Travel Biography - Week 64.

A Source of Joy in the Basement.

Unless specified, all photos are my own, taken in 1995.

Having arrived in San Diego for the first time in 1995, I have rated this city the best I had ever visited in the North American Continent. I was impressed with the aesthetics, especially in its shopping mall and Balboa Park. Furthermore, its location on the Pacific Coast at the southern end of California, just north of the Mexican border, allows for the semi-tropical climate with its array of palm trees to enhance its vista.

The YMCA building housing our hostel. Stock photo.

The HI-AYH-affiliated hostel was on a single floor in a ninety-year-old former military base which was either owned or rented out to the YMCA, which in turn, had sublet its third floor to the hostel owners. For me, this was the hostel I had enjoyed staying at more than any other, and memories of it lingered for years afterwards. There was no mandatory duty or nighttime curfew, as with all British hostels. Here, I actually felt more like a proper adult, despite that the 'Y' in AYH stands for 'Youth'. For example, if I wanted a taste of nightlife and returned at 2:30 AM, having access 24/7 was made possible by having my own bedroom key, like any hotel. Also, the kitchen had round-the-clock access. One night, at two in the morning, I couldn't sleep. So, scantily dressed, I went to the kitchen to warm some milk. Both of these occasions would have been out of the question at any YHA in the United Kingdom.

I shared the bedroom with one other hosteller, an Aussie. One night, he, along with two brothers from Scotland, and I went on a bit of a rampage in the streets of the city, although that, for me, was something out of character. The following evening, the three of them went out again, but this time, I wanted to remain indoors and enjoy a quiet evening. It was during these small hours, with my roommate not having yet returned, that I needed to go to the kitchen.

However, the social atmosphere, particularly in the combined kitchen and dining room, was excellent. That is what made the hostel so memorable. One guest has spoken to me about a gym, a swimming pool, a jacuzzi and a sauna - all in the basement. Therefore, the descent down a few flights of stairs to the sauna from our bedroom forever held the record for the shortest journey I ever had to make to reach a spa suite from home!

Entrance to SeaWorld.

During my stay in San Diego, I made two trips downstairs for a swim and sauna. Indeed, there was a fee to pay at the basement reception, but as a resident, I had a discount, thus the fee was quite cheap. A towel was also loaned to me at the desk. I saw that the basement of the YMCA had a gym with its own running track within its perimeter, an unusual setting. The lower basement where the indoor swimming pool was located, and a male staff member reminded me that my long hair needed to be ponytailed. Furthermore, he actually tied my hair himself.

Within the same room as the pool, a warm water jacuzzi blew tiny bubbles into a square masonry tub, thus, tickling rather than massaging my back, and at one end, a sauna cabin with its upper section built almost entirely of glass kept the air within at a constant 100 degrees Celcius.

I rate that Californian sauna top-class! Other than the two in my home town of Bracknell - Coral Reef Waterworld and the Leisure Centre - and also aside from San Diego, I have visited four others, two in the UK and two others overseas. Two were very good - the sauna at a holiday camp in Shanklin, Isle of Wight, and at the Technion, Haifa, in Israel. The other two were rubbish, unable to maintain a proper temperature, the sauna complex at one of the Center-Parcs, and the rooftop sauna in Sydney.

I had a good swim in the pool before trying out both the jacuzzi and sauna, taking up most of the afternoon.

Visiting Sea World - A Taste of Child Psychology.

During my six-day stay, I didn't confine myself to the city. There were four venues I called, all outside town and all recommended by other hostellers. One was SeaWorld, a bus ride north of the city, Mission Beach is next to SeaWorld, the Old Town, also a bus ride north of town, and Tijuana in Mexico, reached by the trolley tram, a light railway linking San Diego to the borderline terminus of San Ysidro. 

View of the Dolphin Theatre from the Skytower.

Soon after breakfast, I boarded a bus for SeaWorld, an oceanarium separated from the ocean by a narrow strip of a peninsula, Mission Beach, almost enclosing a lagoon entirely, except for a narrow entrance harbour. This lagoon is Mission Bay, and SeaWorld is built on a stub of land jutting into it.

In a way, I could rate SeaWorld as a marine version of Disneyland. At least the two parks share the same entrance fee, in 1995 both were $30 per person for a day. Since 1995, the theme park has grown more like Disneyland as new fun rides were apparently added after my time there. According to Google Maps, at least three roller coasters have been installed since my second visit in 1997. They are Journey to Atlantis (a water chute), the Emperor, and the Electric Eel.

During my two visits, the theme park was already graced with the Skytower, a rotating observation capsule that is boarded at ground level before rising to 98 metres to give a magnificent view of the park. I took advantage of the ride while I was visiting. But what with the roller coasters?

Dolphin tricks. It splashes, I was splashed.

Back home, I recall a day trip with Ascot Baptist Church to Thorpe Park in Surrey during my bachelor days. Once just a quarry lake, since then, it has grown into a fully-fledged fairground with a variety of different rides. After we had all boarded the coach parked in front of the church entrance, one of the elders who organised the trip announced to us all,

After some fun on the rides, we can go and see some farm animals.

He was referring to the Celtic farm that was, in the early 1990s, still included in the park's attractions. However, immediately, his own eight-year-old son suddenly cried out loud and clear:

Oh! How boring!

Thankfully, his father didn't reprimand him in public! But this could be one of the reasons why the need for roller coasters in a park that was meant to exhibit marine life. That youngster in the coach seemed to reflect the attitude of many children who see such venues as 'too schooly' when, especially on a Saturday, they want to disassociate from anything educational and instead, enjoy some fun. Hence, Thorpe's sister park, Chessington Zoo, of my boyhood days, had grown into the Chessington World of Adventures with a large variety of fun rides. Therefore, in a State like California, an excellent opportunity was opened to usher in further, more exciting and dramatic entertainment and attract more customers.

The Orca Whale. It gave me a thorough soaking!

A Paradox in Paradise?

But on my first visit to Sea World, I was solely interested in the marine life. But far from being dull and 'schooly', paradoxically, I had both a wonderful and troubled time, yet learned a lot. And I was appropriately dressed in a vest and shorts in the warm sunshine. At the dolphin display theatre, I found myself sitting in the splash zone. I was thinking that a drop or two of water on my singlet wouldn't harm me whatsoever. But after the show got started, indeed, I ended up wet through to the skin! The splash zone? Maybe the dolphin was having an off day. But I didn't mind. The seawater was acting as a coolant in the warm sunshine. After the show ended, I was free to buy a bag of chopped raw fish and hand-feed the dolphins. It was a unique experience, but I had to watch for the birds which were too eager to swoop down and snatch away the fish.

From the Orca, also putting on a show for the audience, along with the screaming seals, the peaceful aquarium housing moray eels was indeed a moment of tranquillity, with just the right soothing music playing non-stop from the speakers installed nearby.

Tranquil. Moray Eels.

Another marine life I found inspiring was the shark aquarium, the manta rays, the giant starfish, the penguins, the turtle pen, and even the flamingos. However, as already mentioned, I felt both joy and trouble, a paradox that was a surprise coming from a resort such as SeaWorld. So, what was troubling me?

The lives of the orca, the sea lions and the dolphins were all egged on to perform for the watching public. On the same day I received a soaking from the dolphins, I was again thoroughly soaked to the skin by the performing orca, even more so than by the dolphin. I couldn't help but think that this was their way of getting back to us, who kept them in captivity to entertain a gleeful public, instead of having the liberty to swim freely and without restriction in the open ocean, for which they were created, travelling vast distances, feeding when they need to and pairing up to mate and raise their young. And not for performing unnatural acts, maybe even unwillingly, but still encouraged by the rewards of constant feeding. In short, I felt sorry for these animals.

However, my interest in how the park functioned was fulfilled when I came across a couple of female staff members out on a break. This gave me a chance to speak to them and find out the ins and outs of the theme park. They were willing to talk to me. It looked to me that they appreciated an inquisitive customer like me with a journalistic bent.

At SeaWorld, 1995.

By asking them, I learned how the tanks operate to keep their stock alive and healthy. Their explanation was that it was no accident that Sea World was built on a strip of land jutting into the lagoon. Here, filtration pumps send the seawater into special tanks, hidden from the public, where it is cleansed from any natural impurities found in the ocean, along with the regulation of water temperature. The water is then pumped into the aquarium, they said, and then sucked out to be returned to the sea, taking all the waste the organism produces with it, hence the health of the organism is maintained. Also, divers periodically clean the inside of the aquarium to prevent any build-up of algae.

It was beginning to get dark, and people were streaming out of the exit. While most of them rejoined their parked cars, I headed for the local bus stop. 

Back at the hostel, my groceries awaited cooking before I settled down for a nice meal.

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Next Week: Mission Beach, the Old Town.