We had to catch the train at 6:55 in the morning in San Luis Obispo. My dad likes to be early for everything so that meant that he wanted to arrive at the train station at 6:30 a.m. It's a good 45 minute drive from our house so the morning of March 8th, I found myself leaving Peachy Canyon at 5:45! Those who know me know I am NOT a morning person. Also, Daylight Savings Time had begun the same day so though my clock said 5:45, it was actually 4:45 a.m. This is a stretch for any human! However, though neither one of us had slept much, we made it and were ushered onto the train promptly. No one even glanced at our tickets that we had painstakingly printed out in duplicate - just asked us our names and welcomed us aboard. I love small towns!
We parked ourselves in a downstairs car that was reserved for the disabled and senior guests. Dad didn't have to climb any stairs to get to the bathroom and we could still see fine. Also, it was roomier since there weren't as many seats in order to accommodate wheelchairs. I tried to ignore the fact that I could have legitimately been seated in that car even if I hadn't been traveling with a guy who was just six weeks shy of 89. I had hoped to sleep a bit on the way down but that didn't happen. Nevertheless, we had a very pleasant trip and arrived at our stop in Old Town San Diego about 3:30 that afternoon.
Our plan was to use all public transportation while there and not rent a car. So there we stood on the platform watching our train pull away. We each had a suitcase on wheels and a backpack and a jacket. In addition, Dad was wearing a trendy fanny pack and I had a purse slung across my chest. I studied the Map Quest directions to our hotel and we started off on the almost 3/4 mile trek through Old Town to the La Quinta Inn. The sidewalks were narrow in most places so we trudged along, single file, like two homeless people, dragging our suitcases behind us. After a missed turn or two, we gratefully arrived at the hotel and settled in. Dad first plugged in an alarm clock that he had packed. When I questioned him about it he said that he didn't trust the hotel clocks. I informed him that we were on vacation and I had no intention of being awakened by an alarm clock! By mutual agreement, we tabled that discussion. The next order of business was to venture out to forage for food. (I had packed our breakfast and lunch for the train so we had eaten carrot sticks, almonds, granola bars, bananas, peanut butter and honey sandwiches, and goldfish crackers.) We were both ready for something hot, preferably preceded by a glass of wine.
Off we went in search of an acceptable restaurant. Neither one of us wanted Mexican food however, Old Town is the site of the first permanent Spanish settlement and the first mission built by Father Junipero Serra. After walking up and down the two little main streets, we discovered that our only option, besides a small Thai restaurant, was a classy looking Italian place. Every other eatery was Mexican food. Italian it was and we had a very satisfying dinner served by extremely friendly people. We walked back to the hotel and Dad was in bed and sound asleep by 7:30.
Monday was our first day of sightseeing. Since visiting the Midway was the main reason Dad wanted to be in San Diego, I decided to make that our first day's excursion so that we would be relatively fresh. Dad was content to let me do all the planning as well as figure out how to get us places. This was not a role I was comfortable in but I had done some research before leaving Paso Robles and had at least a vague idea of how the S.D. transportation system worked. Dad gets up earlier than I do so he got up and went to the hotel breakfast while I took my time sleeping a little later. Eventually, we embarked on walking back to the Old Town Transit Center. I parked Dad on a bench while I went in search of a place to buy transportation passes for us that would allow us to travel all over San Diego and do it quite inexpensively. I was pretty proud of myself and returned to the bench clutching our "Compass Passes." When I had read about it online, the public transit was called the San Diego Trolley System. I was envisioning slow moving, picturesque trolleys that would be a pleasure to ride. Instead, what they call a trolley is, in fact, a train. Ours roared into the station and we had about 45 seconds to throw ourselves up very steep steps and into the train and then grab a pole while we searched for a seat, before the train sped off. It was harrowing to say the least. We got off the train at the main Depot in Downtown San Diego and walked about another 1/2 mile to the Midway Museum. If you haven't been there, it is quite an interesting place. You can click on the link below to read about it.
Midway Museum
Dad has a WWII Veteran cap that is his favorite and he wears it a lot. On our trip, he wore it every day. This meant that every 10 feet or so, someone would stop him and want to shake his hand and thank him for his military service. This gave him an opportunity to chat with strangers and he was always interested in each individual. He would ask about them and enjoyed hearing their stories, even the homeless man on the corner whose father had been in WWII. Of course, on the Midway itself, he was quite the attraction. We were surrounded by veterans and they all certainly appreciated the fact that there weren't too many WWII Veterans left. We spent hours touring the ship and walked countless steps. There were many planes on display and lots of them were quite old. One of the first that we stopped at was a dive bomber and Dad was so excited to see it. He told me how he'd never been up in any sort of plane before until this one. A pilot stationed with him needed practice hours and offered to take him up in the dive bomber. Dad would later get a pilot's license himself after he got out of the Navy.
The flight deck on this ship is over 4 acres! Amazing. After seeing everything we could on three levels, we noticed a line forming for a tour of the "tower." This involved 4 flights of very steep, narrow steps up to the tower where somebody (whose rank I have forgotten) would steer, command, direct etc. the huge ship. Dad was determined to make it up those steps and into the highest point on the carrier. And you know what? He did! Dad found Christ when he was a young man in the Navy so that period in his life is extremely special to him. You can read about his conversion here:
Dad meets the Lord
Finally, after many hours of enjoyable meandering, listening to stories of Dad's time in the Navy, we headed back to the train depot to catch the "trolley" back to Old Town. We walked from the train station back to the same little Italian Restaurant as the previous night and then back to our hotel. It was a great day and Dad still talks about it.
The next day our plan was to make our way to Balboa Park. This is where the San Diego Zoo is although we had decided we would skip the zoo because it is a fairly strenuous trek and we had both been there before. But Balboa Park has many other attractions, museums, and an Imax Theater so we knew there would be lots to do. Getting there, however, became somewhat of an issue. My directions said to take a bus from the Old Town Station (remember, that was a 3/4 mile walk again) with a transfer to another bus somewhere downtown. Unfortunately, I was unable to find the aforementioned bus but a somewhat detached security guard directed me to the "trolley" and we once again found ourselves headed downtown. We transferred onto another "trolley" at the instruction of the guard and met a very nice young woman who struck up a conversation with us. She was a local who was engaged to a Navy man stationed in San Diego. She was honestly a little trashy looking but she was working full time as a chef and also going to school and was incredibly helpful. It was a good reminder to me to not be so judgmental based on appearance. She told us exactly where to get off the trolley and what bus number to get on in order to get to Balboa Park. Were it not for her, we might still be riding around on the San Diego Trolleys. I was reminded suddenly of an old Kingston Trio song that my dad had taught me when I was just a kid. If you're interested, you can follow the link below to listen to it.
The M.T.A. Song
Anyway, we transferred onto a bus successfully and then onto a tram and ultimately arrived at Balboa Park. It had seemed to take forever and I was exhausted just from the stress of not knowing where in the heck we were and how to safely get my dad there. We bravely stumbled into the park and headed straight to the Imax Theater where we contentedly sank into comfy seats and watched two movies - one about Humpback whales and the other about the South Pacific. They were fabulous! The sort of sad thing was that when we left the theater it was already close to 4:00 p.m. and the park was closing at 5:00. We went into one very disappointing photography exhibit and then had to head back. We could have spent days in the park but we just didn't have the time. We began to re-trace our steps. The tram took us easily back to our bus stop. Again, God sent an angel to watch out for us. When we got on the bus, for some odd reason, I told the bus driver where we needed to go. He told us our trolley was the 4th stop. What he failed to mention was that he didn't always pause at every designated stop. Dad and I were sitting comfortably in the middle of the bus, surrounded by college students, and I was happily preparing to count each layover and looking forward to getting back to the security of our hotel. Finally, the bus pulled over for the first time. Dad and I sat and waited for numerous kids to disembark. We were really tired by now and were collapsed in our seats when I suddenly realized that the driver was hollering at me. I looked at him questioningly and he said, "Get out! This is your stop!" I thanked him profusely as we hurried off (I use the term "hurried" very loosely") but we found ourselves on an unfamiliar corner. We wandered around a bit and discovered that this was our trolley stop. It was just that we needed to board on a different corner than we had on the way to the park. Whew! That trolley took us to the Downtown Station which felt like an old friend. We knew our way from there and flopped onto the trolley that took us back to Old Town. We walked to an old refurbished hotel-turned-restaurant, had a wonderful dinner and then again, plodded back to the La Quinta. Dad was a trooper!
Wednesday was our last full day in San Diego and we had planned to go on the Harbor Cruise. It originated right next to the USS Midway so I was relieved to know where I was going and had more confidence as a seasoned traveler. The day before had really taken it out of me and I was looking forward to relaxing on the cruise. The day was somewhat overcast but that seemed to add to the atmosphere. Dad especially enjoyed seeing the USS Ronald Reagan as well as the submarine base and some fighters jets practicing take-offs and landings.
After a very satisfying couple of hours we got off the ship. Dad was feeling pretty perky so he wanted to walk along the harbor front to a shopping area called Seaport Village. We wandered through a lot of tourist shops looking at everything from expensive artwork to hanging chairs to hats. We finally headed back to the train station and caught the trolley back to our home territory. We got off in Old Town at about 4 p.m. It had been a long but gratifying day. I think the trip had finally caught up with me. I suggested we head to the same restaurant in the old hotel and have an early dinner. Dad hadn't eaten since breakfast and I hadn't eaten yet at all that day. For some reason, he insisted we couldn't eat that early so we began to traipse in and out of old shops - the old post office, the old cigar shop, the old stage coach stop, etc. I practically begged him several times to let us go eat but he kept on saying it was just too soon. I was done in so I sat down on a bench outside while Dad went in yet another old historic exhibit. When he came back outside he said to me, "You know, I know I should be interested in all this but I am just so tired!" "What? Are you kidding me?" I replied. "Let's go! It's Happy Hour!" I got him over to the restaurant and I dropped into a chair and ordered a glass of wine. Relief settled over both of us as we realized just how tired we really were. Dad still wouldn't order dinner for almost another hour but that was O.K. The restaurant was beautiful and almost deserted, we were off our feet and we had alcohol. I could survive. After a delicious meal, we headed back to our hotel, still on foot, and Dad hit the sack before 7:00 p.m.
The next morning we decided to splurge and take a taxi to the downtown train station. By then, neither one of us could face dragging our baggage through town. It was the best $27 Dad ever spent! We were worn out but happy and all we had to do now was sit on the train that would take us home. We arrived back in SLO at 10:00 p.m. and were home and in bed by 11:30. What a wonderful opportunity God had given both of us. How many kids get that kind of time with a parent?
