Mmm. San Diego. Drink it in, it always goes down smooth. Discovered by the Germans in 1904, they named it San Diego, which of course in German means "a whale's vagina".
You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that one, when I was living downtown. San Diego is, in my opinion, a melting pot of sorts. It seems about 96% of the people living in or around downtown, aren’t actually FROM San Diego (myself included, I’m an OC girl). And everytime some Midwest group of boys in the military would hit on my friends and I, they would no doubt say “How do you like living in the whale’s vagina (snicker, snicker).”
only in San Diego
But my post isn’t about that. Its about my love for that place, and the year I got to live right smack in downtown.
I decided to move to San Diego after my best friend Kim lived there for about a year, and I needed a change in my life. So I moved into a semi large, brand new apartment, on top of a grocery store (super convenient). This place had a rooftop pool and a rooftop patio that overlooked the city. Lets just say I was living outside of my means, but oh was it worth it.
Everything is within walking distance. I mean I lived ON TOP of a grocery store. There was a Starbucks 3 blocks away (although that’s common EVERYWHERE). Hundreds of restaurants. Tons of bars. You could see Petco Park from my roof. You know, home to the best baseball team ever, the Padres (ha ha). My friends and I became “regulars” at a local watering hole called “Henry’s Pub” and got access to the VIP line. We thought we were cool (we still do).




