How can someone not LOVE San Diego?

I don’t get mad when I see people taking them ten minutes or more to order at restaurants, or when I am with a girl who acts like crazy seeing a pair of shoes just one minute after exiting another shoe store where she bought already a pair of shoes. There’s a reason why I don’t get mad in cases like these… I’m the same when it comes to books, I always buy something when I get into some bookstore, and sometimes it takes me lots of time to decide which book to buy, especially in cases like today’s, when space (in my luggage) IS an issue, I can’t just buy two or three books, I need to “compromise” with one. I was at “Borders”, I went to the section with California related books, and my attention was basically drawn by two books: “Under the Perfect Sun”, and “Southern California Trivia”. The first one is about all those things that make San Diego anything but the “paradise on earth” we, tourists, think of this city. The second one is a collection of “weird, wacky and wild” little stories concerning southern California. I ended up buying the second one, the “light” one, the… superficial, you could say, one. Why? Because I am anything but sure that I want to know why San Diego is not a paradise on earth. I am having a hard time either way, getting used to seeing all those hordes of homeless people, something I mentioned in my yesterday’s post. I am here for a couple of days, I don’t need to know the dark sides of this city’s life as they are presented in “Under the Perfect Sun”, even though, if space in my luggage was not an issue, I WOULD have bought both books. Since I had to choose one, I went for the “cheerful” one, shame on me, I know…
Yesterday I wrote a bunch of reasons why I like San Diego. Today I am substituting “like” with “love”, because in my eyes this city IS a lovable place. The more time I spend here, the more I tend to enjoy the locals’ attitude. It’s a cliché to talk about how friendly the locals at some place are, but seriously, I get the feeling that people here are really laid back, always ready, willing and happy to answer a question you may have (yesterday I asked some Mexican looking guy what’s the difference between a cent and a dime, I had no idea that a dime was ten cents). Even the drivers are nice, letting pedestrians pass when it’s the pedestrians’ turn to pass (come to Greece and you will soon realize why this impressed me yesterday, and still does). For Lord’s shake, even the homeless people are nice, meaning… there is a… laid back way in which they ask for help. I’d say the two most interesting short talks I had today, were with homeless people. Seriously. If only they weren’t so damn many… Yesterday I wrote that this phenomenon makes my heart heavy, and I was quick to clarify that this is not because I am some natural born humanitarian. It’s just that homeless people are EVERYWHERE, they are not just half a dozen chaps you normally see in my city, in Greece, they are dozens and dozens and dozens… I went to Balboa Park this morning, having heard and read that it is a really cool place. I went there walking from downtown, and my first impressions were “huh?!”. The southwestern corner of the park is kind of… occupied by homeless people. I saw things today I hadn’t seen before in my life. Honestly… The most striking of all was seeing a 35 something father, I suppose, with an under 10 little girl. The girl was riding her bicycle, which looked weird, because it was in the middle of a huge bunch of homeless people, easily identified by those carriages they have, carrying all their belongings. I first noticed the girl from some distance. Kept walking, and when I came closer, I realized that the bicycle, a couple of teddy bears and a sleeping bag were all the little girl’s “belongings”. She wasn’t there on a pic-nic as I first thought, she and her father had actually spent the night there, as so many other people (I was there early in the morning). A little further away, a team of about 20 homeless people were sitting, listening to someone read passages from the Bible. I wanted to take a picture, but I didn’t want to put anyone in an awkward position, so I just drew back and took the picture from some distance. I don’t know… I feel almost guilty for the situation of these people… I am here on vacation, having paid an expensive plane ticket, carrying my cool Olympus photo camera, with a couple of credit cards in my pocket, not to mention cash, wearing my 200 euros Polo Ralph Lauren sun glasses (which I didn’t pay for myself, but… anyhow), having my own place and a relatively well paid job back home waiting for me when this trip is over, and these people… these people… say a very sincere “God bless you man”, when you hand them a dollar or two… If someone is reading these lines, I’m apologizing for the melancholic mood, you all have your own problems and the last thing you need is to read an update on homelessness in San Diego, California, but on the other hand, this is my blog, this is a little corner where I “immortalize” things I see and do during this trip of mine, and regretfully homelessness IS an issue I have associated San Diego with, I can’t close my eyes and pretend that everything is dreamy…
Before going to Balboa Park, I went to the Marina, another picture-perfect part of San Diego, with freshly cut lawn, lots of space for joggers to sweat, a couple of dozens eating choices, not to mention the hundreds little boats, yachts, you name it… If you love taking pictures and you ever come to San Diego, be sure that you will love it here. You have skyscrapers, you have sea, you have reflections on the sea maximizing your photo shooting opportunities, you have countless palm trees, pieces of art situated at every single corner, AND, you have planes flying above your head all the time, that low that you are under the impression you can see the faces of the passengers. A plane is either landing or taking off from the city’s airport (centrally located) every few seconds (no kidding), so you never have to wait for more than a minute to shoot another picture with an airplane in.
Today I also went to “Little Italy”, cute enough for a leisurely stroll and a cup of coffee or a piece of pizza/plate of pasta. What’s ironic is that the neighborhood’s main street is called “India st.”… Before heading to Borders (bookshop), I had a “cinnamon dolce latte” coffee at Starbucks, reading a local newspaper. This is something I want to comment on, seizing the liberty I am given by the fact that this is MY blog and I can write pretty much anything I want. I hear too many people saying too many bad things about Starbucks, or McDonald’s, but personally I can’t realize what’s the big fuss about. If you’re traveling to… say… India, and you come across a McDonald’s, no one obliges you to go in and choose IT to some “thali” joint where you could have typical (South) Indian food. If you are in Thessaloniki and you want to have a coffee, no one obliges you to go to Starbucks. You may well go to a local café. I can’t understand what’s so… devilish about the fact that McDonald’s and Starbucks are EVERYWHERE! The way I see it, they only multiply your choices, and I see this from the traveler’s point of view. Same thing with bookshops… I love “You’ve Got Mail”, with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, I felt sorry for Meg having to close her little bookshop when the big bad “Fox” opened opposite the street, but… I can’t blame “big chains” for… existing. I had heard about “Borders”, Lonely Planet is not really fond of big bookshop chains, but… give me a break, what’s wrong with huge bookshops that come with wonderful environments, not to mention tempting prices? Ok, I wouldn’t like them if I was running my own little bookshop, but… I insist, you cannot demonize big bookshop chains just for… existing. Aaaaaaaanyhow, almost 5:30pm here, obviously I didn’t go to Tijuana with the rest of the people staying in my hostel, I chose to go there tomorrow, alone. This is how I will spend my last day here, as Monday morning I am taking the bus to Los Angeles. As for tonight, I feel like going to the Gaslamp Quarter, a downtown area full of bars, Mexican food joints, beer places, you name it… Today in the paper I saw an article on a new Greek restaurant, “Exy” (from the Greek word “exi”, which stands for “6”, as the restaurant is situated at the corner of 6th and F streets), went to check it out, out of curiosity, but nothing in there made me feel that I was in a Greek restaurant, it was way too chic for my likes, so… I’ll skip it tonight. I prefer going to some place I saw where Mariachis are playing live every night from 7 to 11pm. Must be touristy, but… who cares? I know I don’t…