Well, I’ve barely tucked into the content (recollections, rants and photos) from my Pebble Beach trip. But at this point, the trip was 3 weeks ago! I still need to cover my subsequent trip to San Francisco and a recent evening fighting deer for homegrown heirloom tomatoes in La Cañada Flintridge. Let the record show that those Bambis know their expensive produce. Full account of how we fought hoof-to-hand over the season’s last figs to follow.
All this is to say I’ve got to hurry up. I can’t believe this relentless pace of life. Lately, I’ve also had another epiphany about my Egg Timer Jobs and my career plan, but I can’t even get to that with all these JPEGs of rocky crags swirling around my laptop.
So let’s recount the beautiful scenery of Pebble Beach. One of the area’s chief attractions is the 17-Mile Drive, a twisty trail of — guess what distance? — along which you can see trees, marine life and historical points. I knew I had to check out this particular tourist attraction, because 1) who knows when/if ever my non-golfing boyfriend and I would ever be back to Pebble Beach, 2) there was pretty much nothing else to do at the resort while he was tied up in his meetings besides plundering the eerily swiftly replenished Granny Smith apple basket and surreptitiously siphoning body wash from the pumps in the spa shower. (Do you detect a “Gotta Catch ‘Em All!” trend w/r/t my attitude towards hotel freebies? Also, w/r/t my overuse of adverbs?)
On Sunday morning, Deepak and I ran along another rocky beach. By this point, I’d reviewed my Point Lobos photos and realized 1) They looked great! 2) There were hardly any of them, since I was being weirdly lazy/oblivious to the scenery. So I attempted to remedy the situation by over-snapping photos during our run. This wasn’t ideal, because 1) The scenery was no Point Lobos, and 2) Snapping photos is terrible for your pace.
Now, as someone who’s lived in L.A. for several years, and worked in entertainment news, I understand that the etiquette is to play it cool when you see a star. But I must admit, I geeked out when my boyfriend and I saw SEAL!
We were inordinately excited to see the otters, seals and sea lions that populate Monterey. This is Deepak giving the seals a royal wave. Not to be confused with ocean wave.
Finally, we were there! To the Pebble Beach resort. This photo doesn’t capture the restaurant window view I was attempting to show, which was gorgeous.
Then, as seen here, we met up with a small child with a yen for coconut chiffon cake. He knows what he likes!
One thing he does not care for: coloring inside the lines.
Too many desserts. My drunken impulse (because dinner was served with copious wine) is to absent-mindedly inspect each chocolate and take random bites. Luckily (?), Deepak’s drunken impulse is to bark at me: “DON’T EAT THAT!”
Finally, once installed at the resort, we made use of the world-famous links. …To run on.
Oh deer! (She probably wants some of our figs.)
Can you spot Deepak? If you do, please don’t draw any unflattering conclusions about how far behind him I must have been to take this picture!
Time for the post-workout repast: A completely carbohy-rageous “continental breakfast.” Which could only mean that eating it all would make you the size of a continent.
Then, I drove the highlights of the 17-Mile Drive by myself. This photo isn’t even that great, but it’s one of only a few panoramas I took during the trip, foolishly, so her it goes. *shakes fist at sky while screaming “Point Lobos!”*
Quick stop to neighboring course Spyglass.
This series of photos was in the bathroom. I was intrigued by Spyglass’ emphasis on inclusiveness and co-ed membership. That’s not a golf tradition, is it? (Basing my education off Augusta National’s just-now-lifted ban on female members.)
This was some kind of seal lookout for those with better-trained eyes than I have. I tried to lure the animals by serenading them with “Kiss From a Rose,” but no dice.
Scenic! Missed opportunity for an infinity pool, but I won’t critique the architectural decisions of a golf resort.
Some centuries-old cypress that we’re to keep our distance from and revere
Finally, it was time to light the hearth and go to sleep. Deepak played Vesta. The analogy holds except that he’s not female, or Roman. (Side note, in case my grandmother is reading and extrapolating that we shared a hotel room: He is, however, still a virgin!)
