The most enchanting coastal town
Every time I go to this tiny city of about 3 000 residents, I feel like I am experiencing a different reality as I never get tired of walking on the undulated or earthquake-wrinkled sidewalks, marveling at the artist's life that I crave for while browsing at countless art galleries.
Last weekend, while my ducklings were well situated and having their age-appropriate, teen-bonding experiences (whether at an amusement park or nail salon), I had the golden opportunity to jumpstart my own doc mama spring break with my companion in Monterey Bay. It is like I need my yearly fix of Carmel-by-the-Sea, with the obligatory stop at the Carmel Art Association, and some favorite shops.
Behind the wheel of Ken's Mustang, the nervousness of maneuvering this abrupt and oversized car replacing the range anxiety I would have had with my Nissan Leaf, I tackled the road to meet him and his son, where they had arrived the day before to get ready to play golf. Over three and a half hours and some traffic jams due to some other cars' crashes later, I arrived at the Inn at Spanish Bay, a sumptuous resort that felt too beautiful to be true (just so you know, this was Ken's own early birthday present to himself, which his son and I appreciatingly benefited from. I could have not afforded this at this stage of my life and with my current circumstances). I hadn't even stopped for a bladder-emptying session. At the valet area, my boyfriend, in all his glorious enthusiasm, waved at me with his giant's hand, looking so radiant in his pale blue pants and white and navy shirt.
What can I say: everything was perfect. From the sunset to the togetherness with him and his son, to my morning jog each day, to the toiletries and the stationary in the room (my favorite hotel room paraphernalia), to the coffee machine (my second favorite... in fact, I might have overdone it in the caffeine department, with the Intenso and Diavolitto flavors !), to the hike at Point Lobos (where we saw near his mom a seal pup born just days ago), to the soup from the 5th Avenue Deli, to the bagpiper before sunset, to my boogie-boarding session at Del Monte Beach on my way back.
Barely 40 h, just like the duration of my memorable silent retreat many years ago in Vacaville, went by too fast. I am glad I didn't use the citrus and seagrass bath salts and put them in my luggage to make the experience last a little longer once I got home. And I stretched the experience, like I do whenever I travel the world, by bringing back simple yet comforting vacation samples such as tea bags, as a way to fondly remember the getaway. The treats at the Inn were so cool (including Ghirardelli hot cocoa pouches, and mini Bonne Maman honey jars) that I ended up creating a goody package to offer:
Ever since I discovered this place upon relocating to California around my first son's arrival in this world, I have accumulated very special memories. I have visited this place a few times with my sons and other dear people. I went there when life felt serene as much as when it felt chaotic and filled with nostalgia. I think it is good to revisit places that don't change much because their stability allows to do some integration of former difficult experiences. My life has been through many astonishing spirals lately, some episodes seeming to come back almost full circle to those unprocessed situations. This has led me to realize that integrating difficult emotions or chapters can only happen when life forces us to revisit them while at the same time gently offering something different, something positive to pair them with. They become easier to absorb and process. To integrate.
I am profoundly grateful for this. And for all the moments: family time, artistic inspiration time, ocean time, quiet time, processing time, integration time, serenity time. Thank you, life.
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