Monterey, Again
This time, for real, even though the world is aflame.
Last August, I was supposed to travel to the Monterey area of California, where I was going to visit my friend Mary and her family in Salinas. I postponed because it was the same week CJ moved back to college, and money was tighter than I expected. This unemployment business takes some getting used to.
This time, I’m better equipped to go. I depart a week from this Friday, and I’ve entered Travel Mode, where all I want to do is plan and imagine and dream. Except I’m not really veering from my original plan.
I’ve booked my whale-watching trip. I’m a little bummed that changing the date of my trip meant going too late in the year for a sunset cruise, but that’s fine. I might see whales and damn! That’s incredible!
I’m also excited to hit the Pacific Coast Highway and hopefully drive down to San Luis Obispo for a look-around. I’ve always dreamed of driving the PCH. Until recently, a large section between Monterey and Big Sur was closed for repairs, but it has recently reopened. I’ll just be doing two relatively small sections—Santa Cruz to Monterey, and then Monterey to SLO. Seems like a great start to me.
I’m flying into Oakland, and since I’m flying in the wee morning hours, I’ll be there early enough to do some exploring. Faces by Liliana in Alameda is near the top of the list. I need a good exfoliator.
I have a concern about this trip. Every three months, my insurance allows me the privilege of getting shots deep into both buttcheeks to numb the pain from nerve compression. They always wear off just shy of the three-month mark. I have the insurance-required three-month consultation appointment two days before I leave, so chances of getting the shots before I go are slim.
I’ve spent much of today sitting on a heating pad because this is just that ridiculous. I’ll likely be taking the heating pad with me, and I’m double-checking plans to ensure that I won’t be doing anything that causes more pain than necessary. Beach walks are likely out of the question. I think I know how to best ensure that I get a seat for the three-hour whale trip. Mary has a hot tub, and that bodes well for me. I’ll do the things I can, and I’ll greatly enjoy them.
At a time of great uncertainty, when so many people are going to potentially find themselves without food, writing about this trip feels extremely frivolous. Starting a travel business seems equally so. That’s money I could give to my local food pantry. I don’t have any words of wisdom or justifications. They all sound trite when I practice saying them out loud.
So what can I do? Recognizing my privilege isn’t enough. Money’s tight, so I’m not sure how much I’ll have to donate. I’ve spent a lot of time cooking in transitional housing for unhoused people over the years, but this nerve compression pain makes that nearly impossible. It feels like I’m taking a side guilt trip on this trip.
But I’m going to keep my eyes open. Keep my ears open. Carry cash so I can at least tip well and have something for people asking for cash on the streets. I’m going to pay attention, especially in regards to people without homes in California, since their governor/recently-announced presidential candidate doesn’t have a great history in caring for them.
Travel, for me, isn’t just about getting away from my life. I travel so I can experience life and the world in an effort to better understand our culture and humanity. Does that stop in horrible times, or is that when it’s most important? I don’t have an answer to that. My inkling is that it’s important. I can use my privilege to get out of my bubble and maybe understand what the fuck’s going on here and elsewhere.
I’m finally making my Monterey trip, but this time my eyes are wider and pockets open. It can’t be all martinis in the hot tub.
If you buy me a coffee, there’s a good chance I’ll pass the money along to someone else who needs it more than I do.