This is, I imagine, what people expect from a vacation. Maybe. Not you people, but others. You know. And a travelogue. Went to Carmel, had champs for breakfast, wine for lunch, ripe figs, local blue cheese (bleu), sourdough baguette, plump olives. Birthday dinner at an old Italian restaurant for the country club crowd, two deserts. Old Ili and I limped along the northern Cali coast seeing the cliffs and flowers and spooky trees and tide pools and seals. All the things. All hypnotic and lovely. We slept and lounged and couldn't leave. The hotel was old and outrageously beautiful, the staff trained in 19th century manners, the kind that has them back against the wall as you pass through the hallways, always "mam" or "sir" until you feel you will be called out on social media just for being there. Could we get a room for another night? Sure. We will give you a complimentary upgrade. And again. Another. Ocean view. Why leave? Luxury and decadence.
There is no making pictures other than vacation shots. You could, maybe. You might, but it wouldn't be the same thing. Elude the edge. Stay relaxed. Listen to the ocean, the birds, the mammals. Zen.
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