After a long time apart (two months), Laura and me reunited in San Diego. It was quite emotional for both of us since we realized there was much more to our relationship than either one of us had thought.

Getting back together again meant continuing where we had left off and now we could continue the process of building a life together.

I picked Laura up at the airport and we went back to the hotel I’d booked, on the edge of Little Italy. The location was great, but the Hotel, the Harborview Inn, had rooms that were extremely small, not much bigger than a shoebox, barely tolerable for one person and impossible for two.

In addition, in coming around a corner from the washroom, I misjudged the distance between the armoire and the bed and managed to break one of my toes on the casing, which led to some serious cursing, not to mention a lot of pain.

I was hobbling around for quite a few days after that, and had a lot of trouble depressing the clutch in my car.

And if that wasn’t enough, the mattresses were horrible. After two nights there, both of us woke up in agony. My back was screaming with pain and I could barely move.

I’d paid for three nights there but we’d had enough and gave up the room to move to a much more comfortable location at the Pacific Inn, close to the water.

What a difference. Not only were the beds comfortable, we had plenty of room, a great Internet connection and the ability to make ourselves belgian waffles in the morning. Sweet!

We wound up staying there for a couple of days more, and hung out in Little Italy for the most part.

This shot is of a fabulous pasta dish I had at: “Trattoria Fantastica.”

We also got some great info about driving the Baja from the clerk at the hotel, but the clerk was a bit too enthusiastic with her information and told us about the horrors of the drug war in Mexico, which unnerved us.

The one good piece she shared was not to stop for anyone on the Baja highway, not even the cute Mexican boy by the side of the road. Also, if anyone came up behind us with flashing lights (i.e. the police), not to pull over as they could be bandits.

We were advised to signal the car behind us that we would keep driving to the next town. Only then, we were advised, should we pull over.