Last weekend Mike and I journeyed to North County, San Diego. Not a whole lot happened on the trip, and I was such a lazy good-for-nothing that I didn’t even take pictures until the last day, when it occurred to me, “hey, I might want to blog about this later.” I snapped three half-hearted photos, one of which is a duplicate, and called it good enough.
I have been tired lately. I took naps on this trip. Naps. For those of you who don’t know me, I don’t really nap. I’m just not a sleep-during-the-day kind of girl. I’m a let’s-cram-every-bit-of-fun-we-can-into-this-time-away-from-suburban-sprawl kind of traveler. But I was tired. And I was hungry, so yes, I did eat that giant burrito, two slices of pizza, sashimi, and green tea crème brûlée. Oh, and mustn’t forget the waffles from the waffle truck in downtown Carlsbad: extra Nutella, hold the bananas.
So I guess it was a vacation well-done.
One place we did go to, aside from our visit to where I restarted my life, was the California Surf Museum. Now, I’m not a surfer – never have been, never will be – but I grew up around surfers. You can’t turn around in Southern California without elbowing a surfer in the ribs. And Mike, as you’ve probably guessed, is a surfer, too. When you pair up a surfer with a museum junkie, you get trips to the local surf museum.
Of course not. But I learned a lot about the history of surfboards. Message me privately if you want a detailed account of Duke Kahanamoku and why he’s considered the Father of Surf.
Another place we went? The beach, of course!
Now, I am a fair-skinned lass, so of course I packed my SPF 150. That said, the sunscreen must have either not been enough, or I was just a shade of white un-protectable from the UV spectrum, because I got fried. Really fried. On the plus side, I kind of have a tan now. On the minus side, I may die of melanoma. If the latter should occur, I’m leaving you my guitar and my DVD collection. Remind me later to put it in my will.*
*Said will being a kind of mental Rolodex that is in no way legally binding
I also attempted to go in the water without my glasses. This was a horrible, terrible mistake, as I cannot see one foot in front of me. I’m also kind of apprehensive about swimming in the ocean due to a near-drowning experience with a rip tide in my teen years. So after futzing around in the knee-deep wash, Mike came out and held my hand so we could get past the break line and tread water. It’s a good thing he could see me, because I sure as hell couldn’t see him, much less anything else. I could have been approached by a giant squid and not seen the gelatinous blob coming for me.
Side Note: I was going to stick a picture of a giant squid right here, but perusing the pictures started freaking me out, so I decided against it.
My favorite part about this beach, it’s right below some sort of supremely gorgeous yogic temple.
Only in Southern California would you encounter a cliff-side ashram overlooking a famous surf spot.
So that was my mini-vacation. Any summer getaways on your horizon?