The Coaster train weaved in and out of the Sorrento Valley. I was on my way back to San Diego from Encinitas. The heavy set gentleman sat across from me asleep. It was three thirty. My eyes began to open while my lungs unclogged. I sneezed.
The gentleman wore tattered blue jeans and a three day growth of facial hair. His triple chinned face looked like it had been in a 15 round fight. Out of the mist Mr. Son said hello to me at one o'clock sun time. It set later each day.
Humid air gave way to clear sunshine. My air filter opened. . I sneezed. The bearded one woke up and peaked out the window. The coaster entered the Sorrento Valley area. It curved like a serpent over tall hills. The Oaks smiled with more leafs-due to the rain. Five minutes later, the Coaster hit the straight away. The pines and oaks followed a crease in the valley holding water.
"Next stop, Old Town. Make sure to remove everything before descending."
I spilled my bag of finished juice oranges and stepped down wearing my nap sack Whereas Encinitas had been fogged in holding too much smog and pollen, carrying too much smog and , the San Diego Harbor breeze pushed the sludge out of my way. Below me swam the San Diego River, a bit higher after the rains. The Mission Valley with its Sea World were to my west.
I stepped down the steps and crossed to the light. The big white house in front of me beckoned. I sat down in the patio area of the Wrightington House. Now underneath the Spanish eves, I had my first look at the beginning of spring. The Concord grape showed off its first leaf. The mighty fig already had a couple of ripe fruit ready to be eaten. Today I would treat myself to a coned rainbow ice cream. . I first took my weight at the old silver scale. It felt good to breath again.
But San Diego is not just the home to Old Town. There is also Little Italy, the Gas Lamp, Zoo, Balboa Park, Seaport Village and the Midway aircraft carrier The Asians flock to see the sailor kissing the nurse on the south side. The thin Japanese with their camera may have lost the war, but they now claimed part of San Diego as their own.
Not to be outdone, the taller Chinese love Old Town. Many come to look rather than buy. Those from overseas dress in bright colors with a perpetual smile. They carry cameras. One told me they had never seen a Palm Tree before or the great San Diego weather. Whereas the Japanese have a dead panned expression, the Chinese are always jovial, and why not, they have our money.
It was late afternoon and time for my nap. I returned to the Old Town train station and removed a book parked inside its lot. I then took the Green Line back to my hotel. At the Santa Fe station I spilled out, buffeted by a heavy Harbor breeze. The air temperature had dropped five degrees also. A middle aged couple looked lost.
Can I help you?
"Yes, we wish to get to the airport bus stop."
Why just follow me. I live a block from it. Where you from?
"Texas. And it it bitter cold."
Are you taking a flight?
"No, we wish to return to the Sheraton."
Get off at the first terminal. The walk is only two long blocks south. Here is my blog. They call me 'Cruisin' George around these parts.
I left to take my nap and eat my salad before turning in a seven. Yes, I am an early riser.
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