San Diego: The Final Chapter

And now, my fans, the moment you have all been waiting for. The end of our coastal journey to San Diego and back. (And by "fans" I am referring to my mom, a handful of friends and my husband, sometimes. He is a very busy man.)

In a nutshell, THE DRIVE HOME SUCKED!!!

We left San Diego at around 10:30 in the morning for what should have been about a 4 hour drive to the Danish town of Solvang, CA. However, we did not arrive at our destination until 6:30 that evening. This is thanks in part to Southern California traffic, a bathroom break and a lunch stop at a Chili's in Carson, CA where, based on the service, was clearly run by drunk, blind, monkeys.

Despite the fact that it was late and we were starving, we insisted on doing the one thing we wanted to do when we left San Diego: get to our hotel, unpack the car and take a dip in the pool. A pool that, turns out, was not as family friendly as our experience at the Madonna Inn. The pool was in the center of the hotel and surrounded by outdoor patios that hotel guests could sit on and enjoy a glass of wine. I'm referring specifically to one young couple in particular. I remember looking up at them and thinking, "They have the right idea. Cool evening. A nice bottle of Pinot." And then my thought was interrupted by the sound of the rest of our troop heading out the the pool. There was splashing, and yelling, playing and general disturbing the peace.

It was so romantic.

And then, Madison took a pretty good fall, bumping her head with a loud "THWACK" on the tiled ground surrounding the pool and thus began a fit of screaming that lasted several migraine-inducing minutes. Poor little thing. This was about the time the couple retreated inside and I thought to myself, "It appears we have become one of those families." And I am also guessing ensured that they would be using a second method of birth control that evening. You're welcome.

Now, my Grandpa, Frank Andersen (with an S-E-N), is Danish. While he was born here, his parents were from Denmark. He grew up in Wisconsin in a Danish community but lived here during a time where it was more important to assimilate to American culture so he never really spoke Danish. He then moved to California and married my Grandma whose ethnic background consists of about 14 billion different European counties. Since my Grandpa is 100% Danish, my dad is half making me one quarter. Although it is just one quarter, it is the most I am of anything. Growing up, my only real experience with the culture was through a few dishes he would make. One was Liverpaste that I thought smelled (and was) cat food so as a kid I refused to touch it. My Grandpa hasn't made it in years and I would die to try some now as an adult.

At thanksgiving (or anytime the whole family was together) he would make us Danish Pancakes which are thin crepe-like pancakes filled with jams and sweetened cream cheese. Or plain with butter and syrup, like I liked them. And every Christmas he makes a huge batch of fried Kleiner cookies. He packages them up in holiday tins and sends them off to all 4 of his sons. They last about 20 minutes in the house when them arrive. They are just that good.

Being that Solvang is a replica of a little Danish town I couldn't help feel like I was getting back to my roots. You know! A chance to be with my people! Who are, apparently, a lot of Asian tourists.

One of Denmark's more famous dishes is the aebleskiver. Little round balls of pancakey goodness. The first time I ever had on of these things was in Solvang a few years ago. I guess my Grandpa used to make these little treats for my dad and his brothers growing up but my dad never seemed to want to carry on the tradition with my sister and I. My dad is a more savory breakfast fan and doesn't "like" pancakes or some crap like that. I don't get it either. But in his defense, the man can make a mean over-easy egg. Well, I am glad I discovered them in adulthood because they are divine.

Aside from being a Danish village, another little piece of my heart will always belong to Solvang. You see, in high school, I was in show choir. Yes, that's right, I was basically in the late nineties version of Glee. Grant was in it too. And while I never got a slushy to the face or faked being pregnant with his baby, we did go on tour. One of our stops was always Solvang where we would go into the candy and fudge shop and sing for free samples. Interestingly enough, after breakfast, we actually ran into someone who happened to be in town for a wedding who used to sing in show choir with us. Coincidence? Or perhaps it was fate telling us to sing for the fudge once again!!! Since I preferred to not get arrested that day, we bought the fudge like normal human beings.

And then we headed home and left vacation behind us. I think I was most impressed with my son. Charlie was a trooper and despite being taken in and out of the car every day, sometimes several time a day, and never being in the same place to sleep for more than three nights, he slept and ate like a champ. Upon our return home, we even found a couple new teeth in there. A teething baby and an enjoyable vacation? That's really all this mom could have asked for.