Socal Mom by Donna Schwartz Mills

Notes From the Road

We didn't get as early a start as I'd hoped, but still made it back to Los Angeles before the Grapevine became clogged with bumper-to-bumper traffic.

This particular road trip was the first time we traveled with both our college age niece and nephew in the back seat, which made it a little bit cramped for Megan, who got stuck in the middle. It did give her a little taste of what it would be like if she wasn't an only child. I think she's learning that maybe she isn't missing anything by not having an older brother and sister.

The halfway point is Harris Ranch, in Coalinga, famous for their beef. The stench from the cattle can be detected a good couple of miles before you get to the exit, even on a cold November day like this one. At around this time, my nephew stirred from his nap.

"Mommy! Alex just lifted his butt and farted at me! It smells worse in here than the cows!"

To prove her point, she rolled down the window to let in the fresh - if stinky - air. And she was right.

Going SLO

For the first time in years, everyone I know is traveling to cool and exotic places - except me.

My niece is finishing up her study trip in Rome and will spend another three weeks touring through Europe (her luggage did finally show up and her traveling partner has stopped talking about cutting her trip short, so I expect they will both have a wonderful time).

My friends Debbie and Tim left on Sunday for Tokyo, and my friend Faith is currently in Thailand.

And the Mills family is staying right here in California for the summer. I'm not even going to make the trip to Chicago this week for BlogHer :sigh:

We did manage an overnight stay in Santa Paula last month. And another one, last weekend, in the beautiful Central Coast town of San Luis Obispo.

The occasion was our daughter's return to us after spending a week and a half with my parents in Sacramento. After making the trip up there three times in the last six weeks, I jumped at my folks' offer to meet us halfway that Sunday, at Harris Ranch.

But even the prospect of just half a trip up Interstate 5 (the most boring highway in all of California) was not a pleasant one. So we decided to break it up a little, by heading north on Saturday via coastal 101 and spending the night somewhere up there. We'd head east to Harris Ranch the next day and really only have to deal with the 5 for the trip back to L.A. (with our daughter in tow).

The best part of this plan was that, as much of the rolling hills of the Central Coast are covered with vineyards (making them even more picturesque), we could spend a couple of hours Saturday afternoon indulging in one of our favorite hobbies: wine tasting.

"You know what?" my husband said as we descended into the Edna Valley...

"This is God's country?" I asked -- because that's what he says EVERY time we drive through this part of the state.

"And those mountain peaks are called 'The Seven Sisters"? And they are actually ancient volcanoes?" I added.

He growled. After 18 years together, we know each other too well. And I know that my geologist husband cannot resist giving out little lessons when we pass through interesting territory.

We stopped off at Edna Valley Vineyard, one of several wineries with lush landscaping and a large tasting room. It was a busy day all over the Valley -- between the wine tour buses and the special catered event being held on their grounds, it was hard to belly up to the wine bar, which had a specatacular view of the vineyard and the valley beyond. 

I watched a group relaxing on the patio chairs next to the lushly landscaped lawn, enjoying that view while sipping from a bottle they'd purchased inside, and it was tempting -- but Gareth and I weren't that impressed with the vintages we tasted there, and decided to squeeze in another winery. We continued driving along Biddle Ranch Road and came upon the tasting room shared by two small family operations: Saucelito Canyon and Ortman Family Vineyards. Their room was no less busy -- but it was smaller, less corporate-feeling... and we liked the wines enough to buy half a case.

The tasting rooms close between 4 and 5, so it was time to head to downtown San Luis Obispo, where I'd booked our hotel. As this overnight was decided at the last minute, I'd not had a lot of choices -- and was shocked to discover how much hotels were going for this summer. Our favorite hotel up here, Sycamore Springs, was completely booked, as was the Holiday Inn Express -- and both had about doubled in price since our last visit (when Megan was a preschooler). It makes sense: San Luis Obispo is situated halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco, so it's a popular place to stop - especially this time of year.

So I resigned myself to the fact that we would have to pay something in the $200 range and headed for TripAdvisor.com, to see what was available. The San Luis Creek Lodge had availability, so I booked it and prayed that it would be nicer than the place we'd stayed a few weeks ago in Santa Paula.

The mock Tudor building that faced the street looked somewhat promising. The red phone box outside the office entrance was a nice touch. So far, so good.

The desk clerk (or was she the hotel manager?) welcomed us and informed us that we would be in the Craftsman building. This is when we discovered that this unique little bed and breakfast type hybrid consisted of three buildings designed in three very distinct styles, with interior furnishings to match. In addition to the Londonderry (another mock Tudor) and Craftsman buildings, there was one called the Plantation, which resembles a manse from the old South, and offers views of the creek from which the hotel takes its name.

Our room was another pleasant surprise: large, airy and full of whimsical touches, all in the Craftsman theme. The king sized bed was truly a king, the linens were luxurious, the fixtures in the tiled bathroom were fine quality, the amenities were branded by Aveda, there was a small refrigrator, microwave and best of all: free wi-fi. Our room even included a fireplace (too warm a day to use it, but nice to know for future reference). Yes, this was going to do just fine.

It wasn't yet dark, so we decided to head into the little downtown and do some exploring. The city operates a little trolley service between the hotels and motels on Monterey Street and the Mission downtown, so we hopped on board. (Trolleys run until 9:00 p.m. and the fare is just 25 cents). We spent the next couple of hours window shopping and taking pictures of the sights (on my Flickr stream).

We toyed with the idea of doing some more wine tasting; earlier in the day, I'd picked up a brochure for Taste, a high-tech tasting room in downtown SLO, boasting a choice of something like 70 different varieties. It was highly automated; the bottles are inverted and poured from individual kiosks. You purchase your tasting credits at the desk and then insert your card in the slot for the wine(s) you wish to try. This was all a little bit too impersonal for our taste (part of the fun of tasting at the wineries is chatting with the folks who work there -- most of our meager knowledge of wine and the winemaking process came this way). We decided to give Taste a try on our next SLO visit.

Instead, we decided to enjoy a proper Italian dinner at Palazzo Giuseppe, which looked good from the outside... and did not disappoint us when we were finally seated. From cocktails at the bar (where I enjoyed an orange blossom martini) through our appetizer of stuffed zucchini blossoms and entrees... the food was excellent. I was grateful for those final tastes, as I was beginning a new diet the following morning and kept referring to that meal as my last supper.

We slept soundly and comfortably in our room back at the hotel. The San Luis Creek Lodge serves its guests a light breakfast each morning (included in the cost of the room), but my husband was craving something more substantial, so we went hunting for a good breakfast joint. We stopped at Louisa's Place merely because it was there -- we had not known that it is an SLO institution, appearing often on residents' Best Breakfast lists. After dining there, they can have our vote, too.

We left the town feeling rested, full -- and sorry to be heading east into the dusty San Joaquin Valley. I hope we get to return soon.

A Night in Santa Paula

This story begins nearly 20 years ago. Jim (my then-writing partner) and I, flush with the sale of our first script, had acquired an agent. Two agents, actually -- partners named Mitch and Elliott, who specialized in representing sitcom writers from their offices in a high-rise in Beverly Hills.

I used to joke that all agents in Hollywood were named either Elliott or Mitch -- and I'd thought I'd hit the jackpot when we got both. I was especially excited about the long list of successful clients already on their agency's roster... including a writer who'd just departed "Cheers" to work on a new show that was yet to air. Mitch and Elliott suggested we come up with a spec for the new show, and they handed us the script for the pilot, which took place in a tiny airport in Nantucket. (Yes, that show was "Wings," and this gives you an idea of how really long ago this was).

As we started throwing out story ideas, Jim suggested we do some first-hand research by visiting an actual tiny airport -- and the nearest one with the small town flavor we needed was in the sleepy burg of Santa Paula, located off route 126, midway between the bustle of Santa Clarita and the beach communities in Ventura... only about an hour's drive from my apartment in Studio City.

We didn't get much inspiration from the airport, and the script we ended up writing never got to the producers of "Wings." In fact, Mitch and Elliott didn't do anything for us, other than take the 10% commission for the script we'd sold by ourselves. (That's not entirely true -- they offered us lots of really good advice on making our material more saleable; advice I'm afraid we were too stupid to take to heart. We ended up parting ways -- both with our agents and with each other as writing partners, and neither of us sold another script again. But that's not what this post is about.)

The airport may not have made a lasting impression on me, but the charming little Main Street did. One interesting find was the California Oil Museum, located in the original offices of the Union Oil Company, and featuring all kinds of artifacts -- from old gas pumps to 50's-style TV commercials. There were a lot of exhibits illustrating how petroleum came to be and how it was discovered and produced. Gareth and I had only been dating for a few months at this time, but I already knew that this place would be dear to his little geologist's heart.

Fast forward five years: Gareth and I were now married, and we found ourselves in the mood for a road trip on a hot July Sunday. Remembering the Oil Museum, I suggested we head out to Santa Paula. We decided to explore a backroads route in the baby-SUV he drove at the time. It didn't have air conditioning, but it did have a removable top, and so we wended our way through the winding roads in the open air, and I will always remember the moment we hit the Santa Clara Valley, because the fragrance of the fruit ripening in the orange and lemon groves was so enchanting. It was one of many times when we set out on a drive without a plan and everything fell into place. After enjoying the Oil Museum, we saw from the headline on the local paper that the Ventura County Fair had just opened, so we got onto the 126 and finished the day at the fair.

Gareth and I recalled that perfect day as we drove to Santa Paula once again last evening. We've passed through the town several times over the years (the 126 is a favorite route to Ventura Beach, allowing us to bypass all the traffic on the 101). We have even stopped a few times, especially when Megan was little (there is a historic locomotive that travels between Santa Paula and nearby Fillmore, and it offers kid-friendly pumpkin patch and Christmas tree excursions in October and December).

But we have never had an occasion to spend the night... after all, it's only about a 45 minute drive from our home. The opportunity came up when we decided to send Megan to a sleepaway camp in Santa Barbara. Dropoff yesterday was between 3:30 and 4:30 p.m., which meant that we would have to drive back in some nasty traffic.  I suggested we use the camp as an excuse to spend the night in SB.

What I had in mind was the Four Seasons...

...but Gareth has been doing business recently in Santa Paula, and had to be there at 7:00 a.m. this morning for a meeting. With Megan at camp, my schedule is now totally flexible -- so that's where we decided to go.m Gareth reserved us a Jacuzzi room at the Glen Tavern Inn, which he had seen on one of his visits there. He couldnt believe that the rate was just $79. On Sunday morning, they emailed us to confirm that the King bed we'd requested would be available.

Sunday afternoons are brutal on the stretch between Santa Barbara and Ventura, when PCH narrows to just two lanes each way, and unfortunately, we were unable to avoid it. At least, the scenery is beautiful -- but the 50 mile drive took us close to two hours. Gareth was getting frustrated.

The drive reminded him of our last trip to Britain, when a jack knifed lorry on the M4 (where exits are few and far between) backed up traffic so badly that it took us four hours to travel a similar distance to a little village called Speen. Obviously, that trip was a lot worse -- especially as my husband had just gotten off a long transatlantic flight and had been awake for something like 36 hours. When we were finally able to get off the road and immediately discovered a bed and breakfast in a 17th-century coach house, it felt like a miracle.

"Maybe the Glen Tavern Inn will be our Speen," he said. "I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep."

"You were jet lagged and exhausted in Speen," I reminded him. "And hotels in old buildings tend to have really thin walls." I thought I should mention this to him, as he's a really light sleeper, but he didn't pay attention. My husband will always remember Speen as an old-fashioned paradise, one he would love to recreate here.

And at first glance, the Glen Tavern Inn filled the bill. The antique-filled lobby of the 1911 building is a bit of Craftsman perfection, and the woman behind the desk gave us a friendly welcome. "You're in the Honeymoon suite," she told us as she handed us the old-fashioned key (no plastic cardkeys here).

And the bedroom was indeed charming -- although the four-poster bed seemed a lot smaller than the King we'd requested. (I think it was merely a double). The bathroom, however, was decidedly spartan, with a tiny basin, no counterspace and a standard tub.

The Jacuzzi tub was located on the opposite end of the bedroom -- and when I saw it, I burst out laughing. It was one of those heart-shaped tubs you see in tacky ads for honeymoon trips to the Poconos... and it was bright red, to boot. On top of that, the Glen Tavern owners appear to have taken the Inn's history as a former bordello to heart, because the lamp fixture in that room was lit by a red bulb.

Definitely NOT the Four Seasons.

After a nice dinner at the hotel's Grove restaurant, we returned to our room with the intention of trying out the tub -- only to discover that it had no stopper. So we decided to call the front desk. The only problem with that was that the room had no telephone! ("How can they have free wi-fi here and no telephone?" my husband mused.)

I was glad I hadn't yet undressed, because I needed to march back out to the lobby to ask for a bathtub stopper. It took the hotel staff some time to find one... and it only worked passably well, meaning we had to keep refilling the tub once we'd turned the jets on. (The control for the jets was inconveniently located just outside the room.)

The place was beginning to feel like Fawlty Towers.

The bedroom was really stuffy, and another truism about old hotels is that they tend not to have central air conditioning. We turned on the window unit, which not only didn't work well but was really noisy. So we opened the windows, accomplishing our goal of cooling off the room. But it also let in the noise of the street and the neighbors' loud TV... and the hotel rooms were indeed thin, which meant we heard the conversations of everyone who passed by our room in the hallway.

I couldn't sleep. I dragged my iPod into the bathroom (the one without the heart-shaped Jacuzzi) and watched an old episode of Grey's Anatomy, before returning to the bed. The noise from our neighbors eventually stopped... but it wasn't long before we got an earful of a crowing rooster.

Bet you don't hear THAT at the Four Seasons.

But you don't get a $79 rate, either. The bottom line is that you get what you pay for, and the Glen Tavern Inn is a perfectly nice place for an overnight to a charming part of SoCal. And if you visit in the winter, you might even get to keep your windows closed.

I have nothing but good things to say about the Santa Paula Coffee Company, where I've spent the last three hours surfing the web while I've written this report. Good atmostphere, great coffee, friendly proprietors and free wi-fi. Free refills, too. You can't get any better than that.

On the Road Again

There are several different north-south conduits in California: (1) the dreaded Highway 5 and slightly easier 99, which take you quickly through the Central Valley, (2) scenic Highway 1, which hugs the coast, and (3) historic Highway 101 (El Camino Real), which roughly follows the trails of the Spanish Missions.

When I decided I would drive to BlogHer, I was determined to take one of the coastal routes back home. We don't do this often, as both routes definitely add several hours to the trip. This is one of the reasons why I decided we would include an overnight stop in Monterey.

The other reason? Monterey happens to be my favorite town in all of California. It's charming, it's small enough that you can park your car downtown and walk to just about all the places on your sightseeing list, it boasts some great restaurants and luxury hotels... and there's plenty to keep the kids interested.

"Are we going to go to the Aquarium?" my daughter asked hopefully. It's been four years since our last visit and I was happy that she had such good memories of the place. I added another night to our hotel reservation so we could visit and not feel rushed.

Monterey is a fairly easy drive from both San Francisco (about two hours) and San Jose (roughly an hour and a half). As our starting point was the latter, and I still wanted to see some redwoods, we took Highway 17 up through the hills to Santa Cruz, before heading back south through the artichoke fields in Castroville, the picturesque dunes of Sand City and on to our destination.

(You may also fly in to Monterey Airport, which is how I used to get there on business oh, so many years ago. It's possible that it's expanded since 1998 -- but back then, all direct flights from LAX were on small commuter prop-planes. My first visit was memorable for the beauty of the approach - we came in low over the bay and I could see the foam on the white-capped waves. It was smooth and pleasant. My second visit -- in the winter -- was memorable for the wind, rain, turbulence and my fear that the flight would be my last ever. From that point on, I booked flights that stopped in San Francisco first - for some reason, those were nice, big 737's.)

By the time we located and checked into our hotel, it was 4:00 p.m. With the summer sun setting around 8:00, there was still plenty of time to explore. We headed to the bay and parked near Monterey State Historic Park, which sits on a wide plaza adjacent to the downtown business district. The city was California's capital under the flags of three different countries (Spain, Mexico and the United States) and here you can view 10 historic buildings that have survived earthquakes and economics to give us a window of what California life was like.

You can walk from the plaza all the way down to Cannery Row, the same area made famous in the comic novel by John Steinbeck. (In fact, the creators of the world famous Aquarium were greatly influenced by the work of real-life marine biologist Edward Ricketts, a friend of Steinbeck and said to be the basis for the character of "Doc." Ricketts' lab was located right next door to the defunct Hovden cannery that the Aquarium replaced.) There are also wide bicycle paths and plenty of bikes to rent for people like me who never think to bring one.

Instead, we decided to visit Old Fisherman's Wharf, once the headquarters for Chinese traders and Italian fishermen -- now, a fun magnet for tourists with its kitschy souvenir shops, purveyors of fresh salt-water taffy, and pretty good restaurants (featuring all kinds of seafood). The Wharf is also home to several fishing and whale watching tours. We were too late to take one of these (they typically go on for three hours) -- but we did purchase tickets for a 20-minute bay cruise in a glass-bottomed boat. This is actually a better bet for families with young children - the ride is mild (less chance of sea sickness) and ideal for little people with short attention spans. Cost: $10 for adults, $8 for children

While we didn't see too much under the ship (some kelp beds, an occasional sea star), getting out into the bay gives you a great view of sea lions, sea birds, and my favorite: the cute, furry sea otters, who wrap themselves in sea weed and float on their backs. We got to see a couple of these in the distance and it's always a thrill.

Tomorrow: Our visit to the Aquarium.

William Shatner was Right

I made my BlogHer reservations back in January, before I had a clue what my actual plans would be -- so I put myself down for a long stay at the Hyatt: from Wednesday through Monday, knowing that when it got closer to the event, I would be able to fine tune the reservation without penalty.

So a couple of weeks ago, that's exactly what I did. At the time, there were no plans for a pre-conference meeting (besides, if that occurred, it would be on Thursday afternoon, so why pay for an extra night?). I also started focusing this blog on travel -- so why not come in a day later so I could make a pit stop in San Francisco?

I love San Francisco. The hills, the buildings, the food, the shopping -- what's there not to like? It is one of the most beautiful cities I've ever seen, and it kills me to come up to Northern California and not pay it a visit.

The problem is, I'm not alone. EVERYBODY loves San Francisco, including the folks who book meetings and conferences for corporate America. It is one of the most popular convention destinations in the country. Hotel room prices are set by supply and demand, and when the economy is good, business travel keeps demand (and costs) high. So, as I went snooping around for a hotel room, I discovered that it could cost me $250 t0 $350 a night to stay in my favorite places.

So I decided to do something I've always wondered about but never had the guts to try: Priceline.com, the site that promises you can set your own price for all kinds of travel. It sounds simple enough: hotels have rooms they can't sell and rather than let the inventory sit there and go to waste, you can bid on those rooms, and if they accept your offer, you pay -- in full, sight unseen. That's the part that has always scared me -- how do I know I'm going to get a hotel I'd WANT to stay in? One that's clean, safe, and preferably, is a touch luxurious?

When I logged into Priceline, I discovered that you do get to specify approximate areas in the city you're staying in, as well as its star rating. So I put in a really low-ball offer of $75 for a four-star hotel room in  the Union Square area of San Francisco. Priceline came up with bupkis. This was good, as you're not on the line to pay for something that doesn't exist.

So I widened my search to include Fisherman's Wharf and the Embarcadero. Nada. I lowered my expectations to three-stars. Priceline still came up with nothing. OK, $75 is kind of ridiculous. I raised my bid to $100 -- I definitely didn't want to pay more than $100. But Priceline still couldn't come up with a room that low.

Finally, I widened my search again to include the area around San Francisco airport, which is a good 30 minute drive out of the downtown area. NOW, Priceline came up with something -- the Sheraton. I knew the Sheraton chain would ensure a modicum of standards, so I was semi-happy with this choice. I decided I could always go to the city, park the car somewhere and then settle into the hotel. Or I could explore the Peninsula, the area south of the city that includes tony little towns like San Mateo, and Palo Alto.

I also wouldn't have to pay to park my car overnight in the city: $50 when we stayed last year.

I decided I was happy with my choice.

I was even happier when I checked in this afternoon and discovered that (a) the hotel was fully booked and (b) the going rate for a room was $210. So I definitely saved money.

The one problem is, Priceline doesn't guarantee you the TYPE of room you will be getting, and all the hotel had left for their customers was smoking rooms (and I don't smoke). The front desk clerk gave me a non-smoking room anyway.

If you are using Priceline, you will also discover that hotel stays you book through them will not give you points in your frequent traveler programs, so the $100 I paid at the Sheraton will not show up on my Starwood Preferred Guest account. However, any incidentals I purchase at the hotel will -- so if you book a hotel at one of your favorite chains through Priceline, DO give them your account number at checkin.