I was 18 when I traveled to California for the first time. I had never been farther west than Atlanta, Georgia, so it felt extra special to see the Pacific Ocean for the first time. I visited La Jolla and San Diego with my youth group and had the best time in the SoCal sunshine.
I was 22 when I traveled to California for the second time to attend a conference in San Francisco. I fell in love with the City by the Bay. I couldn’t tell you much about the conference, but I still remember my first time strolling through Chinatown and the beautiful view of the city from Alcatraz Island.
Eight years ago, Brandon and I kicked off our 50 in 5 travels with a road trip up the Pacific Coast Highway from Los Angeles to Oakland. I had dreamed of visiting Big Sur, and was thrilled to surprise Brandon with the trip to celebrate his college graduate and five years of marriage. Multiple rockslides, an infected wisdom tooth, and sniffly colds did nothing to stop us from enjoying one of our favorite trips of all time.
I’ve returned on many other occasions: once to spend my step-daughter’s spring break in Los Angeles and several times for visits with my best friend and her family, who live in San Francisco. On my latest trip, I cozied up for a three day solo stay in the coastal town of Pacifica.
In short, I can’t stay away. California is unfamiliar and exciting, compared to any part of my life in North Carolina. I’ve often heard the expression that the West Coast is the best coast. Maybe they’re onto something. Something tells me I’ll be loving California forever.
