What we did over Christmas break--Santa Barbara chapter

Mark's in the fourth grade, and anyone who lives in California knows exactly what that means -- a California Mission report. That's right, they learn all about the illustrious Father Junipero Serra and his "mission" in life.

I figured instead of just reading about the missions, we'd actually go visit one. Mark picked the Santa Barbara mission, and so, with our friend Edra in tow, we headed north.

It was a gorgeous day -- bright, sunny, and hot. The drive up the coast was gorgeous, and the air seemed crisper with each mile. We made good time, arriving at the mission shortly before noon.

The church was beautiful -- real adobe bricks with pinkish columns.



Mark posed excitedly in front with Father Serra. Then he wandered around the front path pointing and asking what everything was.




"See that over there?" I replied. "It's called a sign. It will tell you everything you need to know." He seemed genuinely surprised to learn that.

We bought tickets for a self-guided tour. It was very pretty, and very well-preserved so that you could really imagine the mission back in its heyday. We toured the gardens, the cemetery and the chapel, as well as the kitchens. We also saw a cool model of the whole mission and a bunch of tools they used for farming.

Mark seemed pretty impressed. He ran around the whole mission taking pictures with his camera. I was just glad he was interested; I was afraid we'd driven two hours to have him run through the entire mission in five minutes. But he paced himself, and really enjoyed it. He even read some of the signs, and asked about the Indians and Father Serra.




And for those of you who know me well, you'll be impressed that I practiced great restraint as far as the mission's history. I never once uttered the phrases "free labor," "indentured slaves," "forced dependence," or "His real mission was converting all the heathens." I wanted to, trust me, but I went along with the propaganda that Father Serra was kind and helpful to all those poor little Indians who couldn't possibly fend for themselves before he arrived to save them. <\rant>

Anyway, we had a good time touring the mission. Afterwards, we headed for the marina, where we enjoyed lunch overlooking both the bay and the beautiful Santa Barbara mountains.

But Mark's favorite part were the rocks in the marina, which were literally crawling with rock crabs. He counted two sea stars, and 70 (yes, 70!) little crabs skittering over the rocks.



After lunch we checked into our hotel. I was thrilled because not only was it previously named after my mom (the Hotel Virginia), it was also right across the street from the Santa Barbara Brewery. I love a good local brewpub!

The hotel was half a block from the main drag, State Street. We decided to check it out, and as we rounded the corner, we were delighted to see the street had been blocked off and overtaken by a farmer's market. So even though we'd just finished lunch, we wandered around sampling all sorts of wonderful local delicacies. We also made our way through the stores, including a spiffy outdoor Indian market and my favorite, an Italian pottery shop.

Edra had read about a fondue restaurant and suggested we skip dinner in favor of dessert there. Mark and I were all for that plan, so we headed over there. Unfortunately, they were short-staffed, which meant an hour long wait for a table.

Poor Mark, who eats like a horse, couldn't make it that long without sustenance. We found a little outdoor cafe and fed him dinner and his mood improved instantly.

The fondue was fantastic! We ordered a pot of melted milk chocolate and actually gasped aloud at the plates accompanying it. They were loaded with sliced bananas and strawberries (my favorite), brownie bites, rice krispie treats, cheesecake and graham-cracker covered marshmallows. My brain started smoking when I tried adding up the carbs for Mark -- I finally told him, "Just bolus for 100 carbs," and vowed to check his blood sugar in two hours.

By the time we rolled back into the hotel, we were full, exhausted and completely happy.

When we awoke the next morning, we were glad we visited the mission when we did. A gentle rain was falling outside, so we picked an indoor activity -- visiting the Museum of Art.

It was a lovely little museum. A roomful of ancient marble statues greeted us. We passed through there to a room of paintings. I was amazed to see some really notable names in there -- a Chagall among them. Mark raced through the room with a cursory glance, and bolted for the next room.

I reigned him back -- he's a very hands-on boy, and I didn't want him knocking anything down. Edra and I imparted everything we knew about art on him. First Edra explained how the pictures look different depending on where you stand. She had him look close up and then slowly walk back away from it. We pointed out the different layers of paint on the pictures -- some had thick, thick layers while others had thin coatings. And when I saw works from my very favorite painting, Monet, I shared a story about him.

Mark listened intently as first, but then his eyes started glazing over. Another woman walked by with her two kids, also explaining about the pictures.

"See," I said, prodding Mark. "You're not the only kid learning about stuff." He just rolled his eyes at me.

We spent almost three hours in there. Mark's favorite part was the gift store, where he spent 45 minutes playing with little mechanical wind up toys.

It was getting late, so we he headed back home. We'd only been gone a day, but we packed so much fun in, it felt like much longer. We returned home with new Mission facts, tons of pictures, good memories, and a vow to return soon to partake in Santa Barbara's magical beauty once again.