The La Jolla Cove

  Today was the last day of fall. It is the 22nd of September. My car had alignment troubles so I left the roach infested Y and headed to the Santa Fe Station. Since the Coaster has a limited scheduled this  weekend, I decided to take the Green Line to the Old Town Transit station.
   The most gorgeous view in the world beckoned me. My second grand daughter, Allison had been born yesterday,  and I needed time to relax. For eight months, my daughter's laborious labor became mine! I also needed to end my relationship with my girl friend Gloria.
    I arrived at Old Town and followed the many Mexican laborers under a freeway bridge west to the number 30 bus. The buses run every fifteen minutes during the week but every thirty minutes on the weekends. I found a seat, and removed my Charles Dickens book from my nap sack to read.
   Many of the patrons dosed off. It is amazing how the many domestics could open their eyes just when their stop arrived.  Two white homeless chatted, while a heavy lady spread her wings over her seat half of the aisle. I  focused on Charles Dickens. My wish was go visit the very places he wrote about. Just maybe next year I can make it  since I wish to visit England next year and revisit the many villages he traversed.
   The bus exited the depot and weaved to the 5 freeway north. Its exit was Grand Avenue. We took this street a few miles until Mission took over. The bus driver made a right and went north towards our destination. I knew we hit La Jolla by the roundabouts in the middle of the street. He needed to slow down to maneuver these islands.

  The sea breezes and clearness of the blue sky and ocean changed my mood from blue to a rosy red. Most of the Mexicans had left long ago. My exit station was Silberado and Girard. I walked west up Girard to the best pastry shop this side of the Atlantic Ocean. The owner greeted me at her cafe Girard's Pasty but had to go for a wedding.
   I read a lonely paper while indulging in a raisin Danish and small hot chocolate. The thought of the second grand child consumed my thoughts until I read the discarded Union Tribune paper. A few radicalized Moslems had infiltrated a busy spot in Kenya and killed too many. I could not finish my Danish when the article read the killers focused on Westerners
  It was ten and I felt like attacking the day. Girard Street spills into cove area of La Jolla. A crowd gathered around Cody's restaurant for breakfast. So crowed it was, I needed to jay walk on the street until I got to my cozy cove spot.  Union towards the ocean on Girard. The street flows eventually into the world famous La Jolla Coves. I stopped for a hot chocolate and chat with Diana. Her  pastry shop uses fruits from her Julian farm. Everything is home grown.
   I peered into a busy hat shop, and then the cutest toy store took me by surprise. I slid into Gippetto's toy store and bought Pinocchio for my grandchild. I proceded towards the famous La Jolla Cove area. I sat on a bench at a large park with the name of  browning a removed a tuna sandwich. After the break,   .  I decided to trek it one of my fa
    It was a perfect clear day, and everything was going my way. My nostrils needed chap stick as did my lips. I spread an ample supply of sun screen on my ears and face and meandered on the famous cove. Several touring buses arrived with the usual, Asians holding cameras with a few holding flashy umbrellas. They had bused in from Alhambra California and most held cameras. And what is a Asian without their camera.


I stopped at the Elene Browning Scripp' s Park to enjoy my tuna sandwich and dring another swig of water. I felt like a kid again and wished to see the Sea Lions and black nicked birds on the cliff.  I needed to see the sea lions again. Troops of people were everywhere grabbing souvenirs or just having a breakfast with a view.
It was a perfect day in La Jolla, not a cloud in the sky and a light ocean breeze. My lungs waltzed down Girard Stree to the Browning park. I sat on a bench to rest my weary legs. Cars were everywhere trying to find a parking space. Not me. I watched the tourist eye balling the best looking view in my world.

I walked further to a staircase which led to some big rocks and a view of the tide pools, black rocks, and sea lions playing a roll-over-game. I ease-dropped on lions lions rolling over an Albino sea lion. "Arf, arf, arf..." I imitated their sound to placate my hunger to be one of them.

A sea of Japanese, Chinese, and those from Hong Kong eagerly pictured the scene below. A gull dropped a present on my head. I tried to find one fat Asian but couldn't. I could see they ate nothing but fish, noodles and rice. For me, my tuna sandwich was enough.

Some long black necked bird skimmed the ocean for Mackerel or Sardines. A flock of gulls played the game Tops on the branches of a flat fir tree. Some kids had climbed to the top. I saw my buddy Floyd returning from the shack besides the overhang. He and his wife Mildred drive their disabled car, park, and cook a breafast for the early birds.  .

It was two:o'clock and my body told me it was time to return the way I had come. I told my stomach to wait until we arrived home. I still  had a can of Cosco Tuna in the Fridge.

I met an es Director of the United Way. She told me why she and her husband enjoy La Jolla. "My husband and I enjoy visiting the beautiful beaches on the coast. Here in La Jolla, we have independent shops. We don't allow Seven Eleven or other fast buck shops to live here. George, I had been told that Dr. Seuss wrote his books here, and the British Prmie Minister Thatcher had a book signng here.

I walked down the stairs afterwards to take a ten minute nap. A little hidden cave is where I dropped my nap sack for a much needed nap. Was I dreaming? I awoke to two Sealions making love not far from me. The 'arf sound became lowder.

Well, it is time to return to Girard and Silverspur and catch the number 30 bus, I need to look at my favorite tree, the locquats in Old Town and watch the concord grapes evolve.


I make it a point to visit the La Jolla Caves each Sunday. I leave the driving to bus number 30. Climbing aboard is a  Sunday's crop of Mexican cleaners, old residens, students, and a "Michmach" of psycotics and the homeless with nothing better to do. I am one of them. The number 30 jumps on the 5 freeway and spills out on Grand Blvd. From Grand, it mianders to Mission Blvd and then on to La Jolla.
It is my time to edit one of my stories on the bus today. The ocean breeze provides a newborn energy for me, and a change from the every day hurdles of life. The bus ambles along to Pacfic, Mission and finally La Jolla. It les along toward Pacific, Mission, and then La Jolla. It is, at least, a forty minute trip. The salty air invigorates my creative juices and my thoughts spill out effortlessly.

The Mexican maids spill out one stop at a time. It is like they have been cloned to do this. Some of the men leave to visit their favorite beach. I stumble out at Girard and Silverado. I march up to my favorite pastry shop, Girards. I endulge in a cinnemon raison roll and a hot chocolate to wash it down. I edit some more. I take a few pictures of Mary, teh owner and walk across the street.

Warwicks book store is about to open its doors at ten. I need a Mother's Day card for my ex and wish to look at sports book. "It is the best book and gift store" we have ever seen. I needed to confirm with my own eyes the validity of their statement...I needed to wait in line just to buy a card. After poking in at a few sports books, I saw one on 'Silent Calvin Cooledge, an ex president. Every book or gift said, "Take me home". 

From there I said hello to Gippetto's toy store and made it to the Ellen Browning Scripps Park's bench. I ate my first Costco's tuna sandwich and gleefully watched the many cars praying for a place to park. I felt happy the fog had rolled in and stepped down a staircase to my favorite hideaway.

I drank some water and placed my knapsack against a rock. It became my seat for the afternoon. I read from a local paper and enjoyed the view. More Asians had discovered this little cove. Cameras were out as the large hat Asians enjoyed the tidepools, black rocks and the sea lions. Next to me a middle aged kid plopped down with an enormous bucket filled with a scuba gear and a wet suit.

A father and his two teenagers joined him. "We need to wait for the fog to lift," he said. "We need a clear view of the fish acquarium. So you see all of the scuba divers over there. Teh sea acuarium had a shark and several fish. None of tehm bite."

He mentioned a gold fish called a geribaldi, but did not know how to spell it. They went into the water and I made up my mind to buy a wet suit and join them next month. I took a fiew pictures for my Blog and returned to Girard and Silverado. The number 30 came on the half hour. Thank God I had a watch to time his arrival.

On this hot Mother's Day, I made the error of going to Old Town again. I had to pay the price with a stay in bed the next day.