Monterey!

After Santa Cruz it was an hour's drive to Monterey. First there was fog, and great mounds of sand that obscured the view of the ocean. It looked familiar on account of my nine year old self's addiction to California Speed Racer, the arcade game.

Then we turned off the freeway and headed uphill into more fog, and forests overlooking the ocean. My pulse quickened. This too looked familiar, even more so than the sand dunes, on account of my adult self's addiction to fantasizing about my perfect home.

I've always known it would be in Northern California, and part of my eagerness to go on the trip had been to scout locations. Now we were driving through the exact physical manifestation of my most pleasant dreams.

"This is it!" I clapped my hands. "This is where Mike and I are going to live once we settle down!"

Mike is, of course, my future husband. We've been together for about five years. His occupation changes between architect, geologist, and archaeologist, and his name doesn't necessarily have to be Mike; the important thing is that he has dark wavy hair and a fiery personality and plays the drums and owns a sailboat and maybe a golden retriever-ish dog who was the love of his life until he met me. Mike's sole negative quality is his failure, thus far, to exist.

Courtney was less than enthusiastic.

"That's great for you and Mike, Liz," she said, "How about you find me where to make a right turn?"

And so that was that and we stayed at another cozy, lovely hostel in the center of Monterey (I fully recommend Hostelling International) and went to eat at a place called Tillie Gorts, and the next morning went running along the craggy winding foggy coast and I fantasized about Mike the entire time and decided he would definitely be a geologist, that way he could teach me about all the rocks.