On one of the big travel message boards, one of the ones where people are allowed to be hostile to their fellow humans, a poster reprimanded someone for hating Venice. “Asshole,” she said (in so many words), “why don’t you just go back to San Diego, or wherever it is you are from.” Implying that San Diego is all white bread suburb action. Like not as cool as wherever she was from.

Well, I may be twisting words ever so slightly so, but the jist of it is there. And my message to Travel Board Homegirl is, clearly you have not seen the best of San Diego.

San Diego is a BORDER TOWN. Even better, it is a border town where cool people from other cities choose to move to. Like me! I’m not holding back.

I lived in Italy in 2001, and came home for the holidays. I met with my bosses on New Years Day, 2002, in Sonoma. I wanted to come back, they wanted me back. “I won’t go back to San Francisco” I said. “OK,” said Head Honcho. “Where do you want to go?” He said. I thought for a minute. “I want to go to San Diego,” I said. But really, I meant Ocean Beach.

The reason I even thought of this place is that my brother has lived here for a long time. I would come and visit and drink Vodka Collinses and smoke Camels and eat fish tacos and feel totally at home. But San Diego, and Ocean Beach are different. Ocean Beach is the best part of San Diego, and possibly the best part of California. It is glorious here. It has an edge – like Budapest has an edge, or New Orleans has an edge. Ocean Beach is a state of mind that is totally beyond anyone not mentally prepared for it.

My move here has been ultra-successful. I love Ocean Beach. I love the beach culture, the weirdo in the dollar shop screaming “Linda Blair! Exorcist! Whore, whore!” I love the smell of warm fog. I even love the taste of cheap Zinfandel, when it involves Shuffleboard at Tiny’s Pub. I love that I live a block from the ocean, that there are meth-heads around, that downtown San Diego is directly East from me. I love the Ocean Beach post office, where the vibe is so laid back that someone actually got reprimanded for being an asshole-waiting-in-line. The postmaster lady said, “I’m sorry sir, but that kind of behavior is not allowed in Ocean Beach.”

What does this have to do with Border Town? you ask. Absolutely bleeping nothing. But today I sat on a rock at Sunset Cliffs, a half block from my house, drinking white wine and looking at the sea. There was a Mexican family hanging out next to me, eating some tasty grub like boiled shrimps in the shell, carnitas and salsa, and drinking Bud Light. They were having their Memorial Day picnic like all good Americans, and because of the proximity I kept looking over at them. I was reading my Saveur magazine and also, staring at these girls pounding food.

Finally, one of the Mexican women walks towards me, I think she is walking somewhere else, but soon her shadow is over me. I look up. She smiles, with a gold tooth glowing in her mouth. “Would you like a soda?” She asks, holding out a 7-up. I’ve been here two years, almost to the day, and I love it more with each passing second.

This entry was posted on Monday, May 31st, 2004 at 8:25 pm and is filed under Tales from a Strange Land. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.