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.
Did I take pictures of anything in this museum, like Wilson from Castaway or Bethany Hamilton’s surfboard with the shark bite?
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.
I borrowed this from Wikipedia, just for you.
Another place we went? The beach, of course!
One of my three photographs
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.
This picture kind of sucks. It’s prettier in real life.
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?
