A small child I know asked me today, “Mommy, if you could be anything and have any job you wanted, what would it be?” I immediately asked this child why she called me that and then answered, Travel Writer. Yes, in a world where airplane tickets cost jellybeans and I lived in the Jelly Belly factory, I would be a travel writer. My two favorite things–traveling and writing–combined in a magical occupation known as travel writing. Now, don’t get me wrong, I do write about my travels, it’s just that I don’t get around as much as I’d like. For now, h ere is something I wrote about a favorite California town of mine, in the form of a letter. Pictures below are also mine–I’m no expert, but I love the town.
Should I start with the quaint comfort of Cannery Row or the seafaring sights of Fisherman’s Wharf? I quite enjoy your blue ocean view and the creaks of the pier as I lean over the side to catch a glimpse of lazy sea lions sleeping on the docks. The decadent simplicity of your downtown, with quiet gardens that summon me at dusk. I cannot forget the lush, green hills of Seaside, with thick morning mist that settles softly on my skin in the early hours. My heart jumps in my chest at each twist and turn on Highway One. Under, over and through your tall, thin trees populating looming forests of Carmel, until suddenly the road breaks free onto stark cliffs with an endless ocean view. Big Sur, the depth of your beauty lies in the peaceful fields of grass leading to desolate sandy shores. There are no easy paths to your beaches, only treacherous cliffs and deep, dark forest. On and on until my head swims, the road sways in front on me. To my left, rolling hills with no fences or houses or people in sight. On my right, the monumental and ever-present sea, all shades of blue and white and green. No photograph or paragraph contains the ability to recreate your unintentional and constant beauty, Monterey, but yet I snap shot after shot, in the hopes of capturing a piece of your essence to take home with me. Alas, I keep you in my heart, and hold you tightly behind glass. You are a museum, a church, a home. I miss you already, as I write this note.
the collectiva diva
- Taking Pictures at the Monterey Bay Aquarium (california.answers.com)