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:: Pacifica

Pacifica. It's a small town on the coast just south of San Francisco. We read that there was a Best Western hotel there that had a campy lighthouse attached to it, and figured that was about as good of an excuse as any to get us out of the house for a few days. We packed the Golf to the gills and joined the stream of cars. Perhaps we should have checked the weather forecast first. It was overcast, windy, and cold when we arrived in Pacifica, and it felt like winter the entire time we were there. That's the true NorCal coast for you.


The next day we met up with Tom, Betsy, and Johnny so we could check out the neighboring beach. While the water was too cold for us, there were surfers in wet suits all over the place. We walked up the beach for a while and then warmed ourselves up with a lunch at a place with a view. Later that day, while monitoring Benjamin's nap in the hotel room, a small mariachi band played for a little while in the hotel's courtyard, probably for someone's wedding reception. Kind of strange, but also interesting, if only because they didn't wake Benjamin up.


The last day we were there was as gray as the first. Amy tolerated my need to go for a short walk on a bike path that worked its way up the hill. Benjamin seemed ok with it all, once he was properly wrapped up in his stroller with warm blankets. Summer. Yeah, when you're visiting the coast you have to remind yourself sometimes that it's still summer and that you should be happy that you're not baking.

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