Big Sur: Part 3

A day at Bean Hollow State Beach, on the coast between Santa Cruz and San Francisco.

Blue Whale carcase decomposing on the beach. Yeuch! But also Wow a Blue Whale!

Update: After a visit to the Mission Science Center, which has several of this Blue Whale's bones, I learned that what we took the picture of was probably the foetus - this female Blue Whale was pregnant when she was beached, after hitting a propeller. The mother whale was much much larger and I think under water when we were there. Though apparently there isn't much of her now. Interesting aside, the bones are now leaking oil. 

This picture says it all really.

Big Sur: Part 2

After such a long round trip on Friday, we decided to stay closer to home on Saturday. First, we drove into Carmel - yes, that one, of Clint Eastwood fame. If you like expensive shopping and eating then it is probably your idea of heaven. It's pretty enough but a bit posh for me. How many jewellery shops does a small town really need - I think 17 is possibly excessive... You get the picture. There are houses here which seem to have just added 0s to the end of their prices for the hell of it. We didn't drive the private toll road around Pebble Beach to see the mansions of the wealthy. Instead we bought sandwiches at a cafe and headed out of town.

On the way out, we passed the loveliest building in Carmel. Not a mansion. This is the Mission - a very late 18th century building of local sandstone, part of a complex that includes a museum and a Catholic school. Juniperro Serra, the priest who founded many of the missions of California including that in San Francisco, loved this one the best. He is buried in Carmel. The church itself is a simple though quite large building with a lovely plain ceiling and ornate reredos. There are furnished rooms to look at too, which show how the Mission was in the 18th and early 19th centuries.

After our visit to the Mission we drove off to Point Lobos, a state park. I'm not sure if I've written about this before. There's a big difference between visiting state or national parks in the US and walking in the UK. I know you can go off the beaten track in the States in a park like Yosemite but what you can't do is ramble around pretty much anywhere following rights of way through farming land or across estates. Land is private and out of bounds, unless it is part of a park. Tom asked our hosts if there were any walks around their house, and they didn't really know what we meant. Back in the UK, we'd have been able to find the nearest public footpath or bridle way, most likely crossing private land. Here in the US, you mostly go to a park to walk or hike. Often that means it is very well organised with car parks, picnic tables, lavatories and to me, all feels a little bit manicured.

Not that that detracts from the immense attractions of Point Lobos which is a spit of land with cliffs, pines, cyprus trees, rocks and blue blue sea. We walked out to see sea lions barking on some rocks offshore, watched whales spout, and enjoyed the sights and smells of this beautiful park. It is a stunningly lovely place.

Finally we took the girls to the beach. Point Lobos was a bit rocky and they were more interested in digging in sand and running around, than watching out for whales. 

Big Weekend: Big Sur part 1

We just got back from a long weekend away thanks to the Chinese New Year and the budget cuts that gave us a furlough day. So we headed south towards Big Sur staying in a lovely annex of a charming couple's home, atop a very high hill with a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean. We were about 12 miles south of Carmel and up a small lane off Highway 1. The lane wound its way up a canyon of redwoods with cabins amongst the trees - some small and rickety, some rather grand - until the road started to climb up and up. Then we turned onto a dirt track and climbed still further back into the glorious sunshine. It is really surprising how many houses are hidden up lanes like these. You see large collections of mailboxes by the side of the road, indicating they are there but you really can't see much sign apart form that until you get there.

So we arrived on Thursday evening, settled in and watched the sun set.

On Friday we had tickets for a tour of Hearst Castle at 2.20pm, way way down the coast. A drive of 90 miles along the Big Sur coast. This completely lives up to its reputation as one of the most stunning drives in the world. Well, I mean, I know I haven't done them all, but really it was stunning. It's also a challenging drive along winding roads on the cliff edge with sharp drops to the ocean below. We stopped a couple of times to look at the view and once, could hear sea lions way below, and see then tiny, lying on the beach and swimming in the cove.

 Look carefully. There are sea lions on the beach to the right and in that ridiculously blue water on the left.

After many miles of cliffs, the landscape flattened out to grazing land for cattle and less dramatic beaches. We could just see Hearst Castle high up in the hills to the left. And to the right, we saw elephant seals lying on the beach. We had been told we might. We hadn't expected to turn up, park the car and walk to within a few metres of the beach to see these enormous and, on land, ungainly animals. They come ashore in December to give birth or fight for supremacy, and then to mate before heading out to sea. The males can weigh up to 5000 lbs and are several metres long, with a rather silly looking trunk-like nose. Their calls sound like a mixture between loud belches and coughs and barks. We stayed for some time watching them. The babies were nursing. The mothers were sleeping which given that they haven't eaten since they landed over a month ago is understandable. And the males were using whatever energy they had to get periodically aggressive with each other. It was fascinating.

After that we headed up to the castle. Hearst Castle was built by the newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst with his architect, Julia Morgan, starting after WWI and on until his death in 1951. He didn't finish and kept changing his mind. He knew everyone - Winston Churchill, Charles Lindburgh, Charlie Chaplin and many others were mentioned in the tour or seen in films shown to us, taken at the Castle.

It's all set up in a thoroughly over the top and American way, to this Brit who is familiar with the National Trust and the Stately Homes of England. You arrive at an enormous visitors centre that could rival a regional airport for size. There is a large screen cinema there as well as a bus station, several cafes, a huge gift shop for all things Hearst Castle. You are still miles from the Castle itself which you can see in the distance. Then you catch a bus up to the castle for your tightly controlled tour - there are lots on offer, we took the experience tour which is an introductory overview. It means there is no necessity to build a car park by the house or have tons of cars winding their way up the lane to the Castle. And it is a winding road up and up.

 Copy of a Donatello - pretty sure I've seen the original in Florence where it does not top a fountain held up by Byzantine lions...

 Would you look at this! Apparently they auction off pool parties. Last one went for $5000

The setting for the castle - and its guest houses, pools, staircases, terraces, tennis courts - is breathtaking. The castle itself is a real folie de grandeur. Somehow though it works. It probably comes across differently to people who haven't been to Europe. To Tom and I who have grown up visiting Italian churches, Spanish palaces or French chateaux, it's a bit strange seeing such a mish-mash of styles together, and seeing some things in odd settings - church misericords used as dining room panelling for example. But it's done with panache. The quality of what was bought is very high - well he was very rich. And had people hired just to scout out fireplaces and ceilings and such like in Europe. The ceiling in the dining room is like nothing I have seen before (very large carved figures in wood - including St Francis) - probably because WRH bought them and shipped them to the US of A. The French fireplace - a massive ornate affair - in the "Assembly Room" was bought from a sale - some other US industrial magnate had obviously fallen on hard times and had to let it go.

I would have liked a bit more detail on where it all came from - no labels by paintings or furniture or tapestries. There's a bit of a tendency in the tour to say "Hey, it's French and it's really old, wow!" when I would have like to know from where in France, by whom and how old. And a bit more on Hearst's life, how influential he was and so on. The tour was glossy and glib and gave you the impression he was a funny old buffer with loads of cash who spent all his time obsessively collecting European valuables. When really he was the Rupert Murdoch of his age, with the largest newspaper and magazine business in the world. There was very little about the period that he lived in - no mention of the war, or the fact he met Hitler, and not much about the Depression.

My favourite bit - the guest house Casa del Sol - or rather me imagining going to a weekend party there, drinking champagne by the pool, wearing a slinky thirties evening dress (Katherine Hepburn's from the Philadelphia Story in white and silver would do) before retiring to a corner room with one of the best views in the world to wake up to.

Emilia liked the pool with the temple. You could just imagine Fred and Ginger dancing around the edge.

Lottie liked the lion statues. And the gold ladies in the cinema - they are huge figures holding lights. She didn't like the cinema (doesn't like films) but quite fancied a gold lady in her bedroom, but smaller.

We left late, nearly 5 pm, with a long drive ahead. I drove. I was bit nervous about doing this in the dark - it is a dramatically winding road with cliffs - I may have mentioned that bit before. Actually it was fine. And as we drove north along the coast, the sun set and the sea turned purple, the sky changed colours and the Big Sur coastline looked more incredible than ever. These pictures barely give an impression.

I'm pleased to announce we found the west coast of America

That's what our comic pilot said as we descended towards San Francisco yesterday afternoon. I am sitting at 6.44am having been up over an hour, in fog-bound SF listening to the noises of the apartment and the city outside. I've been staying in some very quiet places over the last few weeks - cottages deep in Welsh valleys, large houses high on Hampshire hills surrounded by farmland - no fire stations, traffic, trams or enormous American fridges. But I'm not complaining. We were met at the airport by our friend, Gilles, who also dropped us off at the airport when we left (big big thank you - being collected makes it so much easier and more pleasant).

And this time around United wasn't so bad. Somehow we ended up in Premier Economy or Economy Plus or More Legroom and Bottom Wriggle Land. So the girls and I had a good flight with space for my long legs and room to snuggle up. I watched three films, read Bill Bryson's book on the UK and cuddled my kids.

Meanwhile Tom was sat next to the child from hell. A two year old munchkin who had already climbed all over furniture and desks and whatnot before he even got onto the plane, accompanied by the most uninterested adult who had next to no control over him. The stewards had to escort him back to her after he'd wandered off twice and had a severe word with her, not that that made a lot of difference. One feisty stewardess told me she was all in favour of putting the pest in the overhead compartments. Which cheered Tom and I up - there's something very reassuring about hearing the stewards making dark comments about some of the passengers instead of always being sweetness and light. They couldn't do anything of course, but at least we knew they were suffering too. After several hours of the clambering kicking pest jumping on top of the seats, him and the table, Tom was delighted when Evil Munchkin plunged head-first between the seats having missed the table. Sadly he survived but he did fall asleep. Last seen still annoying his parent by refusing to leave the immigration hall.

So here we are. Breakfast was a lovely banana and walnut bread (thank you Sophie!) with fresh coffee. Breakfast was also shortly before 6am. I have a ton of laundry to do, some shopping and there are many PTA emails to look at and try to decipher with my jetlagged brain. Post consisted of bank statements and bills. So this must be home! 

Home again

So now I can hear sheep outside rather than trams or ducks. We stayed on a houseboat in Amsterdam booked through Loving Amsterdam - fear not, they also do Loving Prague, Barcelona and so on so it's not about the red light district. It cost about the same as a family room in a reasonable hotel but was much much better. I think the kids would have gone stir crazy in a hotel and all the meals out would have exhausted our appetites and our purse. This way we had the space - two bedrooms, large living area - and luckily for Tom a wifi connection which meant he could focus on the book for half the day and all the evening. Oh and I got to blog while away. I'm just annoyed I forgot the cable for the camera - I've added pictures to the posts I did while away.

On being a tourist in Amsterdam

I'm one of those annoying people who pretends not to be a tourist though that is clearly what I am. I don't always do the touristy things, and I definitely try to avoid the tourist traps. In Amsterdam that would include pretty much any street near the Central Station which are really horrible. Lovely buildings from the first floor up, but on the ground floor it's endless plastic, tourist menus, smoking coffee shops which is all very well but never really my scene and now I have kids. The Leidseplein is similar - lots of shops, expensive places and large grubby looking bars.

But today we chose to do that uber-tourist activity and take a boat tour of the canals. The weather was glorious and it was a lovely way to spend an hour. Like Venice, you don't really get a sense of the structure of the city until you spend at least a little time on the water. This is a port, made its money through trade and is ringed and riddled by canals which are in use. It's still the easiest way to transport large bulky items like construction materials to the centre of town.





The afternoon was spent ineffectually shopping as I'd chosen to shop on the day the shops are shut. How was I to know that on Mondays Amsterdam is shut - well not entirely but the shops I particularly wanted to visit were. I seem to remember the same finding in Germany on Saturdays. Downright confusing - of course they're entitled to their own national choices about opening hours, but I always seem to find myself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like aiming to visit specific museums in Italy on a Tuesday. It does save money so Tom who didn't come shopping and was no doubt worrying about it back at the houseboat was relieved when we came home almost entirely empty-handed. I have however managed to persuade him to forgo Anne Frank's House this time around (huge queues, little time, explain the Nazis to a 4 year old), and I'll let him work while I take the girls properly shopping. I get called manipulative sometimes and have no idea why...

Greetings from Amsterdam

Well I survived the journey with two small girls. I know there are people who scale mountains, cross deserts and stay in yurts in Outer Mongolia, while carrying small children in cunningly tied pieces of Indian cotton, but I am not like this. An escalator can strike fear when approached with a 6 year old, 4 year old and too much hand luggage. And that was before I got to passport control in Amsterdam when a terribly nice controller queried the fact that the girls have a different surname. It had never crossed my mind that this would be a problem. Fortunately my eldest has my surname as a middle name and I do look like them and maybe I just looked honest and the children looked like they wanted to be there, so they let me through. But my heart stopped briefly and visions flashed of children being confiscated, and so on. Next time I take copies of their birth certificates.

Anyway we got here. The children enjoyed their first flight (I loathed it but I always do). Lottie held my hand while we landed which turned out to be more for my support than hers as every time the plane and my stomach lurched I had to squeeze her a little tighter. Now we are ensconced in our houseboat in the Jordaan. This was an excellent idea. It's like a flat on water. Cute, comfortable and allows us to have evenings without having to sit on a bed being quiet and watching the kids sleep.

We've just been out with some of Tom's work colleagues and as Emilia said at the end of the evening "It wasn't that boring". I hope they agree! I'm not sure they expected to find themselves playing Uno to the rules of Lottie (idiosyncratic and aimed at her winning). We found ourselves heading into the centre of the city to Dam, with its monument. And there were several hundred lively Scots in kilts. I think there's a football match here tomorrow. There were some kilts on our plane which, given that we live in Wales, was interesting and I suppose it must be an important match. It did lead to us leaving that part of town to find somewhere else to have dinner. And luckily we chanced on La Scarpetta in Herenstraat. Italian, relaxed, happy to have children, interesting menu and very flexible. I'd recommend it. Can't say whether it was reasonably priced or not as right now nothing on the continent seems reasonably priced. We'll be splurging without trying these next few days.