Walking through the rooms, we were continually confronted with an overload of design elements, though the overall effect was certainly one of awe. The group agreed that the place would have been a great place to throw a party.
After the tour, we were shuttled back down to the welcome center and were herded into a movie theatre where we watched a movie praising William Randolph Hearst, a portrayal that would have been unfamiliar to anyone who had seen Citizen Cane. The transparent piece of propaganda made it clear that Hearst had a huge number of friends who were rich, funny, powerful, and beautiful. These friends were entirely subservient to the owner who used his guests for his own amusement and, in turn, they loved him for it. According to the movie, it is really nice to be rich.
Sunday evening was spent with the group eating out at a Moroccan restaurant in SLO before the adults returned to the B&B while the younger generation searched the barren streets of San Luis Obispo. Eventually, we found a subterranean bar that appeared to be part of Pottery Barn. After the Pottery Barn announced last call at 9:00 PM, we wandered across the street to a stylish jazz bar sans jazz band. In a high-stakes contest in which there were no winners but plenty of losers, my brother and I attempted to one-up each other in telling embarrassing stories about the other person. Late in the evening, as a both literal and figurative fog descended, we trudged back up the hill to the B&B.
Megan and I ate breakfast early on Monday morning before taking our leave of the rest of the group. Still four hours north of Los Angeles, we embarked on the journey back to civilization so that Megan could catch her early afternoon flight home. The rolling yellow hills quilted with vineyards gradually gave way to dirt pastures with cows grazing on soil. About half way home the clear blue sky was conquered by a dense fog that threatened to deteriorate into a drizzle. Slowly, rural farmlands were interrupted by patches of outlets and strip malls. Houses became more frequent. Suddenly, we were surrounded by dense suburbs. Passing the Getty, perhaps my favorite museum in the world, we officially were back in Los Angeles proper. As always when dropping Megan off at the airport, it was sad to see her leave. Despite being confronted with an intimidating number of Cooks, she performed admirably and contributed mightily to an extremely enjoyable weekend.
Tuesday and Wednesday were spent back at work while my family spent the time gallivanting around L.A. It was nice to come home each evening to delicious meals prepared by my Mom and the well-stocked refrigerator is a gift that keeps on giving. On Thursday, my Dad and I went for our traditional Thanksgiving run, this time along the beach and the bluffs of Santa Monica. In the afternoon, we drove about an hour north to have Thanksgiving dinner with the family of Angie, my brothers’ girlfriend. The food was delicious and plentiful with an enormous amount of leftovers packed up to shuttle back to Santa Monica.
On Friday, my parents, my brother, and I completed a hike up to the Hollywood sign. Keeping with the theme of quintessential California activities, we then dined out at In-N-Out Burger, and washed the fast food down with Pinkberry. The day ended with a walk through the 3rd St. Promenade before my brother and I sampled a bit of the Santa Monica nightlife.
Early Saturday morning, we drove my brother to the airport, where he met up with Angie and embarked on his trip back to Connecticut. On the pre-dawn drive back to my apartment, we noticed fires blazing to the north in Malibu. In the afternoon, I dropped my parents off at the airport, ending a fun and eventful week.
As was the case on the boat, it always takes a while to transition from living alone to having company, but I find that once I make the adjustment it is equally difficult to adjust back to my life of relative solitude. Having Megan, Brian, and my parents visit was one of the highlights of my stay in California thus far. Aside from there terrific company, exploring the wineries of the Central Valley was a nice escape from my day-to-day life in Los Angeles. As always, my only complaint with the series of visits are that they passed too quickly.