Lazy Hazy Days

My mind, it is mush. I've spent the last few evenings at home on the sofa with Michael, watching DVDs. In the morning, I feel listless, unable to keep sleeping, yet not eager to rise. What causes such lethargy? Clouds may still hang overhead, but the sun does occasionally push through, and when I head home from work at five, the heavens are not yet cobalt in hue, much less black.

Still, it must be the winter blues, at least in part. Fortunately, Saturday was a nice reprieve, and I made the most of it by working in the front yard and taking Lucy on a long walk along the Burke. Sunday was "date night"; Michael and I followed an early dinner at the Tin Table with the live production of Xanadu at the Paramount (it's our favorite campy 1980 cheese fest). We finished with dessert at Dilettante. If a big bowl of salted caramel ice cream topped with molten truffle sauce and studded with shards of dark chocolate praline doesn't chase away the doldrums, what will?

Or perhaps it's the letdown after the guide summit. Ever busy at work, it's still not the same without people speaking in foreign accents around every corner, and your employer's blessing to live it up each night in the name of getting to know one another. The fact is, I'm getting a little home-sick again. Yes, that's sick of home, not sick for home. The combination of winter weather with no travel plans clearly visible on the horizon is a bit difficult for me.

But I shall persevere! Spring is around the corner, and I just need to find some projects to keep me well occupied in the meantime. Perhaps some more volunteer work? I've sadly gotten out of the habit of that lately. New adventures are ahead, and I'll be back, hopefully with a new story to tell.

Washington Whirlwind

A month or so ago, I got the inspired idea that we should visit Washington State's two most famous national parks - that would be Mount Rainier and Olympic - while Leonie, our German "exchange student" (actually a seventeen-year-old friend of a friend from Wiesbaden who stayed with us for ten days during her summer vacation) was visiting. After all, no visit to Washington would be complete without taking in some of the natural beauty and grandeur of our mountains, forests, beaches, and lakes. The catch was that we really only had two days in which to do this.

Now, I am here today to tell you that this can be done. With better planning, in fact, it could be done much more efficiently than our two day road trip bonanza turned out. This is not to say that we didn't enjoy ourselves, but after getting a late start and not leaving the house until 11am on Saturday morning, due partly to the fact that our entire household stayed up until 12:30 the night before locked into a game of Settlers that Michael had gleefully instigated, we were pretty much two hours behind schedule for the next two days.

First up: Mount Rainier. What better time than August, right? The wildflowers are in bloom, and the meadows at Paradise live up to their name. But as we left Seattle the blue sky turned to mostly cloudy, and the fog started in earnest right around the elevation of Paradise. After a four mile round trip hike to view Comet Falls looking mysteriously disembodied in the mist, we made our way up the road, where Leonie commented that it was hard to see even the trees ahead of us, let alone the giant mountain that was supposedly just beyond.

A late trip to Rainier led to a late arrival in Shelton, where I whipped up dinner for six at my friend Rebecca and her husband Chris's place in town rather than meet up with everyone at the Hartstine Island cabin as was the original plan. Heading out late once again, Michael, Leonie, and I made it to the cabin in time for a slightly earlier bedtime than the previous night, but not by much. At 10am the next morning, with just enough time for Leonie to observe the emaciated starfish that crowd the waterline at low tide, we were back on the road.

Just before two, we made it to our first official destination, Ruby Beach. Incredibly, the weather at Ruby made up for the disappointment at Rainier, with warm sun shining down above the trees that clung for dear life on the cliffs edging the shore, and piles of driftwood creating the perfect picnic spot from which to sit and watch the waves. We could have spent all afternoon exploring the nooks and crannies of the windswept rock formations, but after an hour we were on our way again, with so much more to see ahead.

Or so we thought. After making a decision to bypass the rain forest due to time constraints ("On a day like this, we can't miss Hurricane Ridge," I asserted. "It'll be more than worth it."), we drove on to Lake Crescent, stopping to marvel at the clear blue water and forested hills that plunged straight to the shore. It was also at Lake Crescent that we learned the fateful news: the road to Hurricane Ridge was closed, owing to an unforeseen landslide. Oh. Well, there's the rub. I guess we could have stopped by the rain forest after all.

But all was not lost. We decided to do a quick stop in Port Angeles, which gave Michael enough time to sneak away and buy a Butterfinger blizzard ("We don't have Dairy Queen in Seattle!" was his not unreasonable excuse). Driving into Kingston at about 7:15, we were making pretty good time, when I saw the sign; there was a two hour wait for the ferry to Edmonds, and we were stuck in line on the highway. Perfect.

But, as it turns out, it was perfect. After about fifteen minutes, the line moved and we were able to park the car in the ferry lanes at the port, get out, and treat ourselves to ice cream cones. Not only that, but we even made it on the ferry in only an hour, not the dreaded two hours as had been warned, and for the first time in her ten day visit Leonie was able to see not only the elusive Mount Rainier, but the stunning silhouette of the Olympic Range, back lit by a sunset that filled the sky with bands of pink that deepened and grew as the ferry sped across the Puget Sound. No trip across the water could have hoped for a more amazing display.

Not much later we were sitting, exhausted, back in Lake City, poring over the menu at Thai One On. A little Thai food hit the spot before going home to unpack and say our goodbyes to Leonie, who took the Greyhound back to Vancouver today before her flight back to Germany tomorrow. We hope she enjoyed her time in Seattle, and maybe even the whirlwind Washington tour despite the lengthy time in the car. And hey, now she can tell her friends, who've all seen Twilight, that she's seen Forks and it really is as boring as anything. But hopefully Seattle was a little more fun, and the bright spots in our weekend getaway made all the driving worth it.

It's A Beatiful Day

I admit that I came up for the title of this post before the rains hit this afternoon. But for the past couple of days, Berlin has been a summer wonderland. On Sunday, the Tiergarten, Berlin's vast, wooded central park, was filled with people enjoying the warm weekend, and the "Grill Gebiet (grilling areas)" were filled with families warming up the coals on their three-legged portables grills. The smell of kebabs was just starting the fill the air as I passed through. There is a huge Turkish population in this city, and they appeared to be the most enthusiastic picnickers, as many generations came together around the grill, with grandmothers in colorful headscarves sharing the table with grandchildren dressed in the colorful H&M style of all European teens.

The neighborhood where we are staying, Prenzlauer Berg, was also a happening place to be. Lines formed out of the local waffle and ice cream shop, Kauf Dich Glücklich, and the candy colored chairs on the patio were filled with people enjoying a sort of hip German Sunday brunch. Prenz'l Berg is nothing if not hip, and where better to walk along leafy streets and survey the street cafe scene spilling onto the sidewalk to make the most of a lovely day? An evening spent in the local Biergarten, Prater, with my guide, Katka (we were working, of course) felt like the only way to end such a day.

Of course, such times don't last forever; the grey skies have returned. But I'm from Seattle, and a couple good days are all I need and I'm set for the week. Berlin, I couldn't have asked for more.

Road Trip Day 4, Oct : Mission: The Mission

After spending the night with Michael's godparents in Redwood City (about miles south of San Francisco) and attending church with them in the morning, we heading to San Francisco for our first real taste of the town. To me, that didn't mean Fiherman's Wharf or Ghiradelli Square - it meant the Mission District, home to an ethnically and economically diverse population, and also home of the Mission burrito.

The Mission burrito, like the neighborhood from which it comes, is down to earth and bursting with flavor. We parked across the street from Taqueria Cancucn (burritos in the Mission are sold from taquerias, just to confuse those not in the know), a garishly painted place sandwiuched between thrift shops and corner produce stands. Customers waited in the narrow corridor at the back of the taqueria to place their order, then wedged themselves onto a bench at one of the long pine tables after picking up a plastic basket containing foil wrapped goodness.

Supposedly these are the places that inspired chains like Taco del Mar. But I can tell you first hand, Taco del Mar has nothing on these burritos. Michael took one bite and let out a groan of happiness. "This is the best burrito I have ever had," he simply said, and I couldn't put it any better.

But what made these burritos so good? Michael's was brimming with carne asada, while I chose pollo asado, which is, to many burrito and taco aficionados, the most boring option. But the chicken in my burrito was, well, succulent is the best word I can think of. It was juicy and slightly spicy, studded with hearty chunks of avocado (which I love, love, love), not too much rice, and wrapped in a flaky tortilla.

Now, I have read reviews of various Mission taquerias online, and seems there is much contention as to which taquerias are really authentic and truly tasy. Some rave about Cancun while others respond with a resounding, "meh." I guess that maybe the people who live there are just spoiled for choice and have to find something to argue about. All I can say is that Michael and I, as Seattleites, just devoured our burritos and couldn't have been happier. And at around $5 apiece with chips and house made salsas included, these burritos are also a great deal.

There is more to the Mission than burritos, however. We stopped for a look at the beautiful Mission Dolores. Tours to see the interior of the mission are offered, but we declined in favor of seeing more of the neighborhood on foot. We passed through a diverse mix of historic San Francisco Victorian row houses, some freshly painted and well tended, others crumbling under peeling paint. Small shops and restaurants lined the ground floors of many of the buildings, randing from pawn shops to trendy tapas bars.

Tempted by the sight of a line snaking out the door of a shop advertising fresh made organic ice cream, we got dessert at the Bi Rite Cremaery. Back on the street we enjoyed toasted cocnut and malted vanilla with peanut brittle and milk chocolate ice cream. Thick and creamy, the ice cream was a real treat (although we both agreed that we favor our own local organic ice creamery, Seattle's Molly Moon's).

For science fiction and fantasy lovers, Borderlands Books is a must. This little shop is crammed with new and used books spanning the full breadth of these genres. While we didn't buy anything, I was tempted by a lovely illustrated edition of the complete tales of Hans Christian Andersen.

We also managed to spot a few of the murals for which this area is famous, including the exceptionally colorful paintings that line the San Francisco Women's building. There are many more we unfortunately did not have the chance to see.

If You Go:
Taqueria Cancun
1003 Market Street, San Francisco
415-864-6773

Mission Dolores
www.missiondolores.org
3321 16th Street, San Francisco

Bi-Rite Creamery
www.biritecreamery.com
3692 18th Street, Sand Francisco

Borderlands Books
www.borderlands-books.com
866 Valencia Street, San Francisco