First stop: San Diego

We spent the first couple of days in LA with R.’s family, eating, chatting, playing with the kiddies, and even squeezing in some gallery hopping and a movie. We trendy like that. Then on the road we got, down the Pacific Coast Highway to sunny San Diego. A friend met us for some excellent tacos, we checked out the beach, the marina, downtown, and finally (finally!) it was time for the game. Padres vs. Diamondbacks. Not really an exciting match up (sorry Padres fans! Sorry D-Backs fans!) given that both teams suck haven’t really been at their best in recent years and that we had no emotional connection with either, but we cheered the home team enthusiastically nonetheless. Padres fans are a committed and loyal bunch, and they deserved praise. Also, they had the best uniforms for a short while back in the 70s. Such a tragedy they got rid of them. Come on, that brown! And the monks! The monks!

Attendance was low, and after a few innings we sneaked down to seats right next to the Diamondbacks dug out. So cool to be so close to the field! The game was tied 2-2 and went into extra innings, until one of the San Diego guys (the one posing with his dog in the program) crushed one over the fence. CRUSHED it. We heard a huge smack, and we all got on our feet and yelled and screamed as the guy with the dog photo jogged around the bases. He made it back to home plate, his fellow Padres piled on him, and the home team won.

The next day we went to the zoo.

I spotted this really beautiful house somewhere near Old City that reminded me so much of my friend Ariele and her beautiful tables. That door! These four windows on the front were the only windows of the entire house. So curious what it looked like inside! Now I wish I’d had the balls to ring the bell and beg them to let me in. Weird? Inappropriate? Meh.

San Diego really is lovely, even made me forget that I’m a New Yorker and that I love bricks, grime, soot, rust and cast iron. And? They have seals! So cute! (and vicious, or so, at least, claims Arrested Development).

We played paddle ball on the beach and witnessed a magnificent sunset with palm trees and all. In France the sun sets over the Atlantic ocean, and this is one thing I’ve missed living on the East Coast. In New York, the sun sets over Jersey, which is a different kind of beautiful. Looking at the sun setting over the Pacific ocean, I had a thought for my grandmother, who taught me everything I know about art and who has a thing for sunsets. She’s now a very old lady who is increasingly losing touch with reality, but whenever the sky turns gold, she looks up, her eyes grow wide, her face warms up, and she studies the sunset with a focus, delight and artistic appraisal that I will never forget. “C’est beau”, she whispers.

C’est beau.

Next up: an evening at Dodger Stadium.