A few years back an old boyfriend and I set off for one of our excursions that eventually ended in complete disaster. I say disaster because on one trip his transaxle blew up while stuck in four-wheel drive barreling down Mt. Hood. Disaster again almost struck as we were driving home from the Seafood and Wine festival after a desperate search over washed out highways through town after small town for gasoline. Seems the flood cause a lot of places to close up shop and go home to sandbag their homes. So again I trek so lightly into the road trip world with a man; again I put my toes into the water and add another trip with Dr. B. The trip to SF wasn’t a disaster nor was our impromptu trip to nowhere in particular. So here try again; avert your eyes as the tale unfolds.

There’s a difference between the type of traveling I’ve done and the type of traveling Dr. B has done. He is a tourist; I’m a person who may have driven through a town and possibly eaten at the local Salvation Army. I very often arrive in a town and vaguely remember being there at one time or another, Dr. B on the other hands has pictures to prove it. Dr. B has pictures of all the tourist attractions and wholly appreciates each and every cheesy tourist activity that can be found. He stops at all the viewpoints along the highway to appreciate the view and read the historical significance of such a spot. Me? I’ve always a considered travel to be about the destination and rarely the journey. The journey scares me, the journey is unpredictable, something that I know all too well. Leaving home one day never to return; I hope to get over this some day. Until then, its an eccentricity that one can only love me for.

Without further adieu here is Chantel being a tourist to the degree that we could have never anticipated. Like a sideshow for one of the very first times in her traveling life. She lets her guard down and becomes a willing participant in the spectacle that is tourism.

The wine festival now comes complete with Pirate hats and Mardi Gras beads. All of which I embraced tentatively until the 3rd glass of wine. After said wine I allowed stickers to adorn my face and participate in group cheers as random wine glasses fell to the ground.

What’s this you ask? This is Chantel striking a pose for Dr. B in darkened Newport Wax Works Wax Museum. Sexy yes? Is there any way possible for Dr. B & Chantel to get frisky? No! Too many children. Note: Boring light flashing above Chantel’s head does not denote love style. I’m a passionate lover and this chair is wrong, wrong, wrong.

I’m sure Pocahontas and Mr. Smith really were interested in my antics. However, they couldn’t express it due to the large quantities of botox they’ve been injecting into their wax faces lately.

Dr. B drives like a bat out of hell but still manages to find every cheesy photo opporunity at a 100 miles an hour. Much like this one that required a u-turn on Highway 101. I surfed in cowboy boots, don’t you worry. Your girl is talented.

As far as the anxiety goes, it was OK but not great. I awoke each night we were there to thunderous fighting in the hotel room upstairs or, to others walking by our ground level hotel room. I’m thinking of starting a photo set entitled, “All the Skanky Hotel Rooms Chantel has Habitated” Unfortunately for the entire weekend, the fighting would wake me from a dead sleep where I would lie scared for a few minutes until I regained some sense of myself and attempt to cover my ears with a tiny pillow thin enough to put on a sandwich and call cheese. Affording better hotel rooms could be accomplished if you used the donate button on the links on my sidebar.  Thanks and, much love.

I spent a lot of time photographing all that is wonderful on the Oregon Coast of course, there will be more photos available on my flickr page as I edit and post.  OH! And, the wine festival has turned into a crazy frat party instead of the hauty event I’ve been aquainted with in the past. Just in case you didn’t notice from the photos. When in Rome……