jenjoy

Ojai, Oh My

Ojai holds the remembered promises of tiny hamlets that use to exist near Los Angeles before the urban sprawl engulfed them.  Tucked between towering mountains, Ojai embraces the calm and peace that Southern California professes but rarely delivers.  My friend Meredith and I have made this journey north of Los Angeles to celebrate her birthday and seek truth to the rumors of restorative powers that our friends have boasted.  After fighting over two hours of bumper to bumper traffic through Oxnard and Ventura, we pull off the freeway onto California Highway 33 North, winding our way through little towns, along side the Ventura Bike Trail, a paved nine mile trail that ends at the beach in Ventura.

Our goal is the Oak Cafe at the Ojai Valley Inn and Spa (recently rated the#1 Spa destination in the world by Trip Advisor ).  Arriving mid afternoon, we are greeted by unimposing elegance, casual yet formal whitewashed Spanish style buildings spread out over 220 acres, home to the resort, spa, restaurants and golf course. The outdoor restaurant, surrounded by huge old oak trees, seems populated by resort guests and locals, and exudes a relaxed, take your time atmosphere.   As we sit at our table, watching people stroll along the edge of the golf course, the tensions and stress of our fast paced city lives disapates, replaced by tranquility and quiet.  We take this time to catch up with each others lives and eat from the casual American cuisine on the menu, followed (of course) by birthday cake.

After lunch we walk the grounds, enjoying the sparse layout of the resort's buildings and finally making our way to the spa.   I am reminded of my recent visit to the Center of Well Being Spa at The Phoenician Hotel in Phoenix, Az.  This would be a perfect place for my next "girls weekend getaway". Just walking the grounds, eating lunch and looking over the spa menu put me in a relaxed frame of mind, I can only imagine what  a weekend of pampering would do to my Psyche.

The Ojai Valley Resort and Spa is located on the outskirts of Ojai so Meredith and I decide to ventured deep into downtown Ojai, where the main drag only gets congested at 3P, when school lets out.  Having no trouble finding street parking, we wander in and out of art galleries, home stores and tea shops.  We just missed the 9th Annual Storytelling Festival , which took place in the park that runs along the center of town.

Ojai has a very laid back atmosphere, infused with artistic and therapeutic qualities.  I waited fourteen years before making the short drive there.  I won't wait as long to go back.

Westways Magazine

Westways Magazine, the magazine for AAA of Southern California is going to publish one of my travel tips in an upcoming issue.  I will keep you posted on my first publication!

Malibu, beaches, and meditating

The tide is dragging the seaweed up from the depths of the ocean and stringing them along the crustacean covered rocks that litter the beach, creating prehistoric creatures that move with the flowing water.   I am relieved to have them as my company, happy to be rid of the throngs of Angelenos I left behind in the San Fernando Valley.  When I first stumbled upon my little beach haven, I was doubtful that I could find peace here, with the busy four lane Pacific Coast Highway racing behind me.   I marvel at how the ocean suddenly stops the onslaught of humanity in its tracks, the offensive traffic noise drowned out by the crashing waves, the multitude of people ending where the water begins.  As far as my eye can see there is nothing but water. 

Two weeks ago I meditated for the first time.  Or should I say the  only time.  After several failed attempts in the intervening weeks, I had almost given up.  But the sea beckoned me, blew me kisses of promises of tranquility and I gave in.

Sitting on my bright pink towel, toes buried in the sand, I tried just forcing thoughts from my head.  They fought back, bombarding me with images of tsunamis, work and my grocery list.  Remembering the lessons learned from my first meditation session, I began to concentrate on my breathing. Rapid, open mouth,shallow breaths.  Fixing my sight on the begging swells of a wave, I breathed with it, watching it break into white frothy water, reaching for my feet.  Before long I am in a rhythm, my body following its own course, and I just am.  There is no other way to describe it.  Voices, distant car sounds, the chilly wind all fall away and there is only the ocean and me.  Then it happens.  As the water pulls away from the beach, gathering its strength for the wave, it pulls me too.  I feel the tug in my belly, not once but twice and it is as if I am the wave and the wave is me and I am floating in endless time.   The sea and me...we are as one.   And then that moment is gone.

The ocean showed me the calm and stillness within me through the thunder and swells of the surf.  It is a start, the beginning of a long and wondrous relationship.

The Last Stop For Paul

Urban myths extend to the world in this documentary style  travel movie.  In the movie, Cliff decided to take his much traveled co-worker, Charlie, up on his constant offers of adventure.  But there are two conditions;  it has to be around the world and he wants to bring his friend Paul.  Trouble is, Paul is in an urn.  After transferring Paul's ashes into a thermos, the two hit the road.

This is the thin premise for what really is a collection of crazy travel stories.  We all have them.  Those moments when your trip takes a sudden left turn towards crazy.

The fascinating aspect of this film is that the director is also the lead actor and the cinematographer plays his sidekick.  They shot without a crew, casting as they went along.  In scenes where you see both actors, more than likely they enlisted a passerby to hold the camera.  There are clips of this process during the credits and it amazing.  They filmed the movie just as we move through life, fluid and spur of the moment.

The movie also made me think about how I would want to be remembered when I am gone.  Would I want a friend to sprinkle my ashes all over the world?   It seems like such an authentic gesture.  If like Charlie in "Last Stop for Paul" it inspires a friend to travel for the first time, then I'd be honored.  In all honestly, however, I'd rather take a trip with you now so we can share the experience.  I'd rather my friends look back on photos of adventures we had together and remember me with a smile in their heart.

New Luggage

Apparently, to be considered a "true" traveler, you must own  Briggs and Riley Luggage.  Or so the salesman at Luggage 4 Less tells me.  I am still apprehensive (the luggage is NOT cheap) but there are several other customers in the store and they are purchasing Briggs and Riley.  Upon questioning, they confirm the salesman's accolades.  Not only are the pieces sturdy but Briggs and Riley offer an unprecedented lifetime warranty that includes airline damage.  For $15 shipping, they repair or replace your bag, no questions asked, in about two to three weeks.   You don't even have to register or have your original receipt.  Seems too good to be true.  I checked out their website  as soon as I got home and there it was in black and white:

"If your Briggs & Riley bag is ever broken or damaged, even if it was caused by an airline, we will repair it free of charge. Simple as that!"

The features that I liked, besides the unbelievable warranty, were the exterior  handle (leaving more room inside) and the magnetized luggage tag.   By now most of you know how I feel about the importance of luggage tags.

So I am now the proud owner of a new 21"carry on upright Briggs and Riley Transcend bag.  Now I just need a reason to pack it.

Franklin Canyon, California

I went on a little hike this weekend in a jewel of a park.   Nestled between the famous Mulholland Drive and Beverly Hills, Franklin Canyon is an oasis in the midst of the second largest city in the United States.   With its criss cross of hiking trails, lakes, fountains and picnic areas it should be packed with city dwellers looking for respite  but instead is one of it's best kept secrets.

We achieved a sweltering 89 degrees yesterday here in Los Angeles.   Too hot for an early April day and hopefully not a precursor for the long summer ahead.   Due to the heat, I wait until the sun begins its slow dip into the western horizon before heading out for my hike.

Now I know you are wondering, this is a travel blog, why are you writing about a hike?  Travel is a journey into new and exciting places.  Well,  I challenge you to change your thinking about travel.  Can't
your voyage derive from exploring a familiar location in a new way?  Or changing  your perspective?

I find myself, with dusk fast approaching, walking down a familiar route but everything is different.  In the past I have been down this path in the morning, with friends.  Now, shadows are creeping down the mountainsides, the frogs are singing and the only thing keeping me company is the crunching of my shoes on the dirt.  And even though I know where I will end up,  I am in new territory with eyes wide open.

Take a new path down an old road.

Sedona

There is a vortex in Sedona.  Or so I've heard.    While I had no personal epiphanies there I did begin to feel lighter but then I realized that was because I was giving out handfuls of cash to the shops in the area known as Tlaquepaque, where local artists sell their wares.

Heather and I forced ourselves away from our relaxing haven at the Phoenician in Phoenix to
make the two hour drive over the high desert to Sedona.  The first thing we stumbled upon was
the poser town called The Village of Oak Creek.    The Village that doesn't have any signs so that
strangers think it is Sedona.  Whatever.

Of course the red rocks took my breath away, rising majestically out of the desert floor, they are mesmerizing.  We stopped and took the pre-requisite photos before exploring the artist enclave
at Tlaquepaque.  Unfortunately, or according to my checking account fortunately, we only had about two hours before they closed up shop, promptly at 5P.  I asked one of the shopkeepers where the locals like to eat  and she pointed us to the Sedona Airport Restaurant, located on one of the higher plateaus. A beautiful place for the sunset and the perfect ending for the day (if you make the two hour drive back to Phoenix a footnote).

If you'd like to read more about Sedona check out this article from Budget Travel:  25 Reasons We Love Sedona.

Phoenix/Sedona Photo Album

Its new. Its posted.  Check it out!

The Phoencian Breakfast

We all deserve to be spoiled but rarely do we allow it. Heather and I took the plunge by ordering breakfast in our room.  We could think of no better way to start our day than staying in our pjs, having food brought to us and hanging out on our balcony overlooking the pool.

I have worked on location and stayed in enough hotels to have granted myself this treat before but wasn't prepare me for the service that the Phoenician staff bestowed upon us.  I indicated to the gentleman who brought our breakfast that we were going to eat on the veranda.  Instead of plopping our room service trays on the outdoor table he went to work completely setting the table and even brought a toaster so my english muffin would be freshly toasted.   We settled down to our breakfast spread and before leaving he presented us with the local paper. 

We basked in our self-indulgence, enjoying the silence of demands, watching the day unfold before us without worry.

We dallied so long that we were late for our spa appointments.

And while we were gone.  They came and cleaned up after us.

(sigh)

What I Learned

I think that I learn something new on every trip that I take, things that will make the next trip easier, better, even more enjoyable.  Some lessons take several trips to sink in.  Here are a few from my latest trip:

1.  I need a new weekend bag.  The bag I have (purchased at Target) is a tad too big, the wheels are too small, and it topples over too easily.

2.  LAX is hell.   I MUST MUST MUST fly out of the much smaller Burbank airport whenever possible.

3.  Pay attention to the  dates for Spring Break.  The Sunday I got back from Phoenix was also the Sunday
that every single student enrolled in UCLA was flying back from Spring Break.

4.  I need a travel friendly haircut.  Something that doesn't has to be gelled and blown dry.  A style that
looks great right out of the pool or on a windy mountainside.

5.  I need a smaller, lighter computer.  My computer bag is always too heavy.  Maybe I need a new computer bag too.