Calistoga Field Trip

I was born in the Napa Valley. (Yes, as in snooty-falooty "Nah-pah, dah-ling.") And though I grew up in a neighboring village, I spent quite a bit of time out in the valley at various church and social activities during my childhood and teen years. (Think: cars full of teen friends driving down a dark highway verrrrry fast with the windows rolled down, howling at the moon on their way to dancing activities and Denny's for french fries dipped in strawberry milkshakes... yum!)


You never value what you grow up with while you're doing the growing. 

That's really my point. Well. For now.

You take it for granted. Childhood, that is.

SO.

Imagine my surprise, when I moved away, at learning just how much EVERYOOOOONE else and their dog loved the San Francisco bay area, especially Nah-pah and the surrounding area.
I mean, I knew it was pretty, but pretty much could care less.

Ya know?

When I moved back here three years ago, I made sure to go on expeditions back in the Napa hills and reacquaint myself with my old stomping grounds. But I really haven't gone back since.

Until last weekend. It was time. I hit the road, fully intending to go hiking at Point Reyes along the beach.

But.

Instead.

I turned left. 
Because I felt like it. And isn't that really the only reason for a thirty-year old single woman with time on her hands and a full tank of gas to do something fun? I think yes. (Narcissism is mandatory on pointless, spur-of-the-moment expeditions, you know.)

And I went out towards Napa. And at a loooooooooong stop light I googled hiking places in the Napa hills and ended up driving along lovely highway 29, out past Napa. Through St. Helena and Oakville and Yountville. Right on to Calistoga.

And let me tell you, I could have done just the drive alone and been a happy camper. Gorgeous! Stunning! Breathtaking! I sure don't drink, but I LOVE me some wine country.

I stopped at two fabulous places on my drive: Oakville Grocery, where I had the (hands-down) best sandwich I've ever eaten in my life. Truly. When you're out that way be sure to stop for the Roasted Chicken and Gruyere panini. It changed my life. Okay, just kidding. But sandwiches will never be the same again.

Lunch. Check. Delicious. Check.

Hike. Fun!

I am an accident-prone girl.

It was a good bleeder. Not serious. Patched it up with Neosporin and a bandage. 

Nothing like hike triage.

Seriously cool and not-shy lizard.

The tree in the middle is my favorite.

After my hike I stopped in at my first Dean and Delucca in Sonoma. What an experience.
Okay.
I live literally a block away from a Whole Foods Market.
Soooo... Dean and Delucca just seemed like a slightly posher version of a Whole Foods. It didn't exactly live up to the Felicity-hype that I thought it would. And the people in it!  

Holy funny circus, Batman:

It started in the parking lot. I hopped out of my cute Jeep. Bandana on head, hair in two messy, post-hike braids, wearing a sweaty t-shirt and cargo shorts coated in fresh blood from my knee injury. As I'm walking into the store, I walk past a couple exiting their Mercedes and the woman looked me up and down with disdain. I just smiled at her and went into the store. The kind of smile that was really me laughing at her because of how silly she was. Dare I call it a smirk? Yes.  

Because, really, pretentious people deserve nothing more than just to be laughed at.

And then inside! Oh! A store full of frenetic people trying to convince themselves that they beloooong in that yuppy store, dahhhhling! I walked around with my face all scrunched up as I observed silly human behavior.

And then I was distracted by the pastry counter. Like any good girl ought to be.

 


I have a ridiculously demanding sweet tooth. Normally I only feed it sugar on Fridays. But there are exceptions, such as this particular Saturday. Because clearly a trip to Napa (and the afforementioned pastry counter) was an exception to the no-sugar rule, I couldn't resist buying two things: A petit Gateau to rival any desert at the Cheesecake factory, and a brownie concoction that was actually a shortbread cookie covered in vanilla custard and topped in hardened chocolate. DEEEE-vine! I was seriously sugar high driving home. And for the rest of the day after, as I fed my inner sugar-monster bites of the day's take over a video-type time lapsed blur (in my mind). Yum.

Go to Napa, people. Better yet, go to Calistoga, Yountville, Sonoma. Explore Northern California's wine country. It's gorgeous. Eat. Hike. Drive. (But obviously don't Drink. Drive.)

And maybe you'll figure out for yourself why the region inspires the overly-voweled use of the word darling.