Our contact in San Diego (who made some excellent food recommendations and provided an exceptionally comfortable couch to crash on) was my friend and longtime family friend Brittany. She graciously let us crash with her at her ocean view condo, even though she's moving in less than a week, works full time and is getting her Master's, not to mention that her boyfriend, who was also with us much of the time, had thrown out his back. (Guys - if you're reading this - much appreciated.) Also much appreciated was Brittany's expert opinion on the best - and affordable - San Diego eats. My personal favorite (and what I already know I'll be craving back in Minneapolis) was Yogurtland. It's like a playground for frozen yogurt lovers or anybody who made sundaes as a kid and used every little treat they could find in their kitchen as toppings. I fall into both of those categories, so when our first day in San Diego started with a visit to Mission Beach followed by a trip to Yogurtland, I was a happy girl. A trip to Yogurtland (so you'll be prepared when Yogurtland takes over the world and you have to visit it after every meal) goes like this: you arrive, grab a bowl large enough to hold a meal for a family of four, travel down the boardwalk of soft serve frozen yogurt flavors (if you can choose fewer than five of them, I salute you), and then top your pistachio/German chocolate/strawberry-kiwi/New York cheesecake/cookies and cream bowl of goodness with as many delicious toppings as you can fit in the massive bowl, from fresh mango and blackberries to cookie dough and gummy worms, finally ending at the checkout counter where you pay (by the ounce) and try to look away from the scale when it shows how much what you're about to consume actually weighs but gladly hand over whatever amount the cashier tells you to because you just can't wait to actually consume it. I hear there are other Yogurtlands in California. I will be visiting them.
Day 2 in San Diego started with another of Brittany's recommendations - breakfast at Chocolat. If you're in San Diego, find it, go there, and order the banana Nutella crepe. Pair that with a coffee (served to you in a cup and saucer with your own tiny silver carafe for refills) and you won't regret it. You'll only have to ignore the fact that this seems to be the hangout of choice for aging San Diego women who, like you, have nowhere to be on a Monday morning. But there's really no need to worry about that because San Diegans are just so gosh darn nice. I suppose, coming from the state that often has 'nice' added to its name, but also coming from the Uptown Minneapolis, where the service generally seems to intentionally defy that stereotype, I wasn't expecting such niceness from a city in Southern California. And it's not because we were spending so much money and the employees were sucking up for large tips. The two nicest guys we came across were servers at a coffee shop in La Jolla, where we were splitting one coffee and stealing some wifi. Maybe it's all the sunshine here.
Speaking of La Jolla (which is not pronounced La Holla, like I wanted to call it, but La Hoya), this was probably my favorite area of San Diego. (And this is disregarding the fact that it may be the ritziest part of San Diego - and thus not my style.) The La Jolla cove is nothing short of gorgeous and a perfect place for seal watching. Their awkward waddle from the water to the beach is priceless. While we're on the topic of adorable creature watching, by the way - we didn't go to the zoo. I know, I know - it's the thing to do in San Diego and we skipped it. Judge me if you must, but I don't really know what I think of zoos in general, even the San Diego one, so there it is. We had a lovely time in San Diego, without visiting the zoo, and pushed on.
Travel tip: If you're going camping on the California coast, but you're a city kid who can't sleep without familiar sounds around you, my suggestion is that you camp at San Onofre state beach, like we did. The ocean, with beautiful surfing waves and the soothing sound of pebbles tumbling under water from the rocky beach, is just far enough away not to be heard. The camping area is instead next to the parking lot, which stretches alongside the highway and some train tracks (how do we keep finding these places?) Partner the sounds of the semis approaching the weigh stations with the sounds of the trains on the half hour and a mix of the worst music from 10 years ago (consisting largely of Nickelback and Stain'd songs) generously provided to you by the late arriving college kids at the campsite next to you - and you'll forget you're even on the coast. You could be sleeping in your apartment in Minneapolis.
Luckily, the beach was a short walk away.
But we sat a little too close to the water for the way the tide was moving.
And were nearly swept away.
But only nearly. So the next morning we continued on to LA.
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