Carmel

I get the feeling that Carmel is quite well-heeled. After we'd found our Inn, which looked out onto the Pacific, we made our way along the beach and into the bustling village. There were already fire pits being dug on the beach as people prepared for an evening around the campfire, but it was the yacht party that caught my attention.

I say yacht, but it was something with multiple decks and a enough people travelling to mean that they could decide to come to the beach for a small soiree. And that would be with a local chef. And tables. Maybe some music. And a P.A. system so that everyone could hear properly.

Then into the town. A Ferrari flicked noisily past us. Then another one. Both red. The third one was a few minutes later, but driven by an owner who didn't feel the need to rev it continuously. Still red though, although the Lamborghini a few seconds later was bright yellow.

We carried on our walk towards a lovely French restaurant but were struck with the notion that there was something unusual about this town.

Later, before we headed back, we stopped at Doris Day's pretty Inn, which is a well known landmark in the middle of town. We'd still need to visit Clint Eastwood's ranch, but that would need to be tomorrow.