Early morning, before the little town had woken up, we went down to the ocean. With sand seeping through our sneakers we walked on the pretty much empty beach as the sun rose behind a thin layer of clouds. A blue, beautiful light painted the palm trees, the flowers against the cliffs and the sand. Dogs ran past us and my stomach was growling for coffee and breakfast.
We came back to the hotel and sat down on the terrace. A buffet of granola and yoghurt, fruits, different kinds of bread and spreads, omelets and waffles, juices and coffee. We ate for hours, talking about how being retired should be just like this. Skimming through the paper, refilling your coffee, chatting about trivial things like if it’s going to rain.
Then we packed our little Beetle again and continued south. Most of Big Sur was closed off because of mud slides from all the rain. It’s been the wettest winter in years they say. We make it down to a state park and go for a little walk around the beaches and cliffs. Sea lions are being lazy in the white sand, wild flowers are lighting up the woods.
As we take off towards our second stop along the way to LA we have to take the inland road. Cruising between green hills, cows chilling as we’re blasting the newest Drake. For lunch we stop in a tiny town where they have a burrito spot. We eat as we watch school kids getting dropped off by the school bus and waiting for their parents to pick them up. The burritos are delicious and the restroom disgusting.
In time for checking in at our hotel in Pismo Beach, the slight rain wears off and we drink our whiskey sours at the surf bar outside. It smells of weed and fried shrimp and everyone wears sleeveless hoodies and flipflops. After a dinner with margaritas we walk back to our hotel which has an open fireplace to warm us up. Falling asleep to the rain and Dancing With the Stars. The next day we’re hitting up LA.