Wine and naked

I am finally in the city, and it is such a beautiful city. I’ve only been around the mission district so far, but there is art and cheap mexican food EVERYWHERE! So happy.

So where were we... oh yes, I need to recap yesterday. It started off with a walk and lots of good picture taking at the campground... I think Ocean Cove was the name of the place. Anyway, I ended up in Santa Rosa, where I picked up a few groceries (couldn’t resist stopping at a Grocery Outlet for dad’s sake) and then my foiled attempt to update my blog from Starbucks. So I hit the road and ended up driving too far north, but found a highway that was really pretty and that landed me in Calistoga. Calistoga was the perfect picturesque town loaded with two kinds of people. Wealthy city dwellers getting away for the weekend... and the hispanics that worked at all the shops. Spanish is more of a primary than a secondary language here come to find out. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But it does bring to the surface the fact that Spokane has almost no racial diversity, which has caused me to want to kindly tell some folks that they are in America, and they should go back to mexico if they don’t want to learn correct English. Not that I would ever say that, I just think it.

I drove north from Calistoga in hopes to find the Silverado Trail, which is a senic drive through wine country. The man at the glass shop didn’t give the best directions... either that or I am inept at getting around in foreign places. I think both might be true. Either way I found myself in Middletown, which is a small little town that probably wouldn’t exist without tourism, but it’s not really a tourist town. Kinda ugly actually... but the first town I’d seen with a carwash on the main drag, and seeing as how I had been needing to give Franke a bath, I promptly slammed on my brakes and pulled in. It was a 3 dollar minimum, and only having two ones and a ten, I headed down the road to get change. Wine tasting 11 to 8 read the sign, so I pulled in to kill two birds with one stone. I was in need of some wine at that moment. Martin was a super friendly guy, originally from the Chezch Republic, and he gave me loads of information on Napa Valley, wine in general, how everything comes down to the soil the grapes come from, and the whole organic growing process. It was a great history lesson. I still hadn’t found a place to stay for the night, so I asked if there was any place he recommended. He told me about a hot springs that was just up the road, and being a bit stiff and sore, I decided that was just what I needed.

The sun had set by the time I had washed Franke, and I headed up the road he told me to turn on. “Half to a mile up and you’ll take a right, you can’t miss it” were his words. When someone says you can’t miss it, I expect at least a large sign with an arrow. So 5 miles and a STEEP grade later, I decided to turn around and head back. Ends up the turn was only a few blocks in, and the sign wasn’t much bigger than the palm of my hand. It was dark by the time I got there, so I pulled up to register anticipating soaking my now stressed muscles in hot water. “Be aware that this is a clothing optional hot springs,” the man told me. Yeah, sure, fine, whatever, I thought to myself. My only other hot springs experience flashed in my head, and there were sections where people went if they wanted to be nude, but most kept their shorts on outside of the locker room. I parked the van and decided to take a stroll around. It was a very peaceful setting... in a buddhist, feng shui, new age-ish kind of way. I made my way to the pools, where I was welcomed by lots and lots of naked. There was not a single person with clothes on unless they were in the changing room. And we’re not just talking the wrinkled saggy types that usually frequent hot springs... there were many young attractive naked people. My tense muscles did not relax at this sight, and I promptly headed back to my van to drink the bottle of wine that I bought. After much contemplation and liquid courage I made my way back to the pools. Entering the changing room I quickly realized that there were no mens or womens section, but just a large well heated room where men and women casually conversed while dressing or undressing. What blew my mind is that most would delay the process of putting on their clothes, and just stand there talking... naked! This had to be one of the most foreign experiences of my life. I have a hard enough time being naked in front of myself... let alone a bunch of people. No sooner had I dropped my shorts, and my towel was wrapped neatly around me. Once I made it into the water I was okay, and glad to have some relief for my muscles. There was definitely a kind of creepy vibe about the place... I got the feeling that it’s the kind of spot where a lot goes on behind closed doors. Anyway, I’m going to end there because I’m really tired and it’s late and I need to process my day. Peace.