The Del Mar Coast
Showing up in Del Mar, I felt more than a tad under dressed and over-bearded. While Hollywood was the place to become a star, Del Mar was the place where stars did normal people things, you know, dine on rare beluga caviar, at a levitating restaurant, finishing off with a round of Tiny Dancer on Karaoke, with you snickering at all the typos in the song, which by chance, you penned. Oopsie, not really a great place to get caught when your use to paying for your accommodations in loose change or stand up comedy (and by stand up comedy, I try and tell and awkward joke and they make me pay double the amount and then some). Let’s see what my options are….hmmmm….a castle with an operational draw bridge…another castle….oh….cheaper, no drawbridge. Well, it was time to treat myself, with some help from my padre, and stay at the only Holiday Inn in town. After settling into my spacious room, sneaking my bike into it in the process, I took a walk along the rails that surround the outer rim of the city, just before clay packed cliffs fling themselves into the sea. The sun was setting, but I could catch the flora in the last breath of daylight, the dust rising slightly as you walked, like a mysterious mist, against white, diamond encrusted waves.
