“I turn my back for a second and there are already girls in
bikinis in the hot tub,” I say as I walked across the rooftop deck at the Doubletree
Hotel in San Diego.
My husband and his friend Blake were only two hours removed
from running the San Diego Rock and Roll ½ Marathon and already relaxing their
tired legs in the hotel’s hot tub. As I walked across the deck two young women
in bikinis lowered themselves into the bubbly water. I could tell I had
unnerved them and followed up my comment with “Hi, did you run the marathon
too?” They had.
After we all introduced ourselves we found out the girls
were from Denver. Capitol Hill neighborhood to be exact. Small world.
I was there to say goodbye because the guy’s plans for the
rest of the afternoon were completely different from mine. After their soak,
the guys were heading back to their rooms for a badly needed post-race nap. They
had started their day 4 a.m. so they would have enough time to stretch and walk
the six blocks to the starting line before the race began at 6 a.m. Then they
spent the next two hours running from downtown San Diego up to SeaWorld. They
didn’t return to the hotel until 10 a.m. Now it was my turn to cover some
ground, but I wouldn’t be running. I was going on a walking tour of Coronado, a
small island across San Diego Bay.
From downtown, Coronado looked like an island. Especially as
seen from the 17th floor of our hotel room window. The land mass
that comprises Coronado was actually a peninsula separated from the mainland by
San Diego Bay. Coronado joined the mainland by a thin strip of land down near
the Mexican border. So as far as San Diegans were concerned, Coronado was an
island. Also like an island, there were two ways to get there. One was a giant
toll bridge on the south side of downtown, but the hassle-free way to get there
was by ferry boat.
Two ferries transported passengers to Coronado; one near the
Convention Center and a second one on the Broadway Pier, not far from our
hotel. I headed that direction, about six or seven blocks. Walking south along
the boardwalk I first passed the Star of India, just one of several ships that
make up the Maritime Museum of San Diego. The Star is the world’s oldest active
sailing ship with a volunteer crew still taking her out each November. It would
have been nice to spend some time aboard, but not this trip. As I continued
down the boardwalk on my left were kitschy table vendors with hats, t-shirts,
scarves and children’s toys. Not much of interest to me, until I approached the
last table. Covering it completely was row after row of brightly painted
ceramic skulls, called Day of the Dead skulls, both creepy and beautiful at the
same time. Like a hummingbird drawn to flowers I was immediately attracted. I
slowed down as I passed the table. Organized by size, the table held the
largest skulls in the back and the smallest of the small up front. The short
young woman behind the table was too busy texting on her phone to notice my interest
in her items. I must have one. Didn’t know what I would do with it, but I had
to have one. However, my cash was limited and I still had ferry tickets to buy.
The skulls could wait.
I kept walking until I reached the Broadway Pier where I purchased
my round trip tickets, only $8.50. The time was 11:20 a.m. so I had 40 minutes
before the ferry arrived and more importantly, I had a 10 dollar bill left
over. I returned up the boardwalk toward the table of skulls. I planned on
buying a small one and guessed they were about $5 each. Knowing that street
venders expected some haggling, I did some more planning. If the skulls were $5
each, I would offer two skulls for $8. That sounded reasonable. When I
approached the young woman, she stopped texting and stood up. Although the
calendar said June, clouds hid the sun so the woman wore in a thick black
hoodie and fingerless gloves. A bit much for the 65 degree weather, but those
who lived at sea level seemed to me to be more thin skinned.
“How much are the small ones?” I asked.
“Three dollars each,” she replied. Well, that blew my haggling right
outta the water.
“I’ll take two.” I traded my 10 dollar bill for two skulls
and four ones. She kindly wrapped them in newspaper and put them in a small bag
so I could get them home safely.
I still had a half hour before boarding so I walked back to
the ferry dock, sat on a cement bench and opened my novel to pass the time. I
was halfway through the third installment of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
series and desperately wanted to know how it ended. Despite all the commotion
of the people around me, tourists, walkers and joggers, biker riders, baby
strollers and dogs, I was able to engross myself in the story. That was until I
heard the strum of a guitar nearby. On my left an old black man played a
guitar. He sang a Bob Marley classic, Three Little Birds, one of my favorite
songs. I stopped reading to listen. He may have been old, but his voice was
fluid and smooth. Lying curled up next to him on the cement bench was a dirty white
dog, his head resting on his front paws. On the ground the man’s open guitar
case sat patiently waiting for tips. I went back to my book.
Several minutes later the horn of the ferry boat caused me
to look up from my book. I watched the boat slowly motor toward the dock, a few
deck hands hanging on the sides getting ready to jump off. The man with the guitar
began singing John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High.” I laughed out loud because
he was singing about my home state. His voice actually sounded a lot like John
Denver’s, tenor pitch and soft. I also noticed that a queue had formed at the
ferry boat entrance so I had better get up to make sure I would get a good
seat. I grabbed a couple of the one dollar bills from my bag as I stood up. I
walked over to the man and put the bills in his guitar case. His dog lifted his
nose and then dropped it back down without opening his eyes. I got in line as
the first returning passengers began exiting the dock. Some had bicycles and
wore full cycle outfits. I imagined biking Coronado was great way for the
locals to spend a Sunday morning.
Once all the return passengers were off, we were allowed on
and I managed to grab a seaside seat near the front of the boat. The clouds
above lightened up a bit and the sun attempted to appear between them, but the air
was still cool. Once away from the dock, all of downtown spread out before me;
tall buildings, tall ships and a tall bridge that carried cars from the
mainland over the bay to Coronado. The city looked a dull grey blue. Then the
boat turned to dock and Coronado before me was all green and tan; green water, green
grass, tan buildings and tan beach sand. The boat ride only lasted 10 minutes.
***To find out what I did on Coronado, follow the link to my
latest post for Drinking Made Easy featuring the Coronado Brewing Company.***
Maritime Museum of San Diego
If you like what your read, please take the time to follow my blog. I post stories about once a month.
If you like what your read, please take the time to follow my blog. I post stories about once a month.
