Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time I fell in love with a handsome, young, blue-eyed man named Charlie. An imposing Yugoslavian once described him to me as "the nicest guy in Bethesda" and I was inclined to believe him. Lucky for me, he fell in love with me too. Twelve years have gone by since then and that young man and I have accomplished more than I could have ever imagined. We have traveled to numerous countries together, eaten (and cooked) some of the best food on the planet, laughed, cried, declined to suffer fools gladly, and shared our life experiences with many other earthlings, you readers included. Five years ago we did what felt natural and good and got married. To commemorate that event this year, we decided to take a little overnight trip to Nye Beach in Newport, Oregon. Here's the story of our brief adventure:

For those not in the loop, we moved to Ashland, Oregon in September of last year. To give you an idea of our geographical position, we're so far south in the state that we're only about 30 minutes from California. Thus, getting to Newport is about a five-hour affair. We rose with the sun, which obnoxiously shows its face around 6:00 AM this time of year. But it was nice to lounge around, get caffeinated, and have breakfast without feeling rushed to get out the door. We made salami and Swiss sandwiches for the road and loaded them into a grocery bag with beverages and a huge bag of salt and pepper flavored Kettle Chips. These chips have a sentimental significance to us because we had them on our first beach trip together at the beginning of our relationship, to Long Beach, Washington. Since then these chips have made an appearance on many a romantic road trip. Charlie even brought them all the way to Spain once!

Our first stop would be just twenty minutes from home at Cigar Cave in Medford, one of the only two reputable cigar stores in the Rogue Valley, both of which happen to be owned by the same person. There Charlie picked up a few goodies with which to while away the hours, including an aptly selected Padrón Family Reserve 50 Years anniversary cigar. Tobacco in hand, we hit the road for real.

Our second stop was a place I had been dying to revisit since my childhood: Wildlife Safari in Winston, Oregon. My parents, brother, and I visited it when we were just kids and we have always reminisced about it fondly. I remembered ostriches coming right up to our car and pecking at the window, trying to get at the plastic straw sticking out of one of my parents' drink containers. My dad remembers rolling down the window at one point and hearing a voice come over a loud speaker commanding him to roll it back up. I half expected to be disappointed by this excursion, just because childhood memories have a way of aggrandizing themselves in our consciousness. Nevertheless, I was excited to go just for the prospect of seeing some neat animals.

When we got there, the place seemed much larger, greener, and better equipped than I remembered. In addition to the drive-through safari feature, it now boasts the second largest captive cheetah breeding program in the world and offers "Enrichment Encounters" where you can get up close and personal with cheetahs, elephants, giraffes, and bears. And where they once forbade rolling down one's window, we now had the option to buy feed cups with which to coax deer, emus, and other more docile animals. It was buzzing with business due to some "Discovery Day" event happening. We were fortunate that we didn't have to wait long though, and quickly paid our admission and entered the park.

The first creatures we saw were two magnificent giraffes eating leaves off of some tall trees very near the road. Just meters from them stood two large turkeys gobbling away. It was an odd juxtaposition. Having seen YouTube videos of people provoking turkeys to gobble by imitating them, I gave it a try. It proved ineffective and just reminded Charlie of what a dork he married.

 Handsome creature

The park was organized by continent, and we had begun in Africa, which meant we got to see many more exotic creatures. Three big handsome male lions and a sleek lioness lounged in the grass (behind a protective fence, of course, because humans are stupid). Gigantic grey elephants roamed around flapping their big ears and swinging their trunks lackadaisically. Zebras, water buffalo and wildebeests grazed or snoozed, clearly at ease with the apex predators behind bars. The ankole-watusi defied physics with their impossibly long horns. A hippo's snout and tiny ears betrayed its location in a murky pond.

 Greeting the visitors

In the Americas, imposing dark brown, serene-faced buffalo shed their winter coats. Tall elk approached car windows anticipating that visitors might want to share from their feed cups. Two rotund brown bears had curled into balls and were napping in the long grass, looking too cuddly to be as dangerous as they are. Hundreds of Canada geese mixed in with animals of all continents, some leading around lines of darling goslings, still puffy with down.

I was disappointed that we didn't see any rhinoceros, maned wolves, or tamarins, but that's to be expected when animals have more than 400 acres to go where they please. All in all, it was a fascinating experience and I was very happy to have done it.

Once we exited the safari, we pulled into a parking lot and had a first round of sandwiches and Kettle Chips and took the opportunity to stretch. Then we were back in the car and on the road for another few hours. Fortunately, I had carefully crafted a post-punk/new wave music playlist for us to jam out to on the way.

Some 50 miles from Newport we found ourselves in need of a pee and a stretch, but were in the middle of nowhere. We happened upon a tiny dark wood-paneled general store outside of Blodgett called the Burnt Woods Store. It seemed like it was trying to look like a relic of the Old West. A single decrepit gas pump stood out front and I wondered how well it worked. Inside the store was dark and dusty and looked like half of it was in use as the owners garage/general storage area. The fellow behind the counter seemed normal enough. He wore a dingy t-shirt, jeans, glasses, and was munching on a bag of chips, probably from his own stock, and watching The Office on a small TV. Charlie and I took turns braving a dark, creepy hallway to use the establishment's single, foul-smelling restroom. Once sat on the toilet, the user was eye level with a small sign that said that this was not a public restroom, they had bills to pay and would the user kindly support the establishment by buying something. Fortunately for us, we forgot our toothbrushes, so Charlie bought a couple of those, a small tube of toothpaste, and a bag of fragrant gummy worms, just for good measure. On our way out the door we were met by a large yellow labrador sprawled out in the shade. I made stupid baby voices at her, and she raised her sleepy head to examine me. After a quick sniff of approval, she curled her paws up to fully present her belly for a rub. Once back in the car, we confirmed to one another that the place did indeed have a weird vibe and then continued on our journey toward the beach.

As we neared Newport the sea rose far above the continental horizon like an infinitely wide purple plateau. Within a few turns we had arrived at our destination: the Sylvia Beach Hotel, housed in the historic New Cliff House above Nye Beach. Charlie's parents had introduced us to this literary themed hotel some years before and we immediately fell in love with it. Its rooms are what I call "lightly" themed for different authors; that is, they don't necessarily go all out with stylistic decor to match an author's magnum opus, but rather add subtle classy touches to the room for an interesting if not necessarily immersive experience. For example, on our first visit we stayed in the Shakespeare room, which was decorated in dark reds and dark ornately carved woods, with props from different plays hanging tastefully here and there. This time we stayed in the Tolkien room and its topical decor mainly consisted of a map of Middle Earth on the wall and several quotes from different works, either painted or hung around the room. As far as I can tell, each room has a collection of its author's books and a writing desk and chair. The hotel has no TVs or WiFi, but on the third floor is a cozy library with lots of comfortable armchairs. Visitors may borrow from it at their leisure and spend as long as they want there. The hotel also has a charming golden tortoiseshell cat named Shelley, who cuddled in bed with us during our first visit there. As we checked in we informed the concierge that if Shelley happened to be looking for a place to sleep that night, she was welcome to join us in our room.

It was late afternoon so we dropped our things in the room, had another quick round of sandwiches and Kettle Chips, and headed out to the beach. It was very windy but warm, and many people flew kites. We ended up walking some four miles on the beach that day alone, leisurely strolling up and down the shoreline. The sand was firm and warm and in places littered with the corpses of purple trilobite-like mole crabs and half-eaten Dungeness crabs. The seagulls must have had a feast.

The seabirds were here.

Of course, Charlie took the opportunity to smoke the special cigar he had just bought and from that experience I present to you the latest episode of Smoking in the Park! 

We made our way back up into civilization and looked around for a place to have dinner. It was Monday, so a lot of places were closed, as is customary in the industry. We were starting feeling resigned to our fates of eating greasy fish and chips at an Irish pub when we happened upon a small, casual Italian restaurant with an intriguing menu. We decided that it looked like our best bet and headed back to the hotel to get changed. As we entered the hotel's patio, we found Shelley the cat excitedly pursuing some small birds that must have had a nest nearby. They did not fly far to flee her and instead perched atop the building and chirped angrily in her direction. Shelley deigned to let me give her a moment of affection and then resumed her pursuit.

Charlie and I got halfway gussied up and then set out for dinner. The restaurant was called Sorella. The decor was unassuming but clean and pleasant, and there were few people inside. We nestled into a corner booth and began to peruse the menu. As an appetizer we shared an excellent burrata served with whole roasted marinated tomato, basil, roasted tomato oil, spiced vinegar, and grilled ciabatta. I had never had it before and found it delectable. For our mains Charlie had one of their pizzas topped with pork belly, fingerling potatoes, English peas, ricotta cream, and ricotta salata. It doesn't sound like it should work, but was surprisingly tasty. I went with the old trusty bucatini carbonara served with pork belly confit, garlic, pangrattato, egg yolk, and pecorino. I ate every last bite.

The service was excellent and when our server came to inquire as to whether we wanted dessert, we quizzed her about the different ingredients and preparation methods of our dishes. It was then that we found out that everything was handmade in-house! The quality and variety of dishes were impressive. We then opted for a black coffee (Charlie) and a shared scoop of buttermilk vanilla gelato served atop some kind of lemony crumble. It was honestly the best gelato I have ever had. If you ever find yourself in Nye Beach, this restaurant is definitely worth a visit.

After dinner we ambled with our full bellies down to the beach to witness the colorful sunset that was quickly approaching. Charlie indulged in another cigar as we paced along the shining sand and watched the sun melt into the horizon. We stayed out until we could see the pulsing of the beacon atop the faraway Yaquina Head Lighthouse. Thousands of unnerving sand fleas were beginning to emerge and ricochet against our lower legs and we worried it would become too dark to safely tread along the unfamiliar terrain, so we headed back to the hotel.

Goodnight, Earth.

Despite the relative quiet and comfort of our room, we both slept fitfully and rose with the sun. We've never been good at sleeping away from the comfort of our own deluxe bed. We dressed and packed and then headed down to the hotel's dining room. On the way we found Shelley the cat enjoying her bowl of cat food atop a bookshelf in the lobby. We gave her a few scratches and let her be. In the dining room we were joined at the table by a friendly German man named Jürgen. As we dined, he told us that he and his wife were driving from Seattle to San Francisco and then back up to Vancouver, Canada, stopping periodically to take in the sights. We strongly recommended he take a small detour to see Crater Lake since it is easily one of the most impressive natural landmarks in Oregon. We excused ourselves after taking in as much coffee and sad scrambled eggs as we cared to, and headed back up to our room. On the way, I found Shelley sitting on the stairs and so sat next to her and tried to pull her onto my lap. She resisted, but allowed me to pet her. The attention must have worked up her appetite because she quickly returned to her food bowl.

We had plans that morning to visit the Hatfield Marine Science Center, a part of Oregon State University. A friend had told me that they had lots of cool creatures there and a pacific octopus exhibit with a baby octopus! We were extremely excited to see these wonderful things, but as we pulled into the parking lot Charlie noticed a sign that said it was closed that day. I swore I had checked the hours before, but they have different hours for different seasons and I must have looked at the wrong one. At any rate, we were incredibly disappointed. Taking advantage of our early start, we hit a drive-thru coffee stand and made our way to the highway.

A little after noon, we found ourselves hungry and nearing Eugene, a city that neither of us had visited before. I told Charlie to google a taquería where we could stop for lunch and he pulled up the promisingly named Taquería Mi Tierra, just a short distance from the interstate. We found the place and had to circle the block a couple of times to find parking, making note of the interesting neighborhood in which we had found ourselves. There were enough unsavory and generally unhinged characters walking around that I wondered aloud whether our car would be there when we returned. Even so, we decided to brave it and were glad we did. As soon as we entered the restaurant we knew we had come to the right place. The aroma of carne asada and fried masa hit us squarely in the olfactory organs. Mexican music and Spanish conversation floated in the air. The place was nearly full and the clientele all appeared to be Latino blue collar workers. We approached the counter and a friendly woman took our order in Spanish from behind the two huge horchata jars perched there. We each ordered four tacos filled with carne asada, carnitas, chicharrón, and lengua, and our total was only around $12.00. Within minutes a friendly man with a huge black mustache brought out our food, we collected a few accessories at the salsa bar, and happily ate one of the best Mexican meals of our lives.

Bellies happy, we found our way back to the car, which had not been stolen, and continued our journey toward Ashland. About an hour from home we needed to pee, so we stopped at the first place that presented itself. Just outside of Wolf Creek was the Covered Bridge Country Store & Antiques (scroll through the photos on the Facebook page). Further down the lot was the Applegate Trail Interpretive Center and Museum, which appeared to be closed. From the road, the country store looked like another quaint Old West-style general store occupying the site of what was once a gas station or truck stop. As we pulled into the parking area where we could get a closer look, it began to resemble more of a backwoods dive bar. We went inside, which was very dimly lit, and were greeted by a quiet but friendly large bearded mountain man character. We grabbed a few snacks and had a quick look at the crowded antiques displays. We felt out of our element, but it wasn't creepy in the way one would expect. When we inquired about restrooms, he directed us to the decrepit shell of a gas station across the parking lot. This was where it got creepy. The building was completely run down and appeared to be in disuse except for the occasional tourist. There was no way to lock the women's restroom door. It was dirty and lacked any toilet paper, towels, or soap. One wall bore a fat magenta smudge of lipstick that looked like it had been applied by smooshing someone's face into it. I took care of business as quickly as possible and exited, running into Charlie in the corridor. He didn't look nearly as unnerved as I felt.

Despite our questionable choice of pit stops, we made it home in one piece and spent the rest of the evening eating junk food and watching Netflix. Not a bad end to a really special anniversary trip!