After about 23 years of never venturing more west than Houston and a year of unsuccessful attempts while in the Far East, I've finally touched the Pacific Ocean.
That body of water with a gentler name has been eluding me while I've traveled around its rim through circumstances. In China, it was the Yellow Sea. In Thailand, although I was on the Pacific side of the country, it was the Gulf of Thailand. In Vietnam, I watched the sun rise over the South China Sea, not the Pacific Ocean. And after being convinced by Hagen in Vancouver that I shouldn't risk it and sticking my toe in the frigid ocean, we almost immediately found a sign reading "English Bay".
But finally. Today, I realized that the body of water lying west of San Francisco was labeled "Pacific Ocean" on my map. Further, the beach that it crashes into continuously is called "Ocean Beach". I was excited.
I hopped on a bus and headed down to have my first glimpse of that ridiculously large collection of water molecules.
It was dirty.
Apparently, the sand of the Pacific is not white, it's mud. The water was freezing, as should be expected, leading most beach goers to forego the activity altogether; there were hardly any people. I walked for a little while, but I got a little chilly and hungry. So I ambled up the hilly sand-mud to catch the next bus back to the city.
But now I've been..."Pacified". I can no longer say I've never touched the Pacific. And I don't think I could have picked a more beautiful city, maybe not beach, but city to do it in.