Everybody likes traveling. It’s just the universal hobby everyone is supposed to have. There’s something amorphously sexy and chic about visiting exotic locales, interacting with indigenous populations, and marveling at local landmarks which appeal to our general well-being and happiness.
I guess I slept in the day they taught us why traveling is awesome. For me, most of the time traveling is an exhausting, expensive ordeal in pale comparison to, well, travelers’ descriptions.
Ok, that’s not quite fair; there’s quite a few types of travel most of us undertake, with varied amounts of crappiness. Going from the worst to the best type, then:
A continuation from the previous post…
Other than being the murder capital of the country, I guess the District of Columbia is also known for its federal government buildings and assortment of historical monuments. Beyond Sui’s optometry conference, we didn’t have much of an itinerary.
Which meant we spent most of our time hanging out around the National Mall.
As with any metropolitan area, living outside of the main tourist area saves a bundle on hotel fare; we stayed at inoffensive Crystal City, a mere twenty Metro minutes away from central D.C. but otherwise an artificial piece of overgrown shopping morass. Sui did her research here, and made sure we slept far away from the murder.
You can skip the writeup and find pictures here. I outdid myself this time, 100 photos after the usual trimming.
A weekend of sand and waves; Sui and I headed down to Monterey, neither of us having gone to this sunny location only two hours away. Sui especially needed a little reprieve in between her busy summer and fall optometry clinical schedule, so off we went to the other Northern California bay, one without the generous dose of fog.
The plan was to hit the world-famous aquarium, stay overnight, then spend a second day walking along a trail along the water, checking out interesting landmarks along the way. It was a quickie getaway, and I had to head back home in time for work the day after.
Oh Vegas. With your enticing buffets, topless shows, scandalous gambling, and blinding lights…
It had been a while since we checked out Las Vegas; last time, one Zeon-organized trip took us mid-summer, mid-desert, to a place where free public entertainment compensated for limited college funds. Since I was in between jobs and Sui was on winter break, we figured it was about time for a return trip.
Sadly, when you don’t gamble or go clubbing, Vegas is a lot less interesting. Despite the diverse entertainment, having a jolly time in Vegas ultimately means spending money at the slots, in the bars, or around the malls; we opted to spend cash on shows and food instead. This is a quick account of some of the interesting venues we dropped by, just in case anybody wants to check them out.
And for those more visually-inclined, some pictures of the trip. ()
The abundance of carny games and people at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk was slightly disappointing, so our entourage headed along scenic Highway I, meandering our way along the Californian coast, enjoying great views of the ocean and for for those of us sensitive to winding roads, motion sickness.
Following a coworker’s recommendation, we stopped at an unmarked area off the highway, where a slanting trail lead downwards to a cozy patch of sand and rocks isolated from the rest of the world. Panther Beach, as it is known, was a picturesque location; rocky cliffs shelter its beauty from tourist eyes, lapping waves erase yesterday’s footprints, and September winds add an encouraging chill:
It was a big deal this summer at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk; the radio blared about its 100th year anniversary along with the enticing possibility of $1 rides when purchasing cans of Sprite on the weekdays. Since I’ve never been to Santa Cruz, Jeff, in the course of 20+ e-mails, kindly arranged a trip down to the land of excessive sunshine.
One of the first things I noticed upon arrival was the lack of a beach. Well, there may have been a beach, but the view on the road alongside the boardwalk was simply vacation houses and concrete walls, although they may have been trying to build anticipation of the tourist trap. Getting out of the car and shrugging on a backpack holding beach-appropriate gear, I came upon this at the entrance: