5am: Time-zone changes are a bugger. No matter what, I wake up at bread baker's hour here on the Golden Coast.
Speaking of food, arriving in Santa Barbara, first order of business was to eat. Right on the waterfront strip, across the the mile- wide sandy beech that crests this curving shoreline community is a little low slung, terra cotta roofed spot called Eladio's. Denise and I sat in the open-air courtyard among the flowering lavender hedge (never seen lavender trained into a hedge), wild ground-cover strawberries, and the quintessential Spanish-colonial central water fountain. The courtyard smelled yummy, and added to the experience of the seared Ahi tuna salad.
Later, we strolled up the main retail/downtown strip, State St. How can one street remind me of a Spanish tapas tasting? What wasn't going on all at once? Part of the street was blocked off for classic cars and muscle cars on display by their owners. Some Real Housewives, surfer kids, Tourists (yah, we always stand out - we may as well wear 'my name is Bob' stickers on our lapels) car-owning gearheads, and people living on this street all converge. Local and high-end national retailers stand in as the clean- washed, genteel backdrop, as opposed to perhaps their accustomed role as shiny, preppy, eager to please child performing for attention.
This wasn't like a mixing, in the American melting pot way, the traffic of people didn't melt into one another. It was more like seeing rivers or stream meet; muddy water meeting clear water doesn't mix and dilute. The streams just slide by, different densities, different things in-suspension, sharing the same path. Like me in my chinos sitting on a embroidered floor cushion in the lantern festooned All India Cafe on State St!
Speaking of food, arriving in Santa Barbara, first order of business was to eat. Right on the waterfront strip, across the the mile- wide sandy beech that crests this curving shoreline community is a little low slung, terra cotta roofed spot called Eladio's. Denise and I sat in the open-air courtyard among the flowering lavender hedge (never seen lavender trained into a hedge), wild ground-cover strawberries, and the quintessential Spanish-colonial central water fountain. The courtyard smelled yummy, and added to the experience of the seared Ahi tuna salad. 
Later, we strolled up the main retail/downtown strip, State St. How can one street remind me of a Spanish tapas tasting? What wasn't going on all at once? Part of the street was blocked off for classic cars and muscle cars on display by their owners. Some Real Housewives, surfer kids, Tourists (yah, we always stand out - we may as well wear 'my name is Bob' stickers on our lapels) car-owning gearheads, and people living on this street all converge. Local and high-end national retailers stand in as the clean- washed, genteel backdrop, as opposed to perhaps their accustomed role as shiny, preppy, eager to please child performing for attention.
This wasn't like a mixing, in the American melting pot way, the traffic of people didn't melt into one another. It was more like seeing rivers or stream meet; muddy water meeting clear water doesn't mix and dilute. The streams just slide by, different densities, different things in-suspension, sharing the same path. Like me in my chinos sitting on a embroidered floor cushion in the lantern festooned All India Cafe on State St!
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