No Real Lair Can you be lost without a destination? - - Photos at http://www.flickr.com/photos/alorraine/

Holly Holly Holly...when you rented out the gorgeous beach front apartment of yours to five delinquents from Scotland (and Sweden), did you really think we'd be reading books and watching TV?  You did....well thanks for reading this story, I'm sure you've got better things to be doing with your time, like telling basketball players to be less tall.

We arrived at our apartment in pitch darkness, not quite realising how close or beautiful the beach was.  We watched paramedics save someone's life after a heart attack on the boardwalk below us and indeed did have a quiet night, with Gin & Tonics and a cracking Carbonara, courtesy of Jo.  Confirming that I was going to be on a camp-bed in the living room wasn't a surprise, though I'd have rather had one of the two ensuite suites in the flat.  I exacted my revenge in Vegas though, I'll tell you later.

In the morning it was all there, 10 metres to the beach, a huge pier jutting down into the sea, beach front cafes and bars and surfboards in the cupboard.  Straight to the beach it was for us (did I mention that in mid November it was 30'C?  Did I?  I did, good).  Setting up camp behind a sand dune, I immediately grabbed a skimboard and headed for the water.  I would have tried surfing again, but the eight feet tall barrel waves (and hundreds of actual surfers) kinda put be off.  The first go on the skim board resulted in a face in the sand, and it didn't get much better.  If something is too hard (or you don't really know what you are doing in the first place) sack it, and play frisbee instead.  I've always said that.  Much fun was had, left handed catches gathering the highest of whoops, whilst dramatic dives and near misses were suitably applauded.  In search of a beer Chris managed to start a fight with the barman over the lack of a passport for ID so we had to settle for fresh fruit smoothies for the grown ups, and bubblegum flavoured slurpies for Murdoch. 

In SD, we had one big objective, to visit the biggest zoo in the world and do as many Anchorman impressions as possible.  PANDA WATCH!

We were not disappointed.  We were good and lost for an hour or so before finding the worst-signposted-attraction-ever, but once we were there we were dancing.  I've not been to a zoo for seven years or so, and that was in Edinburgh were penguins are considered exciting, so to get in to close contact with polar bears, hippos, little monkeys, big monkeys, gorillas etc made for a very happy day.  The main 'attraction' at the zoo is of course the panda enclosure.  They've got a breeding pair of the fellows and an 18 month old cub.  We visited a few times and found them climbing all over the place, drinking, eating bamboo, doing stuff..  I love it when the animals actually do something.  I don't know how they do it, but the park rangers with the cattle prods were very well hidden all across the zoo.  Actually, that's not fair, it's the first zoo I've been to where you are acutely aware that people are invited guests to a working nature conservation project.  Without the zoo the animal kingdom would be a smaller place with fewer party animals. 

The next day the kids wanted to go to Seaworld, so Uncle Al jumped into the car and dropped them off at the dolphin pools, before sticking it to the Dollar Rental Man down at the airport.  Ty and Jo and I had always planned to go to Mexico for a lost day, but recent reports claim kidnappings and murders are literally a daily occurance, and whilst I'm pretty gun-ho in such occasions, we kinda figured that Beloni and Lorna liked pancakes in the morning, and wouldn't manage the same quality that Uncle Al can dish out.

I MAKE AMAZING PANCAKES WITH MAPLE SYRUP AND BACON.

Avoiding certain death we heading North to La Jolla for a spot of sea kayaking.  Whilst the weather was misty and overcast, it was still plenty warm with a life vest on.  Falling in was a school boy error, but taking off that T-shirt to go skin to life vest was a disaster.  Mr Left on the chest is still not quite the same.  We paddled out past Devil's Slide to find twenty seals lying on the rocks beside a series of caves underneath the cliffs.  We'd been explicitly told not to go into the caves with the kayaks, and not knowing how to fix broken skulls we acquiesced and paddled around the couple of seals who were playing in the ocean.  At first they were hard to spot in the water, but soon enough they were swimming under us and following us down the coast.  Seeing Chris turn into a seven year old boy again was also good fun.  As we paddled back towards the beach along the coast we found a school of bright golden fish in shallow water, before eventually spotting Leopard Sharks below us.  When I signed up for kayaking I was expecting some good old fashioned messing about on the river, I certainly wasn't expecting to see such wildlife in close proximity.  The sharks were swimming in shallow water and easy to see as they swam over sand, but impossible to track whilst over seaweed.  AS we got closer to shore and near death on the rocks we noticed a couple of guys chasing each other down the cliffside - in suits.  It looked very muchly like a film being movied, and when they reset and did it again (much better this time) a round of applause was greatly appreciated by them.  So next time you see two gangsters falling down a beach cliff, remember, I did it for you.

Chris Jo and I got back to the apartments and decided on exploring the local bars for 'a couple'.  All I remember of the night after that is happy hour EVERYWHERE ALL THE TIME, meeting quite the racist and a band called Bill.  Or Fred.

Bill came onto the stage in the Pacific bar and said "We'll play any song you like, just right it down on this sheet at the front and we'll.....aha our first customer.  What's your name and where do you come from?"

No points for guessing who went up.

I asked for Ben Folds' "Army", which they of course said yes to, they'd play it in a bit. They played a different BF song about an hour later, which was good, but not the mustard I was hankering for, so we made off to go for dinner.  MID SONG they stopped playing, asking where we were going, so I promised to come back if they promised to play "Army".  Everyone agreed in a Mexican standoff way, no-one really expecting us to return.  Losers.  The lovingly prepared dinner Beloni style was 10 mins short of being ready, so grasping the opportunity to be an arse we practically ran back to the bar.

AGAIN they stopped playing to welcome us back, as did the rest of the bar with appropriate levels of applause.  The band then said they'd only play the song if we joined them  Red rag people, red rag.  Before anyone could think about it we were up at the microphone, Chris on saxaphones, me on trumpets.  Basically with no more avenues of escape the band launched into the song perfectly, whilst me and him danced waiting for our moment of glory.  And it came.

Baa da baa (baa DA BAA) ba ba ba baa (ba da ba ab ba ab).................

I was gone with the beer fairies but I have it on amazing authority (Chris' girlfriend Jo) that we were amazing.  If only Chris hadn't had the camera in his pocket the whole time. Curses.

Victorious we headed back for dinner and a quiet night in.

The fact that the first thing I said in the morning was "Did I eat dinner last night?" kinda sums up the evening.