San Diego–Discovered By The Germans In 1904 and By Weez In 2019

Yeah. I like this town. There is a reason real estate is expensive as can be in San Diego. BTW, the locals don’t appreciate the whale’s vagina references.

After several days of eating and drinking like a madman, it was time to reintroduce some vitamins to my body. Right around the corner from the hotel was a juice bar. I saw something called the green apple detox, with some other words too tiny to read below it. I grew up on an apple orchard, so I went for it.

Turns out, those words I couldn’t read on the menu had some stuff with a kick, including a healthy (figuratively, and probably literally) amount of ginger.

We started the adventures by heading to Seaport Village, a tourist spot across the way from Coronado, hitting a few shops and walking the waterfront. While there, we got to watch some dolphin training, see the USS Midway from down the waterfront. I found a nice little cigar shop, and Sarah found cupcakes. We have our vices and we are okay with that.

After Seaport Village, we headed north a bit to La Jolla, where we grabbed some lunch and then hit the beach for sea lions.

Lunch at Duke’s (luckily not that Duke) included more IPAs, ahi tacos, crab wontons, fish tacos and a hell of a view. Did I mention we don’t suck at this?

Then came the sea lions, which was a finalist for my spirit animal, and Sarah says is hers. I settled on the three-toed sloth. These fellers are living the life, sunning on the beach.

And Sarah finally got to put her feet in the Pacific Ocean.

In between the juice bar and the hotel is an Italian grocery story/bar/restaurant. Who doesn’t have this for a mid afternoon dessert snack?

Back to the room for a bit, where we wound up watching the end of the Evansville vs. Kentucky game on the phone, sitting in front of a 55-inch TV, because the hotel doesn’t have the SEC Network. After watching the Aces pull off the upset, we pregames supper by hitting the rooftop bar. Firepit, couch, Macallan 18 and a view of Petco Park just a couple blocks away.

Then came what turned into one of my favorite meals of my life, getting tapas at Cafe Sevilla. This meal came in wave after wave. It was an all-out assault on my taste buds. I survived, barely. Tapas, which basically means small bites, paella, Spanish read wine flight, more IPA, and a birthday dessert. Yeah, this meal was incredible. The pictures look pretty damn good, and even they don’t do it justice. Shrimp and halibut ceviche, queso dip, empinada trio, some kind of potato dish, scallops, bacon-wrapped dates, and two different paellas.

Barely mobile after this meal, we finished off the evening with a nightcap at a downtown speakeasy, where the entrance door is disguised, the decor is fairly swank, the music was club and the bartender was another sommelier.

Hell of a day, if I do say so myself.


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