Road Trip

There is so much I have been waiting to write in here, but the lull of summer keeps drawing me back. Now there’s about two and a half weeks of summer left. There are moments these days when a vague excitement rises in me, and I begin looking forward to college despite knowing too well I am more nervous about it than anything. I think it started when I got my room assignments. I will be rooming with three other people in a three-room suite, among them a fellow from Zimbabwe. His middle name is Happy. It will be my first time meeting anyone from Zimbabwe, and I figure it will be his first time meeting anyone from Southern California, maybe even his first time meeting an Asian. Hopefully I will make a good first impression.

These next series of posts will be dedicated to some of the major highlights of my summer thus far, starting with my road trip to Big Sur and Monterey Bay.

Never mind that some of the trails in Big Sur were closed due to last year’s forest fire, that the Monterey Bay Aquarium did not actually have all the exhibits listed on its web site, or that planning the four-day trip was a mo’fucking hassle. This was a legit road trip, and my perception of how great it was will only sweeten as time passes. Seth, Charlie, Peter, and Erik: thanks for an amazing time.

1st DAY: Started out at 11:30 a.m. [Seth] Drove the 5 ½ hours to our lodging, Carmel Mission Inn in Carmel-by-the-sea. Stopped along the way to refill gas and grab Jack-in-the-Box. On a two-way, two-lane freeway, we were stuck behind a single European mother driving a navy blue jeep, which was stuck behind an unjustly large white square trailer. Cheered on the single mother to make the bold pass while no cars came in the other lane. After much craning of her neck, the mother overcame her fear, possibly adopted an attitude of cruel nihilism, and made the brave maneuver, which we executed moments later (on both the mother and the trailer). Miles up ahead, we faced a similar challenge: tired of tailgating a sluggish transport truck, we attempted a pass and came too close to crashing with the vehicle in the other lane because the trucker suddenly saw it as a symbolic battle of masculinity and sped up like a goddamn bastard.

Checked into Carmel Mission Inn at around 6. Enjoyed the 37’’ flat screen TV but did not enjoy getting my ass kicked in Halo. I come from the generation of Super Mario Bros and Dick Tracy so I didn’t stand a chance. Video games these days are too realistic. The fluid camera control, graphical precision, and painstaking ordeal of aiming before shooting make me feel like I’m really there. That must’ve been the case because the real me flinched every time the fake me got shot.

Had dinner at Tommy’s Wok, a Chinese cuisine. Before I describe the meal, I must explain something about Carmel-by-the-sea. Everything there is small and short. Street signs are at least half a foot lower than the ones in my neighborhood.



And there are many shops and restaurants lining the streets, but the catch is, you must find them first. They are not only crowded into small spaces but some of them are also located behind the single visible layer of stores lining the streets (that second layer is not visible on the next street over). Tourists must find street parking – which is very hard because there are apparently more cars than people in Carmel – and then carefully probe each nook and cranny to find dining.

It took us about 15 minutes to find Tommy’s Wok. We were exploring what seemed like a small alley that ran perpendicular to the sidewalk of the main street and at last we spotted the welcoming sign. The restaurant didn’t list its capacity but I would say any more than 20 people would’ve jeopardized the fire escape procedures. The entire restaurant was probably the size of a Sorrento home’s backyard. Maybe smaller. When the five of us walked in together, the waiter and manager both seemed bewildered. They acted as if they had never accommodated such a large group before. We saw an empty table for four and next to it, another empty table for two. Put four and two together, and you have six seats. The manager, though, seemed too baffled by the situation to see this easy solution, and instead told us to return in 15 minutes until the arrangements were ready. I think he just needed to compose himself.

The food? Quite delicious. We tried the chow mein, Orange chicken, duck, and a fourth dish I can’t remember, and they were all worthy of the compliments listed on the traveler’s guide. Surprisingly good Chinese food in an area with no Asians at all.




2nd DAY: Drove down highway 1 to Big Sur. It’s the scenic road, of course, and the overlooks of the ocean and inlets after every turn were breathtaking. In the morning, fog and cloud cast a gloomy shadow on the waters but in our return trip later in the afternoon, the sun gave the ocean an entirely new character. We hiked about three or four miles in Big Sur. It was disappointing that some trails leading to vista points were closed, but we were too tired by the end of the day to try another trail anyway. We did reach one vista point, and the view of the forests for miles around was awesome. The fresh air and smell of trees never get old. On our drive back, we stopped along the highway because the ocean was ridiculously blue. It’s funny that it was my first time seeing the real color of the ocean, the color an ocean is supposed to be. The vast majestic blueness (uninterrupted save for little cute rock islands) and the sun-bathed meadows that hug the coastline made for an amazing panorama.

For lunch, we had soggy Subway sandwiches. I had come up with the idiotic idea (any idea sounds fucking brilliant when you first think of it) of trying to preserve the sandwiches we bought in the morning with ice, and the ice melted and soaked the sandwiches.



Dinner was better for pretty much all of us except Erik. We went to Club Jalapeno, a dimly lit bar and restaurant that, well, didn’t actually resemble a club in any way or form. In fact, they gave us red non-reusable plastic cups for water, which are usually found at Mexican family get-together’s at your nearest public parks. Anyway, the reason Erik didn’t enjoy his dinner is that he’s a risk-taker. He ordered the House Specialty, an enchilada with the “Oaxacan mole” sauce. The rest of us had thought about getting it too but we didn’t know what it would taste like. And that can yield either a very pleasant result or a downright shitty one. In Erik’s case, the latter. Oaxaca is a southeastern region of Mexico that was initially occupied by Zapotec people, lovers of the chili pepper and tomato, which are the two fundamental ingredients of mole sauce. After watching the mole sauce’s effects on Erik, I now understand why the Zapotec people were so easily conquered. It was easy to see from his first bite that he detested the taste of it. But curiously, as Erik miserably consumed spoonful after spoonful, his very vitality seemed to be slipping from him. He became languid and sluggish, his speech slurred, and his eyes rolled about lazily. Erik seemed to clear up a bit after drinking water, but he is now a mole hater for life.

3rd DAY: Had some difficulty in finding Cottage Restaurant, our pick for breakfast. But the search was worth it because all of us, including Erik, enjoyed our meals. Their specialty was a kind of fat sausage called “Baby bangers”. The kindly old white lady who took our orders seemed to be aware of the unfortunate name and simply referred to them as “bangers.”

We went to Monterey Bay Aquarium. To be honest, the size of their collection disappointed me. I was expecting to see more exotic species, especially because they were mentioned on the aquarium website. What made up for it, though, was the series of astonishingly large fish tanks that reminded me of ocean’s and mother nature’s vastness.



Giant sea bass and tuna look even more intimidating when they have space to move about. Schools of fish are also extensively featured at Monterey Bay; there is one tank in the shape of a giant glass ring full of busy conforming masses of sardines.

My favorite creature was this sand crab that hides in burrows under the sediment floor and then tragically flounders in seemingly uncontrolled motion as it rises upward. It reminded me of Hau on the basketball court.

After going through all the exhibits, we went out to a kind of boardwalk that overlooks the ocean. The aquarium is located right at the edge of the coast, and we could see the water for miles around. We spotted a small colony of seals and otters basking atop some jutting rocks in the warm afternoon sun. They were lazy sons of bitches and shifted their weight uncomfortably as the tide started rolling back. One seal, positioned on its side, strained to lift its head above the water even as the rest of its body was nearly submerged. I am tempted to say it is something Kevin Yoon would do, but I know it’s not true. He would say to his comrades, “Hey bro, it’s time to move to higher rocks” and then with surprising nimbleness and that quick triumphant smile of his, find a more permanent abode.

Dinner was at Persian Grill. Coming in, we had huge expectations because we had read rather a scintillating review: “ZOMG. BEST. LAMB. EVAR.” Now I should’ve known better than to trust a human being who uses “zomg”, but I have a soft side for lamb and so did the rest of the guys. The restaurant interior certainly looked legit. On the walls hung drawings of ancient gods and buildings, gilded with glorious gold, and subtle spices and fragrances formed visions of ancient Persia in our minds (I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. I don’t even know where Persia was/is.) When it came to ordering, I actually ended up not getting lamb because it was a bit pricey. I ordered chicken instead, and Seth, Erik, and Peter got lamb. Charlie got something else. When our dishes arrived, though, they were very much similar in a surprising way. One side of the oval plates was adorned by a single layer of meat. Mathematically speaking, the total surface area taken up by the meat would be about 15%. The rest of the dish? Rice. Rice and rice and rice. There must’ve been a rice factory in the kitchen with Oompa loompas running giant chaffing machinery. The restaurant could feed all the starving children in North Korea, and it would still have rice left over to help children in the South. If this was an accurate representation of ancient Persians’ diet… then we know why Persia doesn’t exist anymore. Just kidding. But I am not kidding when I say I have not seen so much rice before. And I eat rice every day.

There was another surprise waiting for us, however. The man who ate the most rice out of all of us was… Seth. The American. He finished all of his rice. And then Peter’s leftovers. And then my leftovers. That man is a beast. I’m glad someone finished his rice because I wanted to see if there was a congratulatory note hidden under the mountain of rice. There wasn’t.

4th DAY: We come home! Seth draws power from the 2 tons of rice he devoured the previous day and drives for another 6 hours straight.

Epic.