Visions of warm, beachy vacations danced in our heads. Tropical trips in faraway places created a nice, spring break tradition in the last two years. A taste of the good life became an expectation, a “necessity”. Next in line? The endless possibilities ended instead.
We did not leave the state of California for spring break. Five days, including the weekend limited our choices. Whittle that down to three days to make room for a very honorable and important jazz festival for students in Monterey, and our trip is tripped up. Or as we like to refer to it: our trip-tripper.
We could not get excited; we’ve been to Monterey so many times, particularly when the kids were young and times were tight. It’s an hour and half drive, not too long for a little tike and a nice step out of the local sandboxes. As for me, I could not go to the aquarium one more time! It’s still too fresh. I know all I want to know about fish—unless I’m snorkeling in warm tropical water or it’s filleted on my dinner plate.
I also knew I’d be listening to the same jazz songs my son’s band has been playing for the last four performances, TWO MORE TIMES. His instrument, upright bass, would be traveling with us to Monterey and possibly beyond, a fifth-wheel. Ahh, it is yet another cramp in our travel style, a VERY BIG ONE.
The first night of our arrival was a pleasant surprise. Somehow we felt very important when the bellman was unloading the fifth-wheel and the electric bass too. We saw lots of guests coming in with black nylon bags in the shapes of trombones, saxophones and trumpets, and other fifth-wheels. The high school kids were especially cool, falling into musician character with trendy hats, clothes and dos. The fro is back and bigger is better! We could not believe our eyes at a 24-inch wide fro…and the dude was white.
 |
| My Cool Jewel |
My thirteen-year-old gained confidence and traction as he joined the throngs of jazz musicians, his people, and slipped into his character. He’s going to run with the big dogs. He’s never sported a beanie except for his latest snow camping trip. Now it’s a part of him like Linus’ blanket and it seems just as natural. He grew taller as his posture straightened and his smile broadened. It’s chilly and rainy in Monterey and suddenly it’s very cool. Nothing was inconvenient about this weekend now, not for any of us. We liked this Monterey exhibit/exhibition.
The band’s first performance was Saturday morning in a small auditorium, the parents watching and a couple of other bands waiting their turn to perform. After the kids’ show, a mom plopped down in the row in front of me. While my son “dis-banded” her son “banded”. She looked nice in her modern tan and white sheath dress with a long sleeved white turtleneck underneath. I felt sloppy in my jeans, a little short on parent pride for my child’s performance.
She immediately struck up a conversation. “Hi. We are from New Jersey.”
“Wow. New Jersey. I thought this was just a California thing. That’s great!” I’m a little embarrassed we whined about the1.5 hour drive.
“We’re from Camden, NJ. It’s one of the poorest cities in America. The parents raised the money to get here.” Now I’m really embarrassed about our 1.5 hour drive and “inconvenienced” vacation.
“Well if you came all the way from NJ, I’m definitely staying to listen.” I must make amends for my attitude towards a certain place. I really did want to stay and hear them play so this was a small retribution.
Our whole middle school band and all the parents stayed to listen. The NJ high school band was 100% African American and probably the only one at this jazz festival. They were fantastic. Our group gave them a standing “O” and our director called out, “I’m moving to New Jersey!” We all swarmed them and congratulated their performance. We wanted to know these people. I wanted to welcome them to wonderfulMonterey and even apologize for the wet weather.
The NJ band was to perform again at 3:30, for the judging part of the festival. We found something ten thousand times better than an aquarium to see in Monterey. Put that show on our day’s agenda! But first, we escorted the fifth-wheel back to the room. And then, lunch, It was pushing noon.
 |
| Sweet 16 Gift |
My husband knew of a fish shack about a 10-minute rainy walk from our hotel. Lunch was a hoot at our tiny table in this retro diner. The restaurant was stuffed with old-fashioned metal food tins for Premium saltines, Quaker oatmeal, and Barnum’s circus animal crackers. For my sixteenth birthday my mom gave me one of these canisters. “It’s a collector’s item,” my mom pressed upon me. I kind of wanted a fake pearl necklace for my birthday, but I appreciate the thought, thirty years later. Now, here I am excited at every familiar turn as I scan the restaurant decor.
 |
| Real Root Beer |
The kids ordered locally brewed root beer, made with REAL sarsaparilla. My husband got the other locally brewed stuff, “Fat Lip”. I settled for the Lou-mosa, Loulou restaurant’s signature mimosa with pomegranate. Super fresh fish and chips overflowed our plates. In the background, we could hear country songs from Johnny Cash and Willy Nelson. I felt like I was in a 1960s diner, a hipster retro trip. “This is the best!” I feel so proudly American here, and maybe old too. I could hardly eat I was taking so many pictures down kitschy-cool memory lane.
 |
| Salt & Pepper Shaker |
Everything we did was American born, including the jazz. In less than twenty-four hours we were describing our weekend as All-American. (My older son did mention the fish and chips technically don’t count, the British roots at least.) We loved our unexpected, nostalgic weekend, and it happened practically in our backyard. The trip-tripper was not warm or exotic and most importantly, not at the aquarium. We were in Americana heaven, a very nice place to stay, called Monterey.
Share on Facebook
Enjoyed your blog! It's so true that when we change our perspective on something, it can transform the experience. Thanks for the reminder.
It truly was the happy accident. Thanks for reading and sharing!