Pretties, being here takes something of a strong stomach. Not only have we had to restrain ourself from vomiting into the bushes outside of the Thomas Kincaide Gallery, but we've also discovered a new form of aesthetic hell: the Koffman Galleries. The 'gallery' features all of the following prints and paintings:

+ Martini olives wearing tuxedos

+ A grapevine made of purple golf balls

+ Warholesque prints made with pictures of your dog or your car (your choice.)

+ A dancing wine bottle with the text 'Life Is A Cab-Array Of Fine Wines'.

The gallery's slogan is 'Art With A Smile' (with an underline that looks like a smile, natch), and their signage tells passersby: "We Are SO Open!"

We're dying inside, just a little.

Pretties,

As soon as we can find ourselves an internet cafe whose stations have a Compactflash drive, we'll be uploading both pictures and videos of the dozens of sea lions we saw playing, fighting, mating, swimming, barking and lounging in the sun.

You are all not prepared for Teh Cute. Seriously.

Awwwwwwwwww,

Optimuscrime

Yecch. We're sweaty, pretties.

But what a great ride! We've no idea how far we went (distances here are measured in some obscure and outdated unit of measurement called a 'mile'), but we rode past Cannery Row, made immortal by Steinbeck and then rendered soulless by the installation of outlet malls and Bubba-Gump Shrimp Company restaurants. We cycled along the coast and marvelled at the seaside architecture, wondering how many shekels we'd need to save to have our own little coastal pied-a-terre.

Okay, so we couldn't realistically live in a state that had chosen both Reagan and Arnie as governors, and the adobe, tile-roofed buildings we enthuse about are structurally unsound in the event of the inevitable Great Big Earthquake that'll reduce them all to rubble.

But still, pretties, with the sea air in our nose, it's easy to dream.

In the left-hand drawer, there is a Gideon Bible. In the right hand drawer, there is a Harlequin Super-Romance titled 'Family Secrets'.

This is the mark of a Really Classy Hotel.

"These were marines. Military guys, West Point graduates, veterans of the war with Mexico. But for entertainment, they'd put on Shakespeare, half of the company dressed as women. The navy was different back then."

- Our tour guide at the first theatre in Monterey, commenting on a mid-19th century theatre troop.