Golf Fans Sighted: AT&T Under Way

After my early morning swim I started to see them.  Yes it's true, golf fans are peeking out from behind signposts and over steering wheels, looking for arrows pointing the way to shuttle bus stops.  There is very limited private vehicle access to Pebble Beach.  The intrepid fans who are bound and determined to see early morning golf action are everywhere.

For intstance, I spotted a cluster of fans - men all dressed in requisite Docker pants, knit shirts and vests and the usual black baseball caps - walking along Foam Street examining store fronts together.  It was an odd thing to see at 7:30 in the morning.  It's not a street tourists usually stroll down for any reason and looks utilitarian at best. I can't say I really know what they were doing in that part of town at that early hour, but they looked harmless, curious, excited.  Just a little off course.

Locals who have been volunteering at the tournament for years ever since it was called The Crosby are talking about what it was like to do various jobs from year to year, and they're feeling quite a bit of nostalgia.  The tournament has been around long enough that people mark phases of their lives with it.  Most begin volunteering when they are teens in high school and continue on when they can.  It's usually the best way for them to see the action as well as behind the scenes.  I recall friends of mine in high school who used to carry leader boards when they were high school students, especially boys who were on the golf team.  It was quite a plum job and earned them bragging rights.

Today was the first day of play, which will continue on until Sunday.  We'll see if this fine weather holds.  So far it has been spectacular and a huge contrast to two years ago when the event was rained out  in spite of heroic efforts by greenskeepers to squeegee off greens and provide shelter for fans and players.  It was awful.

As a matter of fact, with Valentine's Day coming up, the AT&T in full swing (oops, pun), and gorgeous weather shining in every direction, folks are getting a little giddy around here.  A fine state of affairs for everyone.

People Watching at Pebble

I was unable to post yesterday due to technical difficulties which have been surmounted, so here I am once more, intrepid blogger that I am.

In the middle of this week, we will begin play on the AT&T Pro-Am Golf Tournament over in Pebble Beach as well as two other courses.  Locals call the whole kaboodle Pebble Beach, so you may as well do the same.  Everything within the confines of the smartly guarded gates of Del Monte Forest is referred to as Pebble Beach, including Spanish Bay, Monterey Peninsula Country Club course, Spyglass Hill, Cypress Point, Poppy Hills and of course Pebble Beach itself.  Just like every country in Africa is called Africa by Americans.  We are just so odd that way.  Just lump it all into one and call it Pebble Beach, and you're good.

So, back to Pebble Beach.  The pros have been doing practice rounds to get used to the various courses and adjust to wind, sun, lack of snow and deer wandering around on the greens.  Up until today the weather has been summer-like and stunningly perfect.  Just to put a scare into the hearts of organizers, the weather is changing; it's blustery and much cooler outside.  Whitecaps are dancing across the waters of the bay like charging herds of sheep.  Or maybe like dolphins.  Dolphins are fast, but sheep are white, so I'm going with sheep.  Fast sheep.  There is a gusting wind from the northwest that is spanking flags out to horizontal on their posts, which should make tee shots be rather unpredictable at times for the golfers.

It is said that Bill Murray is in fine form this year and ready to play ball.  Always a fan favorite, galleries lean in close to overhear his quips and try for autographs.  Local boy and one of Pebble's august owners, Clint Eastwood may show his face here or there.  He and his friends are usually busy with guests and duties, but he may make some official appearances if he's in town.  Other fairly recognizable celebrities are signed up to start play on Thursday.  Most take the game very seriously, even clowns like Mr. Murray, and do their best to put on a sporting show for the galleries.  Fans often try to spot Mr. Eastwood at The Hogs Breath Inn in Carmel, but they'd have better luck in the evening down at Old Mission Ranch in the lounge where jazz musicians gather after hours.  Mr. Eastwood is a long-time fan of jazz and tasteful tunes, and he is more often seen there (he owns the Inn, by the way) than anywhere else.

Have fun exploring the Peninsula if you're here for the tournament - or any other time for that matter.  Carmel will be dense with fans once the rounds are done for the day, but relaxing, eye-catching beauty is rampant here this time of year, so almost anywhere you go will feel like a really great idea.  Just watch your hat.  That wind is tricky.

Cuisine and Romance: Roy's at Spanish Bay

In a state of self-indulgence, we took ourselves out for a very special dinner at Roy's in Pebble Beach this evening.   It was our anniversary, after all, and what better reason to break the bank than love?

We were seated by a window at a table for two and were presented with a menu specially printed with anniversary wishes, a very nice touch.  The staff greeted us and showered us with happiness and salutations.  We smiled and loved it all.  Then, as hoped, the sky presented us with a glorious sunset filled with gold, scarlet and dramatic clouds.  Surfers beyond the Spanish Bay links were catching beautiful curling waves in an unusually consistent set of breakers.  At about 6:30 the traditional bagpiper played for everyone outside on the patio that extends out to the links beyond the restaurant and hotel.  It's not required, by the way, to pay to hear him play.  One of the most romantic and unique experiences one can have on the Peninsula is to include sunset over crashing surf and bagpipes playing.  Of course, a drink and a bite to eat out there is even better.  

We had quail with mango chutney as well as kobe tataki for starters and then moved on to a complicated tower of various things comprising a delicious salad.  Edamame kept us busy as a complimentary nibbler dish, welcome change from bread or chips.

Roy's specializes in Pacific Rim cuisine with many island touches including bequeathing shell leis to celebrants like us.  Main courses consisted of sea bass with crab crust on swiss chard and seared ahi tuna, wasabi sauce, ginger and bok choy.  Dessert rounded us out - literally - with a plate of homemade cookies from the dessert chef and pineapple compote with coconut ice cream set in a small cup of crisp pastry, served with coffee.

Dinner was special, just as we knew it would be.  Roy's has a fine reputation for gracious service, a very romantic setting on Spanish Bay, and inventive foods made with products from the sea right out there beyond the window as well as the agricultural riches from all around the county.

Love was the theme of the evening, for obvious reasons, but was also felt in the staff's gracious attitude and intelligent presentation of very good food.  That special ingredient elevated the evening and added a rare serendipity that good restaurants make look effortless.  Cheers!  

Love Cars? Come to Monterey

This is it, the big cars-are-everything week on the Monterey Peninsula. It includes everything from exotic car auctions at Portola Plaza in downtown Monterey to the Concours d'Elegance at Pebble Beach where cars of exquisitely rare marques are rolled down the 18th green to the ooohs and aaaahs of hundreds of onlookers.

This is the most rarefied of all precious atmospheres that this region hangs its hat on - and there are many - including an all-Italian sports car display of vast proportions, a scenic car tour, historic car races at Laguna Seca and the piece de resistance, the Concours.  In spite of the immense wealth required to own and show even one of the automobiles (and some owners are here with a truckload of them), shuffling crowds of ordinary folk are invited to join in the oogling at certain venues for free.

Pacific Grove will host one of the most accessible aspects of all, that being a driving tour that begins with all entrants parking up and down Lighthouse Avenue with owners buffing and shining their precious steeds, answering questions and posing for pictures.  At a predetermined time, the engines roar to life and cars line up for the beginning of a tour of regions of the downtown area and coast.  Like a similar lineup in Carmel, the cars entered must be road worthy and able to drive on surface roads.  Spectators pick out key spots, usually with spectacular vistas to enjoy beyond the cars.

Whether you love the yesteryear elegance and chrome-laden designs of big monsters like Rolls Royces or dirt track wonders like Hudson Hornets, you can be sure that at least one car somewhere on the Peninsula this week will turn your head and quicken your heart.  I'm rather crazy for Cobras; love the sound of them.  

The featured marque (brand to the rest of us) at Pebble Beach this year is the Alfa Romeo.  Every year, the entire peninsula is crazy with cars, and they are everywhere, usually driving in touring groups.  You'll see a line of Vipers or a few Ferraris zooming up hills in the forest or a scattering of Jaguars or late model Chevys too cool to ignore.  Every single one of them has been lavished attention and money, the object of fascination and desire of an owner for years, some of them passed down from parent to child and with quirky histories attached.

I'll keep you posted on "sightings" and events.  It's fun, mostly because the expense and attention associated with this hobby is light years beyond me, all fantasy, and no stress to enjoy at all in my part, or yours.

Carmel-by-the-Sea: One Piece of the Peninsula's Pie

Carmel is the most densely built city on the Monterey Peninsula.  Multi-million dollar homes stand nearly touching, and yet each one is uniquely quaint or charming or grand or spectacular in some definitive way.  Because there is so much attention paid to the esthetic appeal of homes by their owners, there are more tradesmen and workingmen's trucks parked along streets than in any other city on the Peninsula.  Everyone is busy, up to their ears in the effort to maintain the now elite but formerly bohemian community that was started by artists escaping conformity and restriction.  Whereas artists once felt unable to abide building codes imposed by cities where they'd come from, now Carmel has become ultra elite in its effort to maintain its status as perfect and precious.

If you live in the city proper's 93921 zip code area, you don't have a street address like 142 Lincoln Street;  you have a description of where your home is generally found.  For instance:  Lincoln, between 3rd and 4th, third house on the right.  Your home has a name like Eiderdown or Peek-A-Boo or Sea Breeze.  Your home was designed by an architect, possibly a nationally prominent one, and it somehow distinguishes itself by virtue of expensive features and elements that sometimes defy description or categorization.  Certainly, real estate asking prices are not for the financially faint of heart.  

If you are a Carmelite, as you call yourself, you probably have vehement discussions about the trees overhanging your yard, the fence lines of your property, the color of your house and the amount of space your cars may or may not be taking up on the street.  There are no sidewalks and there is no post office delivery so you pick up your mail at the post office in town, but you make it a social event and spend time chatting about your dog or your massage therapist or your psychiatrist while you sip a latte or chai tea drink.  You most likely have at least one pedigreed dog for which you have probably paid over $1,000, and if you don't, you are planning to. You drive a BMW or Mercedes or maybe a Prius. You know where your neighbors and friends went to college and where their children attended college and you mention the names of the colleges as if they are equivalent to a pedigree.  You are a little bit fussy, a little bit eccentric and you expect things to get done when you want them to be done and expect attention to be paid to you when you are not feeling well or happy.  

Outside of Carmel-by-the-Sea is the rest of the Peninsula.  Then there's Pebble Beach, which is a gated community that is not a city at all.  It is as unique as Carmel, shall we say, but mostly because there are a zillion golf courses and golf balls zinging in every direction.  Homes and residences range from enormous McMansions built to impress passers-by, or truly grand well-designed and nicely situated compounds, all the way to surprisingly modest and ordinary ranch-style homes and post adobes.  Clint Eastwood, Peter Ueberroth and Arnold Palmer joined financial forces a few years ago, along with a number of other partners and shelled out $840 million dollars to buy Del Monte Properties, and they are now keeping it running somehow or another, the poor slobs.

On the north side of Pebble Beach is Pacific Grove where we have our own proud homes - many too expensive for the vast majority of Americans to own, but PG has a small, old-fashioned looking downtown, so it seems more within reach.  It's slow and quiet and peaceful most of the time.  There is one golf course - the city's municipal course - that costs a tenth that of green fees at Pebble Beach.  There are dogs here, too.  Most of them are rescue dogs grateful to have anything at all, much less a pedigree.  We have wind that makes us a little crazy every day, and deer that chomp our flowers as soon as we plant them.  And we have termites chewing happily on all the old historic wooden Victorian houses. We are working or retired and we shrug when a few things go wrong, but if anyone messes with our butterfly trees (where the monarch butterflies winter over), we become incensed and raise cain about it.

We think folks in Carmel are silly and they think we're boring and having nothing to do here, and we are both right.  We're all pieces in the same pie, but we find differences between ourselves for some reason.  Most of the time though, everyone is outside admiring the ocean and renewing their sense of awe at the grandeur of nature and their lucky stars for living here, however that might have happened.  Very few Groovers take it for granted.  In that one way, we are exactly like nearly everyone in every other part of the Peninsula - grateful every day to be alive, right where we are.  

Fore! US Open Golf is Coming to the Monterey Peninsula

The Peninsula is buzzing with anticipation of the coming US Open Golf Championship, to be played at Pebble Beach.  Organizers have been fretting and bustling for the past year, and now with a palpable sense of urgency are putting the final equipment, processes and volunteers in place.  Play begins Thursday.  Lots of locals are planning to be out of town as the crush of oogling fans can be overwhelming.

I don't golf, but since I live here I am virtually required to know at least something about the game. I have lost track of the number of 18-hole courses that exist in the area.  I believe there are six major courses just within the confines of Del Monte Forest:  Pebble Beach, Spyglass Hill, Poppy Hills, Cypress, Del Monte Country Club, and Spanish Bay.  It's free to take a walk in The Forest as we call it.  If you go, always beware of the possibility of a golf ball whistling by no matter where you are, so practice ducking while you walk, which is almost the same as walking like a duck.

You have to be quiet, too.  Golfers like it very quiet so they can concentrate on hitting the ball into the water traps and sand traps.  They pay a lot of money for the privilege of playing, especially if it's Pebble or Spyglass.  Do not get in their way or pretend that you matter as much as their game does.  You don't, at least not while they're playing.  Green fees are upwards of $300 a round on the most famous courses.  Players are listening to the cha-ching of cash registers in their minds as they make their way around the course, and rightfully so.  But, the sacred ground of Pebble is worth it to many, so they pay up.

The US Open is one of the biggest tournaments in the universe of golf; Pebble had to bid on it what seemed like 18 years ago.  Bidders compete ferociously for the right to host the tournament.  The last time it was held here (2002?) Tiger Woods won by something like 13 strokes over the nearest golfer.  That's kind of the equivalent of winning the mile run by a whole lap.  He made the other golfers look like they'd been hitting their drives with the back of their clubs.  This year there will be other wonderful athletes in expensive clothes labeled with Nike swooshes who will be mobbed by quiet respectful golf fans.  

The golf course itself has been redesigned to make it even more challenging.  I think they've added an island offshore which is where the 19th hole will be located.  Otters trained to catch golf balls are forming little flotillas offshore, posted there by the Monterey Bay Aquarium, where they have been raised since puphood.  They'll be wearing specially designed golf caps with the Pebble Beach logo on them.  This is planned as a special feature of this course this year.  Tour organizers are hopeful that the trend will spread to other tournaments in other parts of the country in keeping with their attempt at education outreach to young golf fans.  "We hope the otters posted offshore will show that humans and wildlife can work together to improve understanding of our ecosystem and to lessen the impact of golfballs on the local marine environment."  I understand that the most skilled otters will be throwing balls back onshore once the balls are caught.

Hoteliers are happy that their rooms will be full for an entire week at least.  There have been some well-deserved complaints about rooms being sold for exorbitant rates.  I'm happy to also note that when locals have heard of room rates being horribly expensive they have offered rooms in their own homes.  We are friendly here and we understand that not everyone is wealthy and has money to throw around.  

Shuttles are being offered to fans, and that's mostly to relieve what is normally a pretty congested commute for locals; add about 40,000 extra people to the morning and evening crush and you'd have a lot of frustrated drivers.  Without shuttles, we'd experience an extra four hours on each commute.   It's going to feel like a phone booth with 20 people in it as it is; the Peninsula is actually a small area.

I'll keep you posted on the Groove and the impact of the tournament on it.  Next time:  Those dear deer.

New In Pacific Grove

Pacific Grove is sporting some new stores along its main streets.  From one end of town to the other, along Lighthouse Avenue and up and down crossing streets, entrepreneurs are giving it a go, filling up once-empty storefronts and feeling optimistic.  

There is a fine new restaurant that's open from 4 PM to closing at the corner of Fountain and Lighthouse, occupying a corner location in the big Holman's building.  It's a French country-style place called Le Normandie whose sure hit is coq au vin, according to many.  The onion soup will send the chill right out of your bones.  This is not a place to find experimental high-priced or highfalutin Cal-Euro food. Instead long-loved classic French favorites are cooked to a delicious turn on a nightly basis.  During our currently cool and breezy weather conditions, you feel well-fortified after a meal, content, satisfied.  It opened very quietly a few months ago and is doing well by all accounts.  The owner will greet you with a smile and lovely hospitality when you go.

Further along Lighthouse Avenue, heading west toward the post office, you will notice a new venture called Carried Away that has only been open a week.  They feature ladies handbags, accessories and small items for the home.  The proprietress also owns, with her husband, Miss Trawick's Garden Shop, a popular garden and home gift shop found around and below the Red House Cafe.  Both shops are fun to browse around and chat with the owner.  Very friendly and both very pretty shops.  Guests who stay down at the Centrella Inn or at the Gosby House Inn - two popular B&Bs in town - enjoy a very short and easy stroll to find gift shops, book stores, cafes and beauty boutiques nearby.

On Forest Avenue, just down from Grove Market is a new baby supply boutique shop called Sprout Baby Boutique, filled with unusual and unique clothing and small items for people newly arrived on earth.  The shop is very small, but the owner carries a full array of hard-to-find special shoes for babies and toddlers as well as things you may only otherwise find at boutique websites online.

Forest Avenue is now lined from top to bottom with all sorts of browseable small shops, most oriented to families and locals who style themselves non-Target, small-town locals.

Pacific Grove, like the entire Monterey Peninsula is anticipating a vigorous influx of visitors who will be here for the US Open Golf Championship in June.  Trees along Lighthouse are to be lit with thousands of sparkling lights in the evening.  US flags will flutter from the lamp posts and merchants will be fully stocked.

Carmel will be impacted during the tournament with people who love to poke and wander around.  They will be rewarded with fine restaurants, cafes and enough art galleries to satisfy the most energetic and determined art collectors; there are over a hundred galleries.  However, the prices are high in Carmel and parking is at a premium.  

The new stores on Lighthouse are good signs of economic energy, and every store owner is ready to welcome you.  We may have cold air here in PG, but we have warm hearts.

Clambake Coming

Magically, it appears to be Spring today.  With the former Crosby Clambake Golf Tournament (now the AT&T Pro-Am Golf Tournament) mere days away, the organizers must be feeling like there's a joke in here somewhere.  They are much more used to horrible weather than good.  The greens keepers are masters at the art of squeegeeing  great sheets of rainwater off the greens, lashing the grandstands and tents to the ground with massive cables and ropes as well as corralling flying articles of golfers' attire that have been caught in gusting winds. 

Bing Crosby used to love to host his golf event here every winter.  (By the way, I have no idea of what exactly a "clambake" is in the real world; here it meant that the celebrities went to parties where booze flowed like water.)  The format of pairing actual touring golf professionals with amateurs including celebrities from Hollywood and making them play on spectacular courses lining a filthy-rich exclusive enclave sporting a melange of mansions, some the size of New Hampshire, was a formula initiated by Crosby and continues still. Giving profits to many local charities and nonprofits has encouraged acceptance by we non-elite residents and attendees of the event who feel a little overwhelmed by the gilded environment of Del Monte Forest. 

The downside of the whole idea was, and is, that it's held in, well, you know, winter.  So, a golfer could tee off on the 16th hole aiming at the distant fluttering flag and wind up watching his ball sail over to Carmel Beach, kind of in the opposite direction of what he thought he was aiming at. So, there's the inherent challenge of golf itself:  Tiny hard ball hit with long thin metal shaft at tiny hole beyond lakes, trees and sand pits.  At this particular event, those elements were mixed liberally with The Elements.  In other words, blustering wind at least, and possibly gales.  Also, drizzling fog - which only obscures the long view of the courses, not a problem for a happy-go-lucky celebrity - or slashing rain have been problems. Golf fans have been overheard at times:  "I saw a bird flying upside down and backwards today. "  Happens, you know. 

If today's weather holds up for the remainder of the week, the organizers of the Pro-Am will be ecstatic.  Flocks of golfing fans as well as celebrity watchers will alight in hotels all around the Peninsula and the turnstiles of Del Monte Forest will be whirring.  It's not a bad thing.  We're used to it here in The Groove.  But, rumor has it the sea otters are going to the next Chamber mixer and will be asking for higher wages for being so cute and distracting to the golfers and fans alike. 

Storm's Coming

The word's out:  There's an approaching storm, and it's gonna be a soaker, coming in slowly, heavily, from the west and south.  It's just the way nature is.  You know it's coming, taking its good old sweet time, like a fat old aunt who comes and sits on the sofa with a big heaving sigh, settling in for a long time. 

The city hangs its toes over the edge of the country's left coast with nothing but a zillion miles of blue, deep cold water between us and Foreign Lands.  As we teeter on the edge of the continent and peer to the western horizon, we see hints of weather coming, written in code by the clouds.  Just as a soothsayer gleans knowledge from the dregs of Turkish coffee in a cup, we predict what kind of trouble might lie ahead by watching clouds.  We tilt our heads, squint our eyes and look at the ocean's surface, reading the chop and swells, feeling the direction of the breeze.  Then we shuffle back to town for a stiff cup of tea.  We go indoors and stay there, out of the wind and wet, knowing that our homes are sensibly built on solid rock.  Coastal chaparral and stubby trees grow low to the ground with roots in the west and tips of branches stretching to the east, parallel to the ground, bent that way over years of abuse by the prevailing wind.  They are tough and hardy, built to endure.

On the other hand, folks in Pebble Beach (aka Del Monte Forest) prepare for storms quite differently:  They go get an extra round of golf in and then zoom home in their Benzes and Beamers.  They are a wealthy bunch, keen to remain apart from the ordinariness of the Peninsula, safe in their locked community. Better be wealthy in The Forest, 'cause trees are gonna getcha.  Those who live in "The Forest" own expensive properties filled with whippy, top-heavy Monterey pine trees that are just no damn good in high winds.  Every year their houses are smashed and flattened to a spectacular degree when the big storms hit.  The local paper always features dramatic photos of crushed cars, squashed houses and downed power lines - storm damage.  "Bob Jones of Seventeen Mile Drive in Pebble Beach views the remains of his home and car," states the photo caption.  A dismayed man wearing clothing purchased in an LL Bean catalogue stands next to a pile of splinters and distorted metal faintly resembling a structure.  There is usually a sidebar indicating how many trees crushed what number of cars and houses and, of course, how many trees went down on the various golf courses. 

PG has fewer trees.  We are more exposed to the bluster of storms and take the brunt of them before they blow over to Monterey and points beyond.  The trees left standing now are ornery and mean trees that have withstood wretched abuse; they stand around in the evening and tell their tales, spitting seeds to the ground for emphasis.

Our birds have adapted nicely to our blustery climate.  They know how to adjust to severe winds, flying backwards and upside down with a jaunty devil-may-care attitude.  Raccoons, residents of the storm drain system, find higher ground once the rain begins in earnest, but the inconvenience is short-lived for them as the town is built on a slope and the drains empty quickly to the bay. 

About three years ago, an intense storm system blew across the peninsula, and the surf was whipped to a gigantic frenzy of pounding breakers.  The lights flickered on and off for a day and a half, trees were bent sideways and all over everywhere debris and leaves littered the roadways.  Finally, as the storm relented, residents began to emerge and peer about for evidence of the storm's fury.  We drove over to Pt Pinos to have a look at the still very large storm surf, to oooh and ahhh and count ourselves lucky.  It made us feel like gritty survivors, tough and wise in some way, to look at wreckage and destruction. We'd had the good sense to live here, not in a disaster-prone region someplace else, and we had snug homes from which to gaze upon a more unfortunate world Out There Someplace.  Police yellow tape blocked our progress along Ocean View Boulevard, so we parked, got out and walked the rest of the way to the point.  The Big Blue had smashed relentlessly on the bashed-for-eons coast, overwhelming the scenic road that snakes along the perimeter of the peninsula's western face.

In that area of the city's coastline, the distance from the usual surface of the ocean is only about 10 feet below the road's surface.  Storm waves at peak high tide had thrown tons of kelp, boulders and large drift logs across the road, all the way to the nearby municipal golf course water hazard, giving new meaning to the phrase. It was dramatic and amazing and it was a mess.  Sand covered some sections of the road, with seashells, sea stars and anemones littered around.  Usually bucolic and pleasant parking areas were eroded and sections of the coastal boardwalk hung ragged and forlorn, like old laundry flapping in the wind. Waves were still in the 30-foot-high range - surfers call this double overhead - cresting wildly, then blown backward by the stiff breeze.  They looked like charging horses galloping to the beach, manes flying. This was a memorable storm, worse than usual, but that was about the extent of the damage to our coast.  Pebble Beach was without electricity for five days and could have passed for a third-world country disaster zone except for the caliber of cars flattened here and there. 

Gradually our birds came back, some with suntans after being blown all the way to Cabo, and the city righted itself pretty quickly.  Weather just does not take us down.  No sir.  I think the worst I can say about climate conditions in PG is that the air temperature now is exactly the same as it is in the summer when fog throws its wet blanket over us for the season.  It's a very steady specific weather groove, to be sure.

In a Strange Land

Pacific Grove has a couple of gems in its boundaries.  Mainly, there's Asilomar Beach State Park, way out over west there, elbow to elbow with the exclusive ghetto called Del Monte Forest.  I think you could easily say about one fourth of the habitable Monterey area (Pebble Beach, Tehama, San Carlos Rancho, Pasadera, Carmel Valley Ranch) excludes the other three fourths of its inhabitants either totally or only admits them if they hand over a wad of cash. 

Pacific Grove doesn't exclude anyone from gazing at its prettiness.  Because of that, visitors find it peaceful and tranquil and make plans to move here.  If they hand over a very large wad of cash indeed, they commence life as we know it:  Very quiet -- hushed actually -- and a bit eccentric.  Consequently, it has evolved into yet another kind of exclusionary enclave. 

A man I once knew described the little towns on the Monterey Peninsula as fiefdoms, each pointing fingers at the others and each one filled with folks who felt comforted to know that all the bad apples lived in those other towns.  A case in point:  Another man  I spoke with once said he'd moved to Pebble Beach because it was beautiful.  (It is)  He had lived in Seaside, a town that grew up next to Ft Ord catering to the needs of the Army soldiers training there.  Seaside isn't very beautiful but it has the most beautiful view of the Monterey Peninsula you'll find anywhere around here, especially on a clear moonlit night.  This man lived in Pebble Beach and no one would talk to him.  Neighbors, if they ever inhabited their homes (they could be a second or third home), drove into their garages, the doors closed and no one emerged for long periods of time.  He felt alone, existing in a strange void of not-neighborliness.  He left in disguest and went back to Seaside.  There, neighbors offered each other help and gave out their surplus vegetables to each other.  Kids played outside and life had a happy rough-and-tumble feel that he said was "a million times better than being in the Forest." 

Pacific Grove is somewhere in between.  You'll find both kinds of neighborhoods here.  Mostly, people will help you out and consider themselves unique, special, above average.  They'll share vegetables with you, but they gotta know you first.  You are not welcome until you've found your own friends and established yourself somehow.  It takes a long time.  People new to the area complain that California is unfriendly, people don't say hello, and they feel lonely.  I can see that it's true here.  It's not an attitude of blatant, obvious rejection so much as it is a strong hesitancy to venture a greeting, an approach to life and strangers that stems from self-distraction and abhorrence of chaos.  Be careful! it says.  No loud talking! especially in loud foreign languages.  Hush!  My quietude and isolation are paramount to my success in the world, and I require you not to intrude into it! I have paid a lot for the right to remain silent!  Hush!  

Pacific Grove is a pretty town, beautiful even, depending on what view you're taking in.  There is a bucolic peace here.  But, it's deceptive.  It's a twilight zone, an expensive,  even a timid one.  It sits between a cold deep bay to its north and a wealthy exclusive neighbor to its south.  East is Monterey, and I'll get to that another time.