All the Nuts Fell in California

“When God shook the tree of life, all the nuts fell in California.” That’s what my high school Civics teacher said, and it stuck with me for years. And I thought – I want to be in California so bad.

I never really fit in growing up. I don’t think I made very much sense to the other kids where I grew up (the rural Northeast Georgia mountains). It’s funny because I always did feel like a stranger in a foreign land. My accent was never as thick as those around me, my worldview felt a bit extreme compared to everyone else, and believe it or not, I thought there was so much life out there beyond Blairsville, Georgia.

I was 28 the first time I made it to California. I waited my whole life to see what this weird place was on the other side of the country. I visited friends in the Bay Area, then I traveled to LA, and admittedly, I hated it at the time. Since then, I’ve fallen in love with Southern California.

After visiting California many times (and almost moving there at least three times), I drove down the entire California coast, and it was a dream come true. My partner and I stayed with friends in San Francisco before we hopped in the car, crossed the small spine of mountains on the San Francisco peninsula, and started south on California Route 1, headed to Santa Cruz and Monterey.

The unfortunate thing was that it was raining, a lot. This rain was far less California rain, and more like an awful East Coast rainstorm. We could barely see the coast, and as we drove south of Pacifica, I realized, much to my surprise, that this part of the California coast was actually quite desolate.

We needed gas, so we turned left off of CA 1, toward the village of Pescadero. If anyone has ever seen Halloween 3: Season of the Witch – it looked so much like this area. When I was a kid, I’d watch that movie, and I didn’t really care that it was scary; rather, I wanted to be where it was set, obviously California. I love those places that remind me of creepy towns in horror movies for some weird reason.

Anyway, this town was nothing like a horror movie; it was charming and super small. After getting gas, we got sandwiches at the deli counter in Arcangeli Grocery Norm’s Market, a little market on the tiny main street.

As the misty rain continued to fall, we took our delicious sandwiches out to the back in a small green area with a few picnic tables, and a small brook behind a fence. The sandwiches on the homemade bread was absolutely delicious.

We then continued along the highway headed to Santa Cruz. I’ve always wanted to spend time in Santa Cruz, but because the rain was really coming down, we only drove through. As I typically do, we diverted onto UC Santa Cruz (home of the Banana Slugs) so I could see the campus. Years before, I had been invited to an on-campus interview in Residence Life, but I declined. I wanted to see what I missed by not moving to Santa Cruz. I think I missed out…but life is always about choices, and even though I didn’t end up in Santa Cruz, I’m happy with where life has taken me.

After Santa Cruz, we continued south along Monterey Bay, stopping for the night at a Best Western in the small town of Marina. The rain continued, but there was a really nice hot tub outside, and the feel of the slightly cool rain on our skin, juxtaposed with the hot water was divine. That evening, we had a romantic dinner at Subway, and when asked where we were from (my partner’s Australian accent piqued their interest), we told them that we were simply traveling around the country.

These women, living in paradise, outside of Monterey on the Pacific Ocean, were envious of US! Two guys, living from hotel to hotel with everything we own in the trunk of a VW Jetta named Synergy.

I realized at that time…wow…I am lucky. It didn’t matter that it rarely rains in California, but it was raining on us, during this once in a lifetime trip. We were living life. Experiencing the best that life has to offer. Living off of the inspiring sites, whether rain or shine.

Sure, I was a Wayfaring Stranger in Marina, CA, but for that night, at that Subway, I felt right at home. We were embraced as part of their community, and by telling our story, we invited them into our home, sharing a piece of our experience with them.

So, wherever you travel, wherever you eat, even if it’s as seemingly uninspiring as Subway, embrace it. Go out, tell your story, and invite others into your “home.”