Friday, September 19, 2008


Nothing quite like tripe for breakfast.

We got back early as one doctor was not quite as cooperative as our producer had hoped. Terrible to try to get across the Mexican border on a Friday, lines of cars in miles of fumes, so we walked with all our stuff, feeling like something from a 1940's movie, Casablanca maybe, inching forward with our suitcases piled with gear - all we lacked was a live chicken. We caught the train on the other side (as there wasn't a rental car to be had either). I enjoyed it all tremendously.

A fantastic meal over the water in San Diego, watching destroyers and jetskis and yachts, one fishing boat and one tug, then we sauntered into the airport and caught a flight within thirty minutes and were at home on the Bay just before dark.


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