Parks USA

I think our pioneer spirit is finally wearing off.  No longer do we casually dismiss the 13-hour drives and 600-mile distances as purely necessary (even simple) challenges that must be overcome to truly appreciate the final destination.  No, we do not feel that way anymore.  Now the ride is interminable; the mileage, painful; the energy, fleeting.  Our drive on Monday morning to Park City, Utah took a little over thirteen hours.  During that time, we occupied ourselves by finishing Ian McEwan's Solar, a fictional piece about global warming and, according to the back cover of the audiobook, an aging Nobel Prize winner's fight to save the world.  Sounded interesting enough.  Unfortunately, the author's deliberately cryptic vocabulary and generally despicable main character (a rude narcissist with a penchant for extramarital affairs) only elongated the drive.  We were forced to find other means of entertainment, which we surprisingly discovered in the ever-changing topography of the drive.  At least four significant shifts remain clear in my mind: the dense redwood forests outside San Francisco, the green and yellow checkered hills of Napa Valley, the salt flats bordering Salt Lake, and the mountainous territory leading to the sleepy town of Park City.  The oohs and ahhs stimulated by these extraordinary changes were enough to keep us awake during the epic drive.

When we finally made it to Park City, we conjured the remaining bits of energy necessary to explore the stores and galleries on Main Street.  This historic part of town is gorgeous, immaculate, and visibly well-to-do.  The city enjoyed significant media coverage during the 2002 Winter Olympics that took place in Salt Lake City, and it even hosts the Sundance Film Festival annually.  Despite mainstream status, however, it still carries small-town charm.  

We ate at Zoom: A Sundance Resort Restaurant and took in the cool evening breeze on the outdoor patio.  The food was delicious and impeccably presented for the foodie who appreciates an artistic flair. I went with the basic Penna Pesto Pasta with Grilled Chicken, and Dad enjoyed the fancier Steelhead Trout dish.  After dinner, we returned to Main Street and snapped pictures of the empty city street in hopes of catching the more authentic view of the historic buildings.

While Park City was a quaint stop, I couldn't help but notice my fading appetite for small towns, smaller art galleries, and lavish restaurant meals.  I missed the familiarity of home, and the deliciousness of my own meals that masterfully combine Safeway Spaghetti sauce, store-bought noodles, and Costco meatballs.  I had to leave these feelings of homesickness behind, however, for Yellowstone National Park promised a much more exciting adventure for us today.  


For now, I will only offer a few of the pictures from our time at Yellowstone, but I promise to finish writing about it tomorrow.  In the meantime, I hope you can enjoy the pictures!

"I left my heart in San Francisco"

It certainly started on a rough note.  However lovely the ride on Golden Gate Bridge may be, it is still a rather wide bridge that forbids easy view of the crystal water beyond the faded red of the railings.  Later, when we made it to the various vista points, we were disappointed once more by overcast skies and benevolent fellow tourists who offered to take our picture yet inexplicably neglected to include the massive bridge behind us.  Circuitous roads and confusing directions and occasion disagreements with the GPS caused us to miss Golden Gate Park entirely.  Admittedly, tension was high at this point, but it was nothing a good sandwich couldn’t cure for the Decker men.  

Thankfully, we found a nice couple with better photography skills at the second vista point.

We recovered from our Golden Gate folly at Boudin Sourdough Bakery, a local bread bakery and factory famous for creating San Francisco sourdough French Bread (http://www.boudinbakery.com/meetboudin/).  This is one of the many food joints Dug recommended for this journey, and despite our failure to try out the Bellagio’s legendary buffet in Vegas (I’m sorry!), I think we made up for our indiscretions with this place.  Naturally, the bread was fantastic, and memories of our delicious lunch actually brought us back for dinner later that night.  Next time, though, we won’t forget to order soup with our sandwiches (this is probably the one and only time Bill will make that mistake!).  This bread begs to be dipped in clam chowder or tomato soup.

With food in our stomachs and liberation from the car, we happily wandered Fisherman’s Wharf—San Francisco’s northern waterfront—in search of something to do.  We walked long rows of seaside shops filled to the brim with garish statues, obligatory San Fran merchandise, and disheveled art prints that vaguely reminded us of Ocean City.  But before we were disillusioned by the been-there-done-that feeling, we discovered the ferry, purchased tickets to Sausalito (a neighboring city across the San Francisco Bay), and boarded the boat for another Californian destination.   

This is my favorite picture from the day.  I took so many from this angle, but it wasn't perfect until both sailboats were in the frame.  I had to fool around with the image settings after I noticed my camera lens was smudged in two different places(!!!), but I think it turned out well in the end. 

The view of Sausalito from the ferry.

The first thing you notice about Sausalito is the diminutive size of the town plaza.  You walk a quick block away from the ferry and you're already in the heart of the town pulsing with tourists, hordes of teens, and sun-tanned locals.  We surveyed the buildings along the central strip distinguished by flashy colors and unique architectural designs featuring large open windows, solid oak doors, and busy interiors, but we mostly focused on the art galleries.  We were particularly drawn to one gallery that highlighted a flat sculpture of North America made out of license plates.  It was a cool $12,500, but I think I'm going to start collecting abandoned license plates to make it for myself.  Looked easy enough...

One of my favorite moments, though, came at the end of our brief walk through Sausalito.  On the way back to the ferry, I noticed one of the local performers playing his guitar with a small dog resting between his arm and chest and the curve of his guitar.  He was explaining to a few passersby that his pup, an adorable dachshund named Diamond, was the real entertainer.  He showed the crowd that she would bare her teeth and get very perturbed if anyone said the word "toothbrush" or showed her "the claw"--a menacing hand gesture.  After this comical demonstration, he asked the crowd if anyone wanted to hold Diamond while he played music...there was a moment of silence...and then I scooped her up and sat down to listen to the next song or story.  Of course, for those of you who are unsettled by the fact that Diamond's owner/dad literally compels her to be angry--possibly scared--never fear!  When his patrons walked on and he was left alone with her, and when I joined dad in the line for the ferry, I watched him whisper in her ear, tell her something sweet, serve her water, and then take her for a walk.  She is loved.  They are happy.

The next hopelessly touristy thing we made sure to accomplish was a ride on the San Francisco cable car.  We waited in line for just shy of an hour, but the experience proved to be worth the wait.  We elected to stand on the outside of the car, holding on by the railing as the cable car climbed and dipped through tall city hills and steep concrete valleys.  It took a minute or so to feel fully acclimated to the rush of the car and the force of the curves, and we narrowly missed contact with the opposing cable car passengers coming at us from opposite directions.  Yet, we saw the better part of the city in less than 30 minutes, and by the time we were done, our stomachs growled once more.  

As I mentioned before, we returned to Boudin's Sourdough Bakery for dinner...probably the most decadent dinner we've both enjoyed on this trip.  It was the kind of meal I'm sure Jon would have hated to share with me, for I was lost in one of my dreamy stupors of deliciousness that often result in unseemly murmurs and moans.  I sweetly devoured the Sourdough Gnocchi Al Pesto with Lobster, and dad dined on the Wild Caught Halibut after he finished his clam chowder bread bowl (win!). 

The day should have concluded with dinner, but I made sure to reunite with at least one friend on this road trip, and that friend is Aliza.  I first met Aliza when I was still very much a kid studying abroad in Oxford, England.  We bonded over our love affair with our tiny school building's computer lab.  We, with a small band of computer lab regulars, exchanged funny YouTube videos, music, stories, disappointments, and recent class gossip while we fervently composed our papers and hoped to God that our professors wouldn't see through the pages and pages of eloquent bullshit.  We became fast friends, but life, obligations, and very different states kept us apart for four years.  After a chance reunion in New York earlier this Winter and our brief conversation yesterday in San Francisco, I think it's safe to say that we're making sure another four years doesn't come and go without another one of these pictures.

June 2012

January 2012

November 2008

Hollywood Attractions and Scenic Californian Drives

We began our seventh day on a dreary California highway headed towards West Hollywood.  Despite the smoggy drive to our first destination, The Getty Center, the skies finally opened when we pulled into the museum parking lot.  One quick tram ride overlooking the busy Pacific Coast highway as well as the impressive California hills brought us to the Museum's central plaza.

  

The museum itself is a staggering work of art, and it took us the better part of an hour to wander through and investigate the blinding white concrete buildings and lush pink flowers bordering the premises.  Of course, in true Baltimore/Bill Decker fashion, we met a Baltimore native and his wife and son; we even ate lunch with them and exchanged life stories before we explored the galleries.  

Once sated and ready to enter the painting and portrait galleries, we started for the J.M.W. Turner exhibit.  I'm not exactly sure when I first discovered Turner's work, but I've been enamored with his seascapes for years (especially after I read Melville's Moby Dick and wrote a paper about Turner's influence on Melville and depictions of the sublime--don't you love this lit-nerd crap?).  Anyway, this is the first painting I saw in the room containing Romantic painters, and it's the first original Turner I've seen in a gallery.  I snapped a few pictures of my favorites from the day.  I made sure to turn off the flash feature on my camera too, so rest assured, I did not destroy the integrity of these paintings.  

J.M.W. Turner, Van Tromp Going About to Please His Masters - Ships at Sea Getting a Good Wetting (1844)

Claude Monet, Sunrise (1873)

Sebastiano Ricci, Perseus Confronting Phineus with the Head of Medusa (1705-1710)

I've seen this sculpture at the Peggy Guggenheim Museum in Venice too, but I forget the name :(

This was a bed!

We were officially tired after walking around for nearly three hours, so we called it a day and continued on to Hollywood.  Our hotel was within walking distance of the Hollywood Walk of Fame, so we made that our evening destination.  It seemed fitting to us that Marilyn Monroe's sultry smile routinely popped up along the walk to downtown Hollywood, for most associate the city where dreams and stars are made with glamour, charm, and fortune.  However, we were quickly dismayed; this side of Hollywood was by no means glamorous.  The Walk of Fame is teeming with star impersonators and young hustlers trying to make a quick buck, and they are often quite good at making you feel bad when you say, "No, I wouldn't want a picture with the real Michael Jackson" or "No, berating me with phrases like 'it's just music; it won't hurt you' will not encourage me to purchase your CD."  The night should have been a total flop, but we managed to salvage it with food and a couple good pictures.  

On the way to the Hollywood Mall.

This is for mom and Grandma Decker.  I'll never forget the day Grandma Decker used the phrase, "He can put his shoes under my bed anytime" after watching Kevin Costner in For the Love of the Game.  Amazing.

These are a couple of the theaters in the area. I believe the one on the left is a regular public theater and the one on the right is the world famous Chinese Theater.  

Just one of the many awesomely decorated parking garages in the area.

I met Sister Mary Clarence in our hotel lobby.  She wasn't very talkative, being a wax figure and all.  She was also incredibly creepy.  

Saturday, June 3rd

Early this morning, we drove to the Hollywood sign.  Unfortunately, the fog made it impossible to snap a clear picture.  That was a bit of a disappointment, but I'll always have the crystal clear picture of the equally impressive Hollywood sign resting just beyond the Hampton's pool. Win!

  

Today was a big driving day, but we made sure to stop by the LA Farmers Market for a quick breakfast before hitting the pavement.  Walking through the market with my dad as a kid on the weekends (probably with Jon or Steve in tow) solidified for me at an early age that markets are one of life's small treasures.  They must be respected and enjoyed.  

As soon as we arrived at the market, however, we quickly realized the shops were not due to open until 9 AM, but a couple breakfast stops were already busy with customers.  Almost unanimously, we made a beeline for Bob's Coffee and Donuts and ordered two twisty glaze donuts, hot tea with milk, and two more double-chocolate donuts for the road.  The twisty glaze was almost too good to be true, so we split another just to make sure the first taste of heaven wasn't a fluke.  

I'll be eating at this old-fashioned waffle stand someday.

This place has your name written all over it, Dug.  I'm so disappointed it wasn't open!

Reinvigorated by our respective sugar-highs, we jumped back in the Subaru, found California State Route 1 (a state highway that runs along the Pacific Coast), and continued maiming insect after insect on the road.  

We also stopped a handful of times to explore scenic detours as well as gaze at the water beneath us.  Strong winds, surprisingly chilly weather (today's average was around 70 degrees!), and lapping waves came together to forge brief but lovely respites from the claustrophobia of the drive.  In certain crazed moments--when I felt like I couldn't handle returning to the car again--I entertained descending the mountain walls flanking the beach with the hopes of escaping the relentless machine propelling us forward.  But I did not; I simply recovered on the precipice, watching the waves flow in and out.  

Somebody told us that the ride along the coast would probably take us three hours and certainly four if we enjoyed the ride.  I think you can probably estimate how long it took us to get to Monterey, California today.  This is probably the most beautiful ride I've experienced in my life--even rivaling what seemed like epic bike rides to nearby towns in Italy.  While it's a little unnerving to weave between the towering mountain on the right and the tremendous drop to the left, the view is enough to make near-death experiences worth it.  I hope you enjoy the pictures!  

We will be in San Francisco tomorrow morning.