San Diego, Part 4

Everyone but us left early Sunday. Due to incomplete communication among the family (he said, with immense politeness), the three of us arrived a day later and would leave a day later than the others, so breakfast was our last chance for family schmoozing. We went to yet another Mexican restaurant in Old Town, El Fandango, and had breakfast in ridiculous restaurant-size portions that left us feeling no need for more food until evening. Kind words and sentiments were exchanged at the restaurant and then a few more back at the hotel.

We drove downtown and walked around, intending to check out bookstores that we'd looked up in the Yellow Pages, but found one closed on sunday and another defunct for months if not years. We did see some gorgeous architecture, including several truly splendid parking garages.

We stumbled upon a gateway to a parallel universe that turned out to be the Horton Plaza we had been told about. It was quite staggering, literally frightening, such an extreme shopping experience, and I am no shopper. Someone who was actually interested in all those places we saw on one quick walk through would really have been moved. I wish now that I had saved the phrase "the mind boggles" for time slike that one. But then, Kathe probably wishes I was more sparing with it, too.

After that Kathe, Waldy and I headed once again into Balboa Park to see the Museum of Man (swell!) and the Museum of Art (not so hot). We were amused by the quaint reconstructions of ancient hominids left over from the 1915 World's Fair, and by the less-than-perfect reconstructions left over from the 1974 filming of The Naked Ape.

After that, we checked out book stores, or as it turned out, I did while Waldy stayed behind and Kathe sat patiently in the car. She really is awfully nice to me, you know. Then we turned in the car, leaving us at the mercy of San Diego rapid transit, which proved to be merciful indeed.

Back at the hotel, we talked about going to find some takeout food, but were still only moderately interested in food after the enormous breakfast. We walked around Old Town, looked in at restaurants, but finally walked back without anything. We did, though, finally break our silence on the mysterious pipes that erupt from the pavement with surprising frequency in San Diego.

The next morning, we took a taxi to the airport, retraced our steps through Salt Lake City and Eugene, found our car in the parking lot looking eerily unchanged after a long weekend away, and went home. It was right there where we'd left it. Amazing.