A statue of a man on a horse fighting a bear. Badass? Yes. Sensible? Absolutely not. I thought this state was environmentally friendly: why in the world do they have two animals attacking each other on the capitol? Don't claim it's the man's fault either: the bear is clearly the aggressor here by the look of fear on the horses face. If this statue says anything, it's, "Kill all the bears," which makes me think Stephen Colbert might've designed it. Still, the building's detailed architecture is impressive. It's a pretty clear U.S. capitol ripoff though.
In front of the capitol are 2 statues to commemorate fallen police officers, 1 for soldiers of Spanish descent, and what may be the world's largest penny. Around back is a park with a slew of other statues. There's one celebrating a group of nuns,...
...Thomas Starr King, whom Abraham Lincoln credited with preventing California's Union separation during the Civil War,...
...Father Junipero Serra, who started many California missions in an attempt to convert Native Americans to Christianity,...
...several for firemen,...
...and one for soldiers of all military branches as well as those who received The Purple Heart.
While seeing the memorials, I received texts from my friend Anna in Aiken:
"Are you going to be back in town by May 16? If so, we need you to be a spandex-clad superhero. Please advise."
"I might be actually..."
"Excellent! I'll take that as a commitment."
When people ask you to wear spandex from the other side of the country, you know you've got a reputation, it's just questionable whether it's good or not.
I'm not a big wine drinker, but visiting a winery in Napa Valley seems like a once in a lifetime opportunity, so my next destination is Artesa Vineyard and Winery: for 20$ I get to tour the facility and taste 3 wines.
"Holy ****. This place is fancy as ****." The words leave my mouth soon after leaving my car. Aside from the, in my opinion, awful artwork in front of the steps...
...everything here is ridiculously beautiful. Don't mistake that for being the most beautiful. I'm saying, it's literally ridiculous how beautiful it looks. This place should only exist in a Disney movie.
The tours are first come first served so I'm here 15 minutes early. Due to this, the guide pours me a free glass of wine while I wait. Once the tour starts, the guide brings something up: there are three parties in our group, and she says to one of them,
Guide: "And you are from..."
Party 1: "...North Carolina..."
Guide: "...and you are from..."
Party 2: "...South Carolina..."
Guide: "...and he is from South Carolina as well, here on a road trip. We rarely get people as far as you, and you're all from the same area."
That's surprising; guess I can't be too much of a jackass here. I think the NC couple were from Charlotte and the SC couple from Greenville. I didn't learn much about the SC people, but the NC guy was an engineer at IBM who had recently retired. I asked him how it was there and he said, "It's a job." IBM seems like an, "It's a job," company, so I'm not too surprised.
I don't remember exactly what the guide said about those sticks, but I think they're called trellis and they help support growing grape vines, ensuring they don't collapse under their own weight and helping them grow outward so all areas of the plant get sunlight. I do remember her saying the particular number of horizontal sticks Artesa used on their trellis had changed with time, but they finally determined 3 was the best number to have. I also learned most types of wine I'd heard of, such as chardonnay, pinot noir, and the other popular ones, are named after the grapes they use. When I go to the grocery store, there's "red" and "white" grapes, so I thought only the color of the wine was named after the grape and figured the different types were made through different processes: incorrect. There are chardonnay grapes and pinot noir grapes and so on, all which their wine types are named after.
At one point, Artesa was overrun by some small creatures that were eating all the grapes: coyotes or gerbils or something, I don't remember. But the natural enemy of said creatures was the owl, so they moved in a species or two and are now considered an owl preserve, hence why they have bird houses on their property.
We go inside and have another wine poured while the guide tells us about some art on the wall that wasn't interesting enough to me to remember about, but there it is in case you like it. After, the guide says, "So the first thing you do during a wine tasting is look at the wine." This is well after I've had 2 or 3 sips: I was unaware we were waiting. But I look anyway. The different colors give an idea of...whether it's red or white I guess. She was talking about how beautiful the light looked through it and I was still trying to figure out how long we were supposed to wait to drink it, so I wasn't paying a lot of attention at that point.
Next, she said, you swirl the wine around to oxygenate it, as well as noting how the thin layer that sticks to the sides of the glass drips down. These drips are called "legs" in the wine world, and the slower they drip means the more alcohol and/or sugar they have. Next, you sniff it by putting your nose into the glass. The idea, I think, is to enjoy the wine with as many senses as possible. Finally, we have a sip.
On a test taste, you're supposed to swish the wine around your entire mouth and on every part of your tongue. Biting is also encouraged, as well as having another sip with your lips loose to breath in oxygen while drinking. Trying this, I was surprised how significantly the taste changed. The guide also mentioned how a thinner glass makes the wine taste better, something she'd tried herself, being skeptical when she first heard it.
We continue to a courtyard where a statue of Mother Mary (I guess) is in a shallow pool of water. The building is set up in such a way there's 4 objects in line with each other: the statue, an outside column (like the ones seen in the picture), the courtyard wall (made completely of windows), and another column (inside). I say this so you understand what's happening when the guide says to the NC guy,
"You're an engineer, so maybe you can explain this. When I stand right here...look at that window: I can see the statue's reflection in the [inside] column."
"Yeah..."
"But [the outside] column is between the statue and the window, so how does her reflection look like it's on [the inside] column? That just amazes me."
Are you...is she asking how reflection works? I look around the group to see if anyone else is as perplexed at the question as I am, but it seems to just be me, though I'm pretty sure the engineer was thinking, "What are you asking me for?" as he responded to her, "Yeah, well, it's got to do with the angle of light refraction I'm sure. I'm an electrical engineer so it's not really my expertise. You'd have to get an optics specialist to tell you." She needs to use Google.
Before going downstairs, we're poured 2 glasses of wine to compare to each other. I forgot what the difference was between them, but I'd officially had 4 glasses of wine poured now which is 1 more than the tour promised.
The 1st wine taste like dirt; I question if that was intended. The guide then says, "Do you get a taste of that fresh, Earthy aroma?" So yes, it's supposed to taste like dirt.
Once to the bottom of the stairs, the guide ask us which of the two we prefer. As she goes down the line, everybody gives the name of the wine they like. I have no idea what the names are, so I say, "The 2nd one you poured." There's a look of impatient disappointment from the guide, similar to what my 12th grade English teacher often gave me. As a side note, that teacher can suck it, because everybody who reads my blog says they like it.
We're taken to the packaging room where bottles are filled, placed in boxes, and sealed for shipping.
There's also lots of filled barrels in this room.
Every so often, the barrels are placed on this device and rolled around so sediment doesn't get settled in the bottom of them.
This very shaky picture is of a barrel plug. The plug itself isn't particularly interesting, but the fact they put it in a dixie cup first was. I imagine this ensures them a tighter seal.
While downstairs, the guide told us about 2 crops of identical grapes that were grown in the exact same way except for the soil they were planted in. The 2 crops, even though they were grown and processed the same way, produced different tasting wines due to being planted in separate places. I don't recall for sure, but one of them might've been on a hill and the other flatland which would add some sense to the taste change due to water settling on the flatland and not the hill. We talked about it enough that once we returned upstairs, the guide decided we should try them both, and they did taste significantly different.
After those 2, we finished the tour with a glass of sparkling wine, making a total of 7 glasses of wine and a tour for 20$: not a bad deal. Looking it up now, they've since changed their tour to 30$ with 6 wine tastings, but I'd still suggest going: Artesa was far more enjoyable than I'd expected as a liquor drinker.
My next destination is the Suisun Bay Reserve Fleet which I learned about through the good people at Cracked.com. For those who don't know, the Suisun Reserve is a Mothball Fleet, which is a fleet of fully operational military ships not currently in use. They're parked in the water until, if ever, the military has a use for them. From pictures I've seen, there can be dozens of ships of different kinds parked at the bay, which seemed like a cool thing to see. But issues begin when I first try getting to the coast. My GPS takes me until about 800 yards away and I slam on my brakes. Backing up a few feet I look over to see something that barely caught my eye:
I was about roll into a restricted, military equipment facility like I owned the place. You probably wanna put something a little more obvious than a sign up if you're preventing public access to battleships.
Unable to find an alternate view, I get lunch at Pacific Pizza, ask an employee where I can see the ships from, and am given directions to a Vista Point. I'd followed signs for a Vista earlier, but they stopped showing up before I found it, so I turned around. Looking for the pizza man's Vista, the same thing happened, and I ended up in some sort of car rental compound.
I decide to try again for the original Vista but get on the interstate the wrong way. Turning around, I find myself at a toll gate. Where the hell did this come from? Not feeling bold enough to do a u-turn on the interstate, I pay 5$ to get back to where I just was. Making it to the original Vista signs, I find a final, unmarked turn up a hill to the parking lot.
Finally getting to see the ships, which now cost me 5$ admission, I'm underwhelmed. As I said, I'd seen pictures of Suisun where there were dozens of ships. These are the ones I saw:
By my count, that's 11. I almost had that many glasses of wine today. While unimpressed, it's a nice spot to relax and eat pizza. Done, I make my way to today's final destination: San Francisco.
Going in, I had no idea what to expect in San Francisco aside from some overly flamboyant individuals. So first entering the peninsula, I-freak-out. Never have I been so worried about committing manslaughter. There are so many people using so many modes of transportation packed onto such small streets that I'm sure to kill somebody: it's statistically guaranteed.
For those equally San Francisco ignorant, it's like Charleston, SC, except much larger, 4 and 6 lanes instead of 2 and 4, and, literally, 15 times more densely populated. That's 15 times denser cars, buses, bikes, and pedestrians. Every time a cyclist squeezes between the narrow lanes, I think, "Please don't kill him, please don't kill him, please don't kill him" and for every bus spilling out of his lane into mine, "Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me." And good luck safely changing lanes when almost nobody keeps a car length between them. The pedestrians do well about not jaywalking, but with so much confusion, I've got no idea who's allowed to walk and who isn't, so I keep expecting somebody to walk off the curb in front of me.
I can't find parking for the life of me or anyone I might run over. I'm looking for a garage but can't find one: I had to pay a toll to get into the city but can't throw money at someone to park here. I decide to just go straight. If I'm going straight, I know pedestrians won't be allowed to walk in front of me. Ha! I beat you at your own game pedestrians whom I somehow assume wanted me to almost run them over to cause me stress.
Eventually, I get to a less populated area and find a free parking spot that's, ironically, on the same block as a parking garage. Ready to tour, I walk 20 minutes or so to Chinatown...
...but not before viewing a 90s boombox hung on the finger of a firemen's memorial.
I quickly realize Chinatown isn't what I thought it was. Then I realize I don't know what I thought it was. What Chinatown is, is a part of San Francisco people of Chinese descent happen to own, operate, and shop at. The text along the streets are in, and people are speaking, Mandarin...and that's pretty much it. It feels like you walked through China for a few blocks. Did I think it was a theme park or something? Did I think there would be a parade of dragons roaming the streets? Then I realize what I thought: I thought I'd see Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker running through the streets chasing bad guys. My entire mental image of Chinatown was based on the Rush Hour movies. It was stupid of me to ever think that: this is San Francisco's Chinatown and Rush Hour was set in Los Angeles; what a fool I've been.
While it wasn't as action packed as expected, Chinatown is still an interesting place. The majority of the shops are markets that open up to the street (several using roll up doors). It's hard for me to believe there's enough people wanting the same fresh produce and meats for them to all make money, but each one is packed full of people, with the exception of one that smelled like garbage: maybe they specialize in durian.
It really feels how I think being in China would, right down to the dump truck modified pickup.
After Chinatown, I look for a way to charge my phone. It's about to die, and I'm supposed to meet with someone who's hosting me tonight. In a strange, lucky, twist of fate, my friend Joey, who lives in Aiken, is flying into San Francisco today. Joey works for a company that's contracted out to clean up environmental hazards. On this job, for instance, there's a company that's had several boats sitting in the water that have started to pollute it. Joey's employer was contacted to clean up the water for them, I assume because the company is either being environmentally responsible or will get in trouble if they don't. Joey's employer then moves an available team to the location until they get the job done. Joey saw my schedule update and messaged me, so I'm waiting on a text that he and his teammates have landed.
Too scared to drive anywhere, I sit in my car and charge my phone through my laptop. After a while, I get a text from Joey saying they've landed and decided to eat at Red Lobster. My first thought is, "Why would you come all the way to San Francisco and eat at Red Lobster?" but I'm not gonna complain. Joey gives me the street address and zip code of the particular Red Lobster, so I GPS the street address. By the time I'm 3 minutes away, it's already dark, but I see a parking garage and decide to take advantage. The garage says it closes at 10:00P and it's about 8:30P. I'm not sure how long Joey and his crew want to stay out, but I figure I can move it later if we're not done yet. On the corner of the garage is a huge group of police. I'd nearly forgotten, but it's Saint Patrick's Day: they must be waiting for any big calls.
The walk to Red Lobster should take 10-15 minutes. Heading down the street, I walk through the first intersection and a man passing me says, "You need anything?" "No thanks." I'm not sure if he wanted to sell me drugs or is going out with the woman I was checking out. Walking through the next intersection, a different man ask me, "You need some crystal?" "No thanks." He was definitely trying to sell me drugs. I used to own a jacket people said I looked like a drug dealer in. Apparently my new one makes me look like a buyer.
The dealers aren't particularly intimidating: they're just looking for a sell, not to start trouble like the Flagstaff one might've, but with okay drug dealers comes rough drug dealers, and with rough drug dealers comes rough drug users, and soon you're being stabbed in a San Francisco alley for crack money. Suddenly not wanting to walk 15 minutes to my car alone at 10, I decide to turn around and park closer. On my way back, a man tells me, "I got that green, I got that glass." Haven't you already asked me? "Nah, but thanks man." "What was that?" "NO THANKS." Do both the officers and drug dealers on this street not realize they're a block from each other? If I didn't believe in the philosophy of "minding your own business" so much, I'd contract myself to the police and the country would cease to have drug dealers. My only sensible explanation is maybe it was a sting operation. Walking through the officers to get to the garage, one of them suddenly stops talking and gives me a look, like I might be committing illegal acts.
I have a disease.
GPSing the address Joey gave me, I decide to add the zip code this time, just for kicks...I'm in the entirely wrong city. Apparently, there's an identical street address in San Francisco, but the zip code is in San Bruno, a city south of here.
It took me a while to get to the incorrect address, so by the time I get there, Joey and his teammates (two other guys) have already finished. The other two head to the motel and Joey and I take my car to find something for me to eat and some items he needs. The only open restaurant around seems to be Taco Bell, so joke's on me, they came across the country to eat Red Lobster, but I came to eat Taco Bell. Also, the cash register broke right before I ordered, so there's that.
Joey's room has 1 bed, but I bought camping supplies before starting my trip which includes a blow up mattress. Ironically, using it in a motel will be the first time I've used it. Joey, as a working folk, has to leave earlier than me, but I still get up fairly early to catch a ferry to Alcatraz. The ferry takes off from Fisherman's Wharf, a spot that's famous for I don't know what. Both my aunt and, later, Joey asked if I got to see it though, so it's important apparently.
From the boat I can see the Golden Gate on one side...
...and on the other, the "Other Bridge".
I later found out Other Bridge is officially the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge, and it's not only longer, has more lanes, and is on average cheaper than the Golden Gate, but appears more structurally stable to me. Overall, it seems more deserving of fame.
Alcatraz wasn't built to be a prison; it was originally a military base, then a prison, and after that was occupied several times by Native American protesters which explains some of the markings you'll see in my pictures.
We dock in front of the apartments, which is where soldiers and then guards that worked on the island could live with their families.
This building was called The Chapel because of how it looked but was actually used for bachelor guards to live in.
This is a standard Alcatrazian cell. It came with a bed, sink, toilet, and a couple shelves:
A pretty nice courtyard:
And this is a solitary confinement cell...
...I've never understood what the big deal is about solitary confinement. You're living in an environment where you're always told what to do and there's a constant threat of being stabbed, but you're supposed to be scared of being left alone in the dark? Maybe it's because I grew up more solitary, but I'd be tempted to punch the guard that let me out like Steve Zahn in National Security.
The library:
This is a key hook hung on the second level. When a guard was on the first level, a guard on the second would lower the hook for him to put his key on so a prisoner couldn't take it off of him.
On one part of the island is a beautiful view of San Francisco to help remind prisoners where they weren't allowed to be.
There's also an area closed off seasonally for seagull mating.
There was an audio tour that included 2 major stories. The first, of the bloodiest escape attempt Alcatraz ever had which went more or less like this: several prisoners overpowered some guards, got their keys and guns, and planned to walk through the courtyard to a docking boat and use the guards as hostages to get on. The problem is they jammed the courtyard lock going through the wrong keys. As guards surrounded the area, the inmates realized they were stuck and decided to execute the hostages so they couldn't testify against them.
Marines were called in and dropped grenades through the roof, causing blast damage to the floor shown in the picture above. The inmates were still alive, so shots were fired on them throughout the night. The next day, they were finally found dead.
The other story is about the only known successful breakout of Alcatraz, though "successful" is a subjective term considering the escapees may have died. The inmates escaped by first digging out their cell vents with spoons that happened to be made out of steel I believe: normal spoons wouldn't have survived the dig. They then headed for San Fran on a raft made of raincoats never to be found. They also made fake heads, so in the morning, the guards thought they were refusing to get out of bed. The first guard to check one of them shook the fake head off and jumped back, thinking the inmate's real head had fallen off, and yelled at another guard, "Don't touch him!" in reference to one of the other fake inmates.
In Alcatraz's kitchen was a silhouetted knife holder so a guard could quickly tell if a knife was missing and what it looked like. A story told in the kitchen was that when the prison first opened, the food was alright. But over time, it got worse to the point they served a spaghetti so bad, some of the inmates said they'd riot the next time it was served. And so, the next time it was served, they rioted. End of story.
Leaving Alcatraz, I want some sushi for lunch. I have a friend in Aiken from California who hates our local sushi place, Takosushi. I love it, but she says California is hands down the best place for sushi in America, so I wanted to try it out. I was gonna go through a whole review, but I'll just say, "It's alright." I don't mind getting my sushi from Carolina.
The place I ate gave huge portions and I ordered quite a sampling, so completely stuffed, I head to Lombard Street which happens to involve walking up a very long, steep hill and it's very hot outside, so my first thought is, "Sushi was a bad idea," but I manage to keep it in my stomach.
That's Lombard Street...and that's pretty much all I can tell you. I suppose I can include the fact that though this one specific area is what Lombard Street is known for, Lombard Street actually goes across the entire city like any other street, it's not just this curvy part.
At the top of Lombard is a cable car stop which leads to my next activity. Riding a cable car is a unique and fun experience overall, but it still had rough moments. Getting on, I didn't have to buy a ticket. I figured maybe it was free for tourism purposes. But while there's a man at the front driving, there's one in the back doing I don't know what who after a few stops started walking through the car saying, "Okay, who's new on the car? You just got on the car, right?" I was fine with buying a ticket, but he asked with the aggression of a Gestapo: "Okay, who's hiding Jews? You just started hiding Jews, right?" But he had an African accent, so he reminded me more of the bad guy from Blood Diamond: "Okay, who's hiding diamonds? You just started hiding diamonds, right?"
I'm not sure how the car operates, but seeing the conductor drive is another rough part. There's a lot of sudden, tight movements in a cable car as the conductor yanks back and forth on a stick coming out the middle of the floor.
I ride until I reach the Cable Car Museum. Walking in, I'm facing this giant wheel, probably 4-5 feet across. I have no idea how this relates to cable cars: nothing on the car looked like this. I head downstairs and find a single, small room, with windows in the walls. Are they showing us their basement? This makes no sense. Looking through the windows, I see this:
I've got no idea what this is either, so I start reading and am very suddenly excited with curiosity. Here are 3 things you'll see along the roads of San Francisco: cable cars, metal bordered gaps in the asphalt, and wires hanging across the road. I'd always put them together in my mind as sort've a bumper car system: the cable cars ride in the metal gaps for direction and the wires give them electricity to run. I hadn't noticed the cable cars don't actually touch the wires above the road: the wires are for streetcars. The cable cars don't use electricity at all. Within the metal gaps in the road are moving cables the cars grab on to. The cables run throughout the entire city and are put in motion here at the museum. The picture above is of several giant spinning disks, similar to the giant wheel, that help direct the cables through the city.
This is the spin up room, it's where the power to move the cars comes from. There are 4 sets of wheels because there are 4 cables. At the front of each set of wheels are two wheels that spin to move the cables. There are two of them rather than 1 to increase traction: the cables run a figure 8 on the 2 wheels to gain friction from both to prevent the cable from slipping. The 3rd wheel, which is the one away from the other 2, is meant to keep slack out of the cable.
This is the grip, which is the stick I saw the conductor yanking on (thank goodness it wasn't another). The bottom of the stick is basically a little crab claw. The conductor can open or close the claw different amounts, causing the car to go slow, fast, or stop completely. Due to the aggressive way the cables are grabbed, they start to fray with time. Because of this, cables are periodically replaced as part of routine maintenance.
The Cable Car Museum joins Artesa in being vastly more interesting than expected: I'd definitely suggest it.
My next destination is the Golden Gate Bridge, but on the way there, I take a picture of this:
The owner of that van is gonna be pissed when he gets out.
And this is the Golden Gate Bridge...
...which happens to be over an ocean...
...which happens to be bordered by a military base. The base was used in a slew of wars to help protect San Francisco Bay before becoming a park.
So far, I'd seen very little flamboyant activity in San Francisco. It was nice to see the citizens were just normal, easy going people. But while walking a ridge to the Golden Gate, I couldn't help but notice a man in a speedo waving around what appeared to be bright tie-dye flags. Obviously, a lot of questions shot through my mind. Why was this man waving flags on the beach? Why did he choose bright tie-dye as his color of choice? Why does he prefer a speedo over trunks? This man is free to do as he pleases, but I can't help but wonder the hell he's doing. And while I'll probably never know, I have to be thankful to him for making my trip more memorable in a very bizarre way.
Starting to walk the bridge, I see another one of California's stern warnings about being checked by radar. Apparently, they take people walking over 45mph very seriously. Similar signs are all over the state. My favorite is "Speed Enforced by Radar". Are you telling me the radar gun itself makes me slow down? Is it some sort of transformer or robocop that chases me after taking my speed? Or do you mean the police have radars and they enforce the speed? This state has police? I had no idea. I came to California just to drive 5 over everywhere I went without getting arrested. At one point, I was trying to find something to eat on the interstate, and every time I passed an exit, I'd see a restaurant but had no idea it was there beforehand because the exit didn't have those blue restaurant/gas signs that tell you what's there. "Why in the world is California the only state to not have service signs at every exit?" I thought before realizing, it's because they spent all their traffic budget on "Speed Enforced by Radar" signs.
Yes, California, I think your speed enforcement signs are a joke.
Anyway, here's some more pictures of the bridge and some neat things I saw while on it:
An interesting note: when I put my hand up to that cable, I felt it vibrating. It didn't stop either: it just kept moving for, I assume, as long as there were cars on the bridge.
Leaving the bridge, I meet Joey and one of his teammates at a bar by the motel. There, he and I talk about what I saw. Joey and I have something in common in that, at one point in his life, he also decided to leave everything behind and travel the country, so we get to discuss the different things we saw in SF, and he points out I didn't eat Rice-O-Roni while there: truly, a missed opportunity.
I stay another night, but early the next day I head to San Jose. But before arriving, I get my oil changed. My brake light has also been going off, but I want to see if the mechanic says anything on his own.
"Here is an inspection we gave your car. Your rear brakes are good, pads are at 90%, your front rotors need to be changed though, pads at 10%." Eat me. I know how to change the front pads, so I'll do that, and if the brake light goes off and they don't squeal, I'm not replacing jack. I go to an auto parts store and ask, "If I buy pads from here, can I replace them in the lot?" "Oh, no, sorry, you can't do any mechanical work here." This is another one of those scenarios you can only get into living on the road; I know how to work on my car, but there's nowhere I'm allowed to work on my car: what do? I decide to buy the pads and I'll change them at a Rest Area sometime.
My next stop is Googleplex, also known as Google Headquarters. For those who don't know, Google is well renowned for it's work environment. Free food, free cafe, slides to get you down levels, relaxation pods, and all sorts of other crazy stuff. Surprisingly, when I looked for tour information, I found nothing. So when I get there, I just ride around, looking for any visitor friendly areas. What I discovered was the place is huge. I thought Google Headquarters would be one to a few really big buildings, but it was like visiting a college. And not my college that was 2 stories in a 4 story building, a real college. I'd heard the Android area had statues out front, but I couldn't tell what building was what, so I never found it. I saw plenty of Google's bicycles though:
Google's bicycles are set out so employees can ride around the complex, which makes a lot more sense now that I know how spread out it is. I also saw a few cargo trucks pulled over with people in the back doing maintenance on bikes.
This is Google's soccer field/recreation area, including several solar panels in the background.
Finally seeing a sign saying "Visitor Parking" outside 3 large buildings, I pull into a spot, and the first thing that happens is an employee walking by gives me a look of unlimited disgust. "What's his problem?" I think. Getting out, I look at my car and realize his problem: back in Arcata when I stayed in a hotel, I parked under a tree. Coming out the next day, there was bird crap all over the roof: it stuck all the way here and I've just been judged by a Google employee for having it.
Walking to an entrance, I read words expressing it is not for visitors, so I walk to a further door. Getting closer, it doesn't look like a visitor's entrance either. Continually looking, I hear an employee on his phone speaking another language. I couldn't tell what language, but it wasn't from near here. Walking to the end of the second building, I see a valet and ask him where I should go. He suggest a nearby building's entrance in an accent that also sounds like it's not from nearby. I'd also noticed a fairly wide range of employee races (you can tell the employees by their badges). Nobody can accuse Google of not being diverse enough: they seem to grab people from all around the world.
Going through the door the valet suggested, I find myself in a lobby where the first thing I notice is one of Google's slides spiraling down from the second level. The next thing I noticed was everybody waiting in the lobby was dressed very professionally. It's then I think, "Slides are a unique idea, but I wonder how many of these people actually use them? I don't see people in suits being very interested in slides."
Walking to the front desk, a friendly woman ask,
"Hi, what can I help you with?"
"Yes, I've been traveling around and just wanted to visit Google, so I was wondering what sort of things would be available for me to see?"
"Well, unfortunately, all of Google's lobby's are closed off to the public."
All of them? Does that include the one I'm standing in right now? If so, you may wanna beef up security.
"Are there any sort of tours available?"
"No, I'm sorry."
"Can I take pictures of the outside things, like the soccer field (even though I already had)?"
"You can try, but if security sees you, they may escort you from the property."
I think what she thought I was saying is I wanted to go onto the field, but I get the point: Google doesn't want me to see anything. You would think the most visited website on the planet, who's headquarters is the size of a college campus, might think to add a little something in the corner for visitors. Maybe a place to say, "We appreciate you use our search engine and are interested in our company." It's their right not to but it doesn't give a good vibe.
Feeling unwelcome, I drive away, but not before taking this picture:
HA! I got a picture of your employees exercising, how ya like that Google? Of course, Google owns Blogger, so I'll know how they like it if my blog gets taken down.
Next, I head for Pinnacles National Park. I don't know what's at Pinnacles, and getting there, it's not hugely interesting to me. It's also way hot, so I walk to a single trail view point and back before leaving. The only interesting thing I experienced is, while hiking, I kept passing the scent of hot cider. I figured it must be a nearby plant, and being me, decided to sniff nearby flora every time I smelled it. I never found out what it was though.
After Pinnacles, I backtrack to my next destination: I plan to drive California's Highway 1 from Monterrey to Los Angeles. California 1 is, I'm told by several people, one of the most beautiful drives in the country. Unfortunately, the portion I'm driving is 6 and a half hours long. Exhausted already, I take a break at McDonald's. While waiting, I watch and listen to what appears to be a transient talking to somebody that's not there. I thought he had a bluetooth at first, but he keeps looking over at the empty seat next to him and talking specifically at that area. I can't make out a lot of what he says, but at one point I hear, "That's the problem. On the east coast, they've got 1 cop for every 10 people. On the west coast they've got 1 cop for every 100 people." It's actually a very astute point. I hadn't noticed a lot of police in California, even though they warn about radar everywhere, and I'd been wondering why. This crazy person is saying some pretty sensible things. Then, I think about something Joey said to me in the bar last night:
"So you started talking to yourself yet?"
"Yeah."
"I could tell."
"Really? How?"
"I was reading your blog and it just got to a certain point that I knew. I did it, too."
Is this crazy old man what I'd be like if I never stop traveling? It's a bizarre thought, but something worth asking myself. At this point, I'm feeling energized, so I get in the car and head for Los Angeles.
The view on Highway 1 was nice.
The areas with no trespassing signs and barbed wire not as much, but I like to think it's a fun representation of California's stricter laws.
Unfortunately, my body tires with several hours to go. Highway 1 doesn't have Rest Areas, and it's one of those "you won't see civilization for hours" roads, so no 24 hour stores either. I'm lucky enough to find a motel in the middle of the mountains and stay there for the night.
Man in the Speedo was probably waving his towel out, not a flag silly
ReplyDelete