The Pacific Coast and Gerry Bashing.
So we left San Francisco, with the sad and inevitable knowledge that the holiday was nearing its end. One more full day of travelling down the coast and an overnight at Pismo Beach, then it would be back to Los Angeles.
Still, it didn’t detract too much from the spirit of the day as we travelled the misty coast road, which is Highway 1, towards our next stop which would be Monterey.
Between San Francisco and Monterey there is one hundred plus miles of coastal road, dotted with small towns, some fairly exclusive looking places as well. Also along the way are secluded sandy bays and high cliffs. We passed through the city of Santa Cruz, before reaching Monterey Bay and the city of Monterey itself.
It was still fairly dull in Monterey as we parked up alongside Cannery Row, made famous by John Steinbeck and his novel of the same name. (No, I haven’t read it either).
This was a short stop, for coffee, leg stretch and a toilet break, before piling back onto the coach and heading towards Carmel which boasts having Clint Eastwood as a former Mayor. It’s a really delightful place with small houses and many golf courses surrounding it, including the famous Pebble Beach Golf Course.
We returned to Monterey for lunch and sightseeing, which was by now bathed in glorious sunshine. We took advantage of the sun and strolled out along the pier and ate in a lovely fish restaurant at the end of it, where we could watch the sea lions lazing in the sun.
After lunch we headed off again, this time in the direction of Pismo Beach.
Pismo Beach was going to be our last hotel for the holiday, although some of our coach party would overnight in LA before departing.
As we pulled into the hotel Thierry (our French Tour Guide) informed us that we would all get a complimentary drink in the bar that night and vouchers for free breakfasts in the morning!
We like vouchers!
Although we were weary travellers we took advantage of the late afternoon sun and spent an hour in the pool and spa.
We changed for supper and made sure we stopped off for the complimentary drink in the hotel bar, which was only a pokey affair that would close at 9pm, so no late night session there then!
We wandered out into the warm evening air, looking for somewhere to eat close by. After such a tiring week or so, we couldn’t be bothered to go far, so although we were slightly over dressed for it, we ate at Denny’s, which was just across the road. You can’t beat a Denny’s for good, decent, calorie laden food, which is also cheap!
After slowly meandering back to the hotel, I popped into their Business Centre (an office with two PC’s and a printer), logged onto British Airways website and booked ourselves in for the flight the next night and printed out the Boarding Cards.
The holiday was definitely coming to an end. (Can you sense an air of sadness in this? Can you?).
We slept well and woke (yet again) before 6am so that we could get the cases packed, ready to be loaded onto the coach.
We armed ourselves with our Breakfast Vouchers and headed for the restaurant. Well I say restaurant, probably café, would be a better description.
There was a small semi circular self service section, where you queued to pick up your various breakfast items and a load of tables opposite, although clearly not enough to seat all of the hotel guests.
As you may remember, we were on an exclusive English speaking coach, but throughout the week we had been shadowed by, or should I say we shadowed another coach which was exclusively German. And it seemed that throughout the week, although we would sometimes set off first the Germans would always beat us to the next destination.
It soon became apparent that the Germans had beaten us to breakfast as well, although I didn’t see serviettes laid out on chairs to reserve them, I wouldn’t have put it past them!
Being British we dutifully joined the queue and collected out trays and hot drinks, myself at the front followed by Mrs Dave and Natasha behind. It was a slow moving queue, so you had to adopt the; “shuffle, shuffle” approach, just taking little steps until you reached the next section.
Pick up tray, shuffle, shuffle. Fill cup with coffee, shuffle, shuffle. Add milk to coffee, shuffle, shuffle. You get the idea.
As we rounded the corner to shuffle into the cereal section, I could sense a presence to my left, which was clearly not Mrs Dave. I glanced to my side, no that’s not Mrs Dave, she’s not that big.
As I glanced up, this body seem to go up and up and I had to crane my neck to catch sight of the head on top of this massive body.
He, for there was a beard, was clearly a German. I’m not sure whether it was the Hitler haircut or the letters; N, A, Z & I tattoo’d on his knuckles that gave it away. I’m joking!
He was wearing lederhosen.
Now, I’m not saying he was really, really massive, but I was strangely drawn to him, probably because he had his own gravitational force, pulling me in! He was like a little planet, he had already attracted several boiled eggs, that were orbiting him!
I’m still joking.
Anyway this big Kraut, had managed to slip unnoticed in front of Mrs Dave and he was clearly intent on getting to the fried food section as soon as possible.
Well I was having none of it!
I stopped doing the “shuffle, shuffle” and just did a “shuffle”.
Ah! Eggy bread (or whatever they call it in the States). I’ll have some of that.
I “Shuffle”.
Kraut tries; “shuffle, shuffle”.
Ah! Hash Browns. I ‘ll have one of them.
I “Shuffle”.
Kraut tries; “shuffle, shuffle”.
German hand reaches out over my tray space, and grabs a hash brown.
I tut loudly, throw him a glance of disdain and “shuffle”.
Kraut tries; “shuffle, shuffle”.
Ooh! Sausages. I like sausages. I take my time with the tongs and pop three onto my plate.
I replace the tongs, Krauty sees his chance, sticks out his fat arm with his German sausage like fingers on the end and goes to grab the tongs, but in the process pushes me.
Well, I’m not standing for this! I grab my tray and turn to him and shout;
“I know what! Why don’t you go first, as you clearly haven’t grasped the concept of queuing in an orderly fashion”! And I took a big step back.
Immediately he dives in, grabs as many sausages as the tongs will hold, mutters; “thank you” in a German accent and waddles quickly off, probably to rejoin his Wife Helga and their youngest son Adolf, who are here on vacation.
I shout after him; “ignorant Kr…….”, but decide to emphasise the word; “ignorant” and not say Kraut for fear of an international debacle.
And to top it all there was no bloody bacon!!
I slip off the end of the shuffling queue, pour a couple of glasses of orange juice and look around to see how Mrs & Little Miss Dave are doing. They’ve nearly shuffled around to the end as well.
Just as I was looking, a waiter came out with another bucket of bacon, which he empties into the hot plate. So international relations or not, I dive back into the queue, grab a handful of bacon and slope off to eat breakfast.
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