The slogan for the city of Santa Cruz is, West Coast New Jersey. I’m sure Jersey has no claim on the pier/boardwalk feel, but I can say it felt quite a bit like home. The surrounding town bore a striking resemblance to Ann Arbor, visually anyway. I couldn’t get a read on the organic granola scene here, so that parallel remains a mystery.
We walked up and down the boardwalk, goofin’ on the people, as some who aren’t me would say, and ate some shitty carnival food. Magnificent. We opted not to pay $3 for a game of skeeball, because as it turns out you CAN put a price on nostalgia. And that price is less than $3.
We hit the compulsory funhouse mirrors and checked out a few of the arcades, which included a light gun gallery. The piano man has lost his pep over the years but it’s still fun shooting him in the butt. I think Sarah was surprised by her marksmanship. I was impressed to see plenty of games from the 70s and 80s still there, and still a quarter each. Skeeball didn’t get the memo.
We finished off the night by eating some legendary chowder bread bowls in a funky place at the end of the wharf that rotated while we ate. We made it one lap. I guess we eat quickly. Oh, and the place had portholes in the floor that showed the ocean below. One happened to have a bunch of sea lions chillin’ on the wharf’s struts. They were at least 5 feet off the water so I have no idea how they got up there (high tide?). There was no intercom system, so we were unable to ask them.
We’re back and the AirBnB place now, contemplating the bottle of wine they left for us that we’re too tired and full to drink. I hope they don’t think we were too good for their selection. Tomorrow we plan to find a hike or another state park to checkout. I don’t think we’d get much out of a second lap on the boardwalk. But then again, Sarah never did get that bear…
