|Snooki, from (New) Jersey Shore|
As he said 'Jersey Shore', I actually did not think of that reality show filled with seemingly dim, overly tanned men and women who then went on to garner quite a lot of money endorsing products and such. I did, however, think of summertime, family outings, and carnival games. When I told him that I was from California, he said, "Oh, California! What part? I got a buddy who's stationed in San Diego. I hear it's really nice there. The weather is like always 75 degrees there." When my partner said he had grown up in Colorado the response, less enthusiastic, was, "Uh-huh."
Does it really help to explain where you're from? People, based on whatever ideas they've received about your home, will think what they like and go from there.
There were a fair number of other college kids from across the USA also living in my German dorm during my year abroad. It was always interesting to note the German students' reactions when us foreign students said where we were from.
"I'm from Wisconsin." = tepid response/non-response
"I'm from Florida." = enthusiastic response of some sort, so this may have been before the spate of car-jackings on German tourists by Floridian criminals.
"I'm from South Dakota." = same response received as the dude from Wisconsin
"I'm from California." = "Ah, Baywatch!" "Ah, Los Angeles!" "Ah, Disneyland!"
Mind you, these three typical responses touch, in no way, my experience of life in California. The weather where I am from is not conducive to rescuing drowning victims in the ocean while looking hot in a one-piece bathing suit. LA is approximately a seven hour drive south from my home town. -sorta like a "double decaf non-fat latte" order: Why bother? It was not until the death of my father, when I was 32 years old, that I thought I'd finally go check out what all the fuss was about Disneyland. Let's just say that the signs posted at entryways for most of the rides should read "If you're over this height, then you'll be bored outta yer fecking mind if you get on this thing."
Summer in Pacifica or This is not San Diego
Summertime, for me, meant overcast days spent at our local beach, Linda Mar, in a turtle neck eating sand-sandwiches cuz it was usually so darn windy out. Venturing out to Coyote Point in San Mateo (another family-outing spot) was much the same experience with just a bit more wind and sand.
|Overcast Fog Fest|
Early-Fall or Actual Summer
This time of year in Pacifica often ushered in slightly warmer temps. The fog would have normally burned off by early afternoon, and we'd be treated to a couple of weeks of Indian Summer, our warm weather period.
Pacifica's annual "Fog Fest", held at the end of September, was hardly ever foggy. I guess the organizers should move the event to anytime between June and early-August for a grayer experience, but, I'd imagine, that they don't want folk not to show up.
Suffice it to say that really no time during the year was the right time to put on a red one-piece bathing suit and bounce down the beach, hair waving in the breeze and warm surf lapping against one's toes. Pam Anderson would have frozen her derriere off if she'd tried to pull that shit at Linda Mar.