Day three (11-10-17)
What sounded like an explosion woke me up. The windows shuddered, like there was a blast wave. A minute later, there was a second. Then a roaring sound, like a low flying aircraft, started up and got louder, then faded, then got louder, then faded ... On its third repetition it woke Noel up. She looked out the window to see a streetsweeping vehicle go by. Why were they driving up and down the little street? We didn't know. It finally went away and we went back to sleep.
We were up at six, though, padding through the quiet house. Noel put on coffee and started making breakfast. By the time Mom and Emilio were awake, she had prepared a delicious potato and pepper scramble. She fried eggs and made more coffee, and we had breakfast.
Then we packed up and said goodbye, goodbye for now. My mom cried, Emilio gave me a bro hug, Dingo licked our hands one last time, and we drove off.
We stopped at the Vallarta Market to provision for the drive, and to get our bearings, and to get dollars for the ice cream machine in the rest area. Seriously, we were going to stop at that thing this time.
Caught the highway again and headed south. There were misty clouds over the hills as we approached. Just past El Tejon Ranch, we found the rest area again. And -- on this side of the highway, the card reader on the ice cream machine was working. So we got our ice cream sandwiches after all.
(If you're wondering, how did the machine dispense the sandwiches? They sit in a refrigerated case. The lid flips up, and a mechanical arm drops into the case and selects the sandwich via a suction device. It lifts it out and drops it into the exit tray. The ice creams are frozen extra hard to ease lifting.)
We got back on the freeway and drove, and soon enough found our way to the Getty turnoff. We didn't have much time so we parked as best we could (a woman scolded us in the parking garage and warned us not to scratch her car; we didn't, lady) and rode the mysterious tram up to the museum -- a beautiful edifice, gleaming in the sun, filled with amazing art. We quickly looked at as much of an exhibit of pre-Columbian art as we could manage, but we both felt like we had to keep moving.
So back on the freeway. We found the turnoff to LAX so easily it was strange. Driving was easier than either of us had anticipated. We turned in the rental car and rode back to the airport on the shuttle. Then we caught the shuttle from the airport to Long Beach.
On the bus there was a guy who kept asking the driver if she could take cash, and she told him it was debit or credit cards only. He was from Montenegro, shipping out the next day on an cruise liner as a fitness instructor. We bought him a ticket -- Noel got him one on her phone -- and he paid us back, and we all got to ride the bus.
We arrived at the Long Beach stop. The sun was going down, so we found our hotel fast. The Vagabond Inn. It's a little scrappier than most: the elevators are broken, the stopper in the bathtub is loose in the drain, the clock's display by the side of the bed is frozen at 17:L7. Other people who are staying at this hotel report that their rooms are torn up, concrete visible, sheets of visqueen taped up.
Well, it's comfortable enough. It's quieter than I thought. The noisiest, scariest hotel I've ever stayed in was in Vancouver, BC. They punched a guy through a window; most of the night we were kept awake by people running around and by emergency vehicles. Despite a little noise to begin with here, the nights have been quiet.
We slung our bags and walked out to the beach.
After walking a ways, we were hungry, and Noel was captivated by the idea of Roscoe's Chicken And Waffles, so we went there. Why not? Eat where Obama ate: there's a video of him getting snacks at Roscoe's, though not at that location. We had a grand meal of chicken and rice and biscuits and fries and greens and mac & cheese .. a bit rich for poor Noel, whose tummy didn't accept delivery of the tasty foods, so we went to Von's and got some stuff to settle her stomach, then turned in for the night.
We were up at six, though, padding through the quiet house. Noel put on coffee and started making breakfast. By the time Mom and Emilio were awake, she had prepared a delicious potato and pepper scramble. She fried eggs and made more coffee, and we had breakfast.
Then we packed up and said goodbye, goodbye for now. My mom cried, Emilio gave me a bro hug, Dingo licked our hands one last time, and we drove off.
We stopped at the Vallarta Market to provision for the drive, and to get our bearings, and to get dollars for the ice cream machine in the rest area. Seriously, we were going to stop at that thing this time.
Caught the highway again and headed south. There were misty clouds over the hills as we approached. Just past El Tejon Ranch, we found the rest area again. And -- on this side of the highway, the card reader on the ice cream machine was working. So we got our ice cream sandwiches after all.
(If you're wondering, how did the machine dispense the sandwiches? They sit in a refrigerated case. The lid flips up, and a mechanical arm drops into the case and selects the sandwich via a suction device. It lifts it out and drops it into the exit tray. The ice creams are frozen extra hard to ease lifting.)
We got back on the freeway and drove, and soon enough found our way to the Getty turnoff. We didn't have much time so we parked as best we could (a woman scolded us in the parking garage and warned us not to scratch her car; we didn't, lady) and rode the mysterious tram up to the museum -- a beautiful edifice, gleaming in the sun, filled with amazing art. We quickly looked at as much of an exhibit of pre-Columbian art as we could manage, but we both felt like we had to keep moving.
So back on the freeway. We found the turnoff to LAX so easily it was strange. Driving was easier than either of us had anticipated. We turned in the rental car and rode back to the airport on the shuttle. Then we caught the shuttle from the airport to Long Beach.
On the bus there was a guy who kept asking the driver if she could take cash, and she told him it was debit or credit cards only. He was from Montenegro, shipping out the next day on an cruise liner as a fitness instructor. We bought him a ticket -- Noel got him one on her phone -- and he paid us back, and we all got to ride the bus.
We arrived at the Long Beach stop. The sun was going down, so we found our hotel fast. The Vagabond Inn. It's a little scrappier than most: the elevators are broken, the stopper in the bathtub is loose in the drain, the clock's display by the side of the bed is frozen at 17:L7. Other people who are staying at this hotel report that their rooms are torn up, concrete visible, sheets of visqueen taped up.
Well, it's comfortable enough. It's quieter than I thought. The noisiest, scariest hotel I've ever stayed in was in Vancouver, BC. They punched a guy through a window; most of the night we were kept awake by people running around and by emergency vehicles. Despite a little noise to begin with here, the nights have been quiet.
We slung our bags and walked out to the beach.
After walking a ways, we were hungry, and Noel was captivated by the idea of Roscoe's Chicken And Waffles, so we went there. Why not? Eat where Obama ate: there's a video of him getting snacks at Roscoe's, though not at that location. We had a grand meal of chicken and rice and biscuits and fries and greens and mac & cheese .. a bit rich for poor Noel, whose tummy didn't accept delivery of the tasty foods, so we went to Von's and got some stuff to settle her stomach, then turned in for the night.