Merry Christmas

On Christmas Eve, Regi and I escaped L.A. and drove to Monterey, about five and a half hours north by car.  He has a fun car to travel in, a sporty BMW convertible, and he enjoyed stretching it out on the freeway.  Having departed in the evening (Regi took part in his church's Christmas show), we arrived in Monterey in the wee hours of Christmas morning.  Sinking gratefully into bed, we didn't regain consciousness until about noon.  We then went in search of a suitable lunch venue, and found The Old Fisherman's Grotto on Fisherman's Wharf to be the perfect place; water views, relaxed and happy atmosphere, great seafood.  There I had my first taste of clam chowder.  I don't know how I've managed to avoid it for so long, I think it's just that when I want soup, I don't consider seafood varieties - I'm a classic tomato kind of gal.  Anyway, the clam chowder was delicious and deadly, so rich and creamy I found I had little room left for paella!  Regi said it was the best clam chowder he'd ever eaten, so the bar has been set high for any future chowder chow-downs. 

After lunch we took a stroll along the wharf, and then drove to nearby Carmel, a picture perfect little town that looks like a movie set, everything is so cute and clean and sparkly.  The real beauty however is watching the sunset over the beach; it's a Monterey tradition to head to the beach to watch the sunset and the fog roll in and there was indeed quite a crowd gathered on the fine, white sand. 

The following day, I visited with Garyth, a friend I made last year when in the U.S.  I stayed the night in her charming cottage, while Regi stayed at the hotel, allowing Garyth and I to have a good girly catch-up.  We drank wine, ate chocolate and watched a few episodes of Sex and the City.  It doesn't get much girlier than that (fingernail painting and make-overs aside).  In the morning I took a stroll along the foreshore, spying a few eager body-surfers paddling furiously amongst the gentle (but very cold) waves, alongside some very relaxed seals sunning themselves on rocks. 

Garyth and I then took a quick trip to Cannery Row, where I discovered the Sunglass Hut was having a seriously good sale.  Some sunglasses were marked down at almost 50% of original price, and then the salesgirl said take an extra 30% off that.  So I snaffled myself a fabby pair of Dolce & Gabbana sunnies for a mere $56!  Woo hoo!  That takes some of the sting out of losing my lovely Versace's.  Dear me, sometimes I write something and think, 'wow, I'm shallow!'

Sunday afternoon, Regi and I went wine-tasting in the Carmel Valley.  We stopped at Bernardus and discovered that the winery has a separate establishment a couple miles further down the road for tastings.  On we went, tasted some lovely vintages - their Chardonnay was a real winner - and enjoyed the jovial atmosphere created in the tasting room by the bar-tender.  There were about 6 other people there tasting the wine and we were all very merry.  We then headed back to the winery itself, which also housed a restaurant, for lunch.  The walls of the modest restaurant were covered in photographs of racing cars - roughly 1950s and 1960s vintage - as well as a framed, enlarged copy of a hand-drawn design for Volkswagon and an actual steering wheel displayed in a glass box.  What has this to do with wine?  Nothing, except that the owner, Mr Pons, is a Dutchman who designed the Volkswagon van and used to race cars.  In fact he won Le Mans. 

We arrived back in L.A. Sunday night.  I entered my apartment with some trepidation; I knew Emily had returned from her cruise last week, but that she was away again visiting her family for the Christmas holiday.  The charming aroma of cat faeces greeted me at the door, as did Pilot with his customary whine (to call it a meow would embue it with more melody than he possesses).  Mounting the stairs, I heard music coming from Emily's room and her bedroom door was ajar.  I called out 'hello' but got no response, not even an answering meow from Pearl, the kitten.  I peeked around the dooor and made out the shape of a body sleeping in the bed.  Perhaps Emily's friend Nicole - who she had enlisted to look after the cats while Emily was on her cruise - was staying the night.  This morning, the radio was still playing, which seemed odd.  I peeked around the door again and discovered that the reclining shape in the bed was just pillows arranged under the bedclothes to look like a sleeping person.  Was this intended to fool the cats into thinking they were under human supervision??  Seriously???  I checked Pearl's amenities - sufficient food and water, almost overflowing litter tray.  But where was Pearl?  I still hadn't heard a squeak from her.  I started looking carefully around the room and under the bed.  There is a little alcove in one corner of the room, which leads to a back door exit from the apartment.  The door is rarely used (it was necessary to use it to bring my bed into the apartment, but that's it) and Emily uses the alcove as storage space.  From the darkness in the alcove I heard a plaintive mew; Pearl.  She crept out.  Clearly, this has been her hiding place from Pilot, who has not been fooled into thinking Pearl had any kind of human protection and who upon hearing her cries this morning wasted no time in galloping up the stairs.  So the door is once again closed, for Pearl's protection.  Man, it stinks in there.  Emily is due back today or tomorrow. 

Meanwhile, I'm planning another escape this week, to visit a friend in Huntington Beach, an hour or two south of L.A.  I'm also looking at share accommodation ads as I prepare a more permanent escape from the cathouse.