The past few days have been a whirlwind of new sights, locales, people, and smells. I never would have thought that there was a place that smelled like Vick's Vapo-Rub by nature, but I'd be wrong. Most of it's been great, but it's late at night and my legs want to rip themselves off my body and beat me without mercy, so I don't know how much I can trust to relay without harmful bias.
Like visiting Chandler, AZ. The Endres can put on a good spread for the travel-weary soul, the kids are uniquely accommodating (if somewhat insistent in other respects), and have been a joy to be around since I first knew them. But it hurts to have left.
I can report that when my friend Nathan says he knows a good place in San Diego - be it food place, scenic place, or place whose view will make one tremble with rage - he means it. He's the lovechild of GoogleMaps, Yelp, and Architectural Digest.
Weird details survive in my head when all reasonable thoughts have given up. The summit of the mountain range I drove through to get to San Diego was 4,121 feet above sea level. Can I tell you the name of said range? Nope. It was one of those mountains made mostly of rocks and boulders so large and broken that the only reason they could possibly have not fallen is that none of them want to be the first. It was pretty in the same way bears are pretty - gorgeous unless seeing it live and up close, then it's intimidating.
I remain without a working cable to hook my phone up, which is a shame since tonight I discovered two things: San Diego has some lovely skylines at night, and my phone's camera has a panoramic feature. When I finally do get that thing to work, I'm going to break the internet.