Home from paradise

Well, I don't know if San Diego is really paradise, but it's a very nice place. And staying at an upscale hotel with my sister, and getting to go to three Giants baseball games (all of which they lost), no family member (i.e., twins and Rocket Boy) complaining, and seeing an old friend from grad school, and having wonderful meals (outside the ballpark), and going for walks along the water... let's just say it was very very nice. An added bonus was getting to see Matt Williams, former Giants player and now Padres 3rd base coach. He's in this picture, very tiny, looking silly in his "City Connect" uniform. I spent a lot of time imitating his hand signals (which we were not sure the runners were even looking at).

I'm trying to think of anything I would have changed and not coming up with much. 

• I would have brought my orange t-shirt to wear to a game (I forgot until the last minute that I should bring Giants gear along -- not that I have any, but I do have a pale orange t-shirt). 
• And maybe done a little research on the players, all of whom were completely unfamiliar to me. 
• Oh, and I should have remembered to shave my underarms. Most of the time these days I forget that I even HAVE underarms, but when you go through security at the airport you have to lift your arms, and also when you're doing the wave at a baseball game.
  

But other than that? I was happy with everything else I packed -- my clothes were fine (other than not being Giants-themed), I had about the right number and style and weight, etc. I took the bus to the airport on Friday and got there in plenty of time. Nancy's flight got in before mine, so she waited for me and we took a Lyft from the airport to the hotel, so there was no need to rent a car. On Monday we took a Lyft to the airport and got there in plenty of time (her flight to San Jose left before mine). 

I thought I hadn't brought enough cash, but since they don't accept cash for anything at the ballpark, I actually had more than enough.

Sharing a room with my sister worked out well. We're different in many ways, but similar in others. We both did Wordle every day, and she introduced me to Connections (we both agreed that we don't want to subscribe to the New York Times "Games" section, not because of the money, but because we don't want to spend more time playing online games!). We both texted our families constantly and reported on what they said (I texted Rocket Boy and the twins; she texted her husband and our niece). We both brought hardback books to read in bed (Pigs in Heaven by Barbara Kingsolver for me and Three Bags Full by Leonie Swann for her -- which I have already requested from our library). We went to bed pretty early each night -- I was trying to stay on Colorado time, and she just likes to go to bed early. I took my showers at night; she took hers in the morning after working out in the hotel exercise room. I didn't join her in the exercise room, but I attempted to swim in the (very shallow) hotel pool on Saturday night (a failure). The most fun exercise we did was walking. On Saturday we walked along the harbor with my friend Betty and on Sunday after the game we walked 1.25 miles to a restaurant and back again.

Meals were great: Each morning we ate breakfast in the hotel restaurant and each day I had a Chai tea latte and wonderful oatmeal with all kinds of interesting things in it. Each day the pattern was different. That's pistachios, dried hibiscus, cocoa nibs, and coconut sugar on the right, goji berries and turmeric on the left, plus an extra slash of turmeric at the top. 

My sister had something different every day, because she eats oatmeal for breakfast at home. But one of my joys of travel is having oatmeal in restaurants.

That oatmeal cost $13, by the way. But everything is so expensive now, it's starting to not make sense. And who am I to criticize -- I don't know how much all those funny little ingredients cost.

Hmm.

I ate two lunches in airports, on Friday and Monday (I had the same thing both days, a plain bagel with cream cheese, toasted, from Einstein's Bagels). Sunday we ate at the ballpark: I had a hot dog and Nancy had a pretzel and ice cream. But Saturday we were picked up by my friend Betty, who lives in San Diego, and taken to a delightful Mexican restaurant on the water, called Miguel's Cocina.

When Betty asked me what type of food I would like to eat, I said "something soft" because of my braces. Miguel's had four different kinds of enchiladas to choose from and I almost couldn't decide between the Enchiladas Suizas and the Black Bean & Corn Enchiladas. I asked the server for a recommendation and she said she loves the Suiza sauce, so I went with that, even though it was chicken. It was so delicious, I ate every bite. If I ever go back, I could try the other one. 

While waiting for a table, we walked along the harbor for about 15 minutes, and afterwards Betty drove us to a quieter spot where we could also walk along the water and talk. We had a great many things to talk about, and I thought of all sorts of other things later that I'd forgotten to bring up. But fortunately we did manage to tell Betty about the girl in my freshman year dorm at UC Davis (1978-79) named Sharon Blaha, whose name on sign-up sheets in the dorm was always altered to read "Sharon Blahahahahahaha" by persons unknown. It was apparently really important that we share that with Betty. We all laughed hysterically. Poor Sharon Blaha, how can I still be laughing about that after 45 years?

I'm laughing as I type.

And then there were the dinners. The night we got there, Friday, we had to go to a sort of Welcome Reception for the group we were a part of, before the game. Our tickets and hotel reservation were part of a package that Nancy found, called Giants Vacations, and that first night we could have met all the other people in the group -- except that we were very late, because my plane was an hour late. So we got to the reception when it was almost over. But we did meet a few people and received Giants shirts and lanyards, and ate dinner: salmon, tortillas, beans, guacamole, that sort of thing. Later we sat near the other people at all the games, so we talked to a few of them over the three days. I think I was the only person who had come from outside California (which makes sense, since this was supposed to be a group of Giants fans). The woman running the tour was sure she knew me from somewhere and this has been bothering me ever since, because she looked familiar too. You know, it could be anything. Maybe she was a student in a class I taught at Michigan a million years ago. Maybe we were in Weight Watchers together. I just don't know.

Saturday night we'd had that big lunch with Betty, so we just ate snacks at the ballpark: ice cream, Cracker Jack, a pretzel.

Sunday, after the disappointing day game, we had to think of a place to have dinner. We'd already had Mexican food, so the other obvious choice in San Diego would be seafood. We were looking at our phones for seafood restaurants when Nancy remembered that there is a Fish Market in San Diego! And it was only a little over a mile from our hotel. "Why don't we walk there?" I suggested, but Nancy hesitated. "Can you walk that far?" she asked. Fortunately, since I've been using the "Map My Walk" app on my phone at home, I knew that I could. "That's the length of my usual walk," I told her, so we set out.

It was a little bit rough going on the way there, because a strong wind was blowing and I think it might have been just slightly uphill, plus my left foot kept hurting. But I knew I could do it and I did. When we arrived they said the wait was 40 minutes, but that was fine with us, because it was only about 5:30. We sat on a bench outside to wait, and I think they actually called us in about 20 minutes, not 40. Maybe 30. Anyway, it was fine. And oh, the food. I'm not really a foodie -- OK, I'll start over. I'm not a foodie. I just don't pay that much attention to what I eat. Left to my own devices, I'd live mostly on cereal and muffins. But swordfish at the Fish Market... and the bread and butter... and the iced tea... and the strawberry shortcake I had for dessert... My taste buds were in heaven. It was really really good.

Walking back was much easier. I think it must have been slightly downhill. Or I was inspired by the memory of that dinner?

Several things struck me about San Diego. First of all, the weather! We were right by the water, so there was fog, but it never got cold. It didn't get cold at night, and it didn't get cold during the day when the clouds covered the sun. I would look at the weather forecast and it would say things like: "High 71, Low 68." Every day! There was almost no difference between night and day, high and low. All the same. It was never too hot -- except possibly at that Sunday day game -- and never cold at all. I had brought a sweatshirt, but I certainly didn't need it. I didn't wear sleeves the whole weekend.

The second thing I kept thinking about was how safe and clean everything seemed -- where we were, in the Gaslamp District, which is the touristy area. Nancy and I walked back from the restaurant around 8 pm Sunday night, and it was getting pretty dark, but I never felt even slightly worried. No homeless people, no shady people, no scary people. No trash. No encampments.

It was lovely -- but I kept wondering, WHERE ARE THEY? Because of course they had to be somewhere. It wouldn't make sense for a big city in southern California to have no homeless people. And in fact Betty said that when she was coming to pick us up, she took an exit that led her by a huge encampment. So they're here. San Diego just does a really good job of hiding them, of keeping them away from the tourists.

I'm not going to lie and say that made me unhappy. It was wonderful to be able to wander around and not have to worry about danger. But is hiding the homeless really the way to deal with the problem? I don't know.

I do know that when I have to interact with "unhoused" people on a regular basis, as I do if I go to downtown Boulder -- or any big city other than San Diego -- I tend to get angry at them. Why do you have to be so dirty and nasty, I think to myself. Why don't you go back where you came from? (You always assume that "where they came from" is somewhere other than where they are, because how could anyone from here end up looking like that?) Go back to Alabama, I think, because once there were some homeless people here from I think Alabama who accidentally set a small forest fire because they didn't understand how quickly fires spread out here. But you know, they're not all from Alabama. Some of them are from here.

I know they say out of sight out of mind, but really, having the homeless people out of sight in San Diego somehow caused them to be on my mind almost constantly.

I want there to be no homeless people, I want everybody's city or town to be full of happy people, not miserable people. But that's not how things are.

Finally, and I guess this isn't a thought about San Diego, but about the trip in general, it was so fun to be with my sister and I felt so lucky to have a sister who I can travel with. We agreed that we mustn't wait so long between visits -- we hadn't seen each other in two years -- but it's all due to her that we were able to do this. She planned and paid for everything. (She also came out to Colorado two years ago, to help me through surgery.) I have the desire, but not the wherewithal -- with Rocket Boy in St. Louis it's pretty hard for me to go anywhere, and any travel money we have, we spend on trips with the twins. I am really lucky to have a sister who does have the wherewithal to do this, as well as the desire. 

We talked about doing another "Giants Weekend" in 2024. For example, they'll be in Cleveland the weekend of my birthday, lol. I've never been to Cleveland. My sister didn't seem to think that was a good idea.

Whatever we end up doing will be great. But this was one special weekend. Thank you, Nancy!