Autobiography Dieter Rolf Fischer Book 6 ALL IN HIS HAND I Archive: Book 1 I Book 2 I Book 3 I Book 4 I Book 5 I Index Copyright 2002 - 2007 I Text and Photography by Dieter Rolf Fischer, unless indicated I Above photos: Telstra
2. What matters really
Why do they call it Good Friday, the day the Christian World remembers the awful events surrounding the death of Jesus? On Friday morning 6/04/07, however, this was not the foremost thought on my mind. I had been up at 3.15 am to fly to Los Angeles, California via Melbourne, Australia. All had gone smooth that morning. There was very little traffic as my wife drove me to the airport.
Pulling my little black suitcase through the carpark, I could not help noticing a registration plate, not far from where we had parked. The plate consisted of 6 letters, which I rearranged to read: ALLISV - ALL is Victory. Of course, I did not share such thoughts with my wife. Just as she was not joining me in this lengthy overseas trip, I was on a lonely journey, a world of strange codes, which she was not willing to share with me. It had taken some time, before she realized that, as in my pervious two excursions, she could do little to prevent me from going.
This little word ALL, the L together with LA, had followed me for years. It crossed my path initially on 01/02/03 under very unusual circumstances. Two months later I had travelled to LA, hoping to find a listening ear for what was burning in my heart. At the time all I wanted was to tell someone the unusual events surrounding it all, if you pardon the pun. I was not successful back then.
Likewise, during a second, similar journey in 05 I again had experienced much magic, both before, during and afterwards. Still I did not find somebody, who was really interested and seriously considered what I had to say. Was I not pushy enough, was my story not interesting, supernatural enough?
This third attempt in 07 co-incited with Easter. Looking back, the dates proofed to be perfect timing. Right through my journey, on many occasions I felt that I was living God's perfect plan, executed in precise timing. If there is anything to boast about, it is what HE has done, nothing I did.
My wife is not one to show emotion. Our good-bye was a kiss, a hug and see you in six weeks. On the short hop from Adelaide to Melbourne, I sat next to a young couple from Kobe, Japan. If I had not known it before - I knew now that I would be ok.
Waiting for my international flight at Tullamarine airport, Melbourne, I wrote my diary: "How will I cope with this? Lord, I really need your help". Despite having all my accommodation booked or arranged with friends along the way, there was still an element of the unknown. What was God going to do on this third trip? How would I cope? I needed HIS help to stay sensitive to his guidance. The simple word TRUST was and is still one which calms my mind, when fear knocks at the door.
Having claimed that God directed me to take this trip, I needed HIM to direct me specifically, what HE wanted me to see and how to interpret what HE showed me.
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Two examples of data, which crossed my path:
Top: Chrysler Raider - I C 486 / Car No. 53 taken while waiting at a bus stop.
Bottom: A Ford pick-up truck, OH ERIN, during an evening stroll near my Youth Hostel.
As regular readers know I do not search out codes. They cross my path, I take note and/or a photo. I don't have the latest digital camera, otherwise I would have taken, or tempted to take, hundreds more photos.
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My flight was scheduled to depart at 11 am from Gate 11. There was an annoying delay. At first 20 minutes, then 30, stretching to nearly an hour. Knowing I would be sitting in a crammed seat for 14 hours, I filled in the wait, walking through the airport terminal, looking at anything and everything. As the delay dragged on, I suddenly had a thought. What went through my brain may sound arrogant, but it is the truth and went something like this:
"What is it they are waiting for? What if they are waiting for me to do something ...? If so, Lord, you have to show me what it is.
With this thought I turned and walked a few steps over to a bookstore. On a low-down shelf, which faced the departure lounge, I noticed a book by Tim Winton. It was called The Turning. I picked it off the shelf and started reading the cover. I had not even finished the first sentence, when the call came over the loudspeakers that our aircraft was now ready for boarding.
Another rather unusual aircraft incident occurred on my return journey. Only two hours or so from our destination, Singapore, the captain announced that a passenger had taken ill. The decision had been made to divert the flight to Bangkok.
When I checked the flight path on my small TV screen, I noticed the location from where we had to divert. The aircraft was right over the Andaman Islands as we turned sharply north-east towards Bangkok.
Anybody who has ever done the long haul across the Pacific, from Australia to the US mainland, knows how tedious the flight becomes. Regrettably, most ears on the flight were connected to a some gadget or another, which limited conversation among passengers. I mostly enjoy it when a fellow passenger shares his life with a complete stranger. But who would want be earbashed by a whistle-blower, about a man in jail innocently, or sit and be lectured about sin and death or heaven and hell?
For entertainment I selected the Comedy Channel to listen to 'The Great Debate". The segment was recorded during the 2006 Melbourne Comedy Festival. It was my kind of entertainment; not merely corny or dirty jokes, but spontaneous wit, which requires a certain amount of intelligence.
The subject of the debate still has me wondering as I write: "To come first is all that matters". That little word all again ...
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My 75 cent Hollywood souvenir
Outside the Universal Studios Complex in North Hollywood is a large shopping Mall, called City Walk. Strolling nowhere in particular I walked into a souvenir shop. When I saw above, I could not resist. The toy plane featured on its wings that day's date 7/4/07 (in Australia).
Those numbers had come up 3 times in July 06, on the morning I was to play the trumpet for the first time in a church in years. My odometer on the Suzuki had read ...7474, while the tripmeter at the same time showed 474. Then at church, only minutes later, I had the number 7474 again jump into my face.
Discussing my numbers fixation with my son recently, he pointed out that our human brain naturally makes connections and sees pattern. "What you see Dad is not unusual, not magic in any way", he argued.
I thought about this later and it made perfect sense: If God wanted to break into our world and influence our thinking, what better way than to use something very human, something very ordinary, such as patterns, links and codes and games with numbers?
Look how I played with the first 4 words of John 3, 16 yesterday: (Please remember V, L and D in Roman Numerals all contain the 5; also S = 5).
For God so loved ... 4 7 50 50 05 e 500
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Right from the moment I set foot onto US soil, I was constantly reminded that I had done it all before. Not only that, but my movements were recorded and publicly available, for all to read on this website. With this in mind it was unavoidable that I would be re-visiting certain locations, places I had written about. If somebody were to be watching, and I felt watched almost constantly, it would confirm what I had written about and experienced during Trip 2, was for real.
(That's why on arrival I walked out to the spot outside Terminal 1, where I had found a 1963 tag, while filling in time before my flight to New Orleans, see Chapter 1).
The first night I stayed at a hostel in Hollywood, very near the famous Hollywood Boulevard. I had googled the place on the internet and was surprise that for $ 25 one could find a bed in Tinsel-town, so close to the action When I arrived the room was not quite ready, so I left my luggage in the reception area and took a walk down memory lane.
Without questioning for one moment my path took me straight up the road to the Japanese Hotel/Restaurant and Bonsai Gardens. During my 05 visit I had met and taken a photo of a gentleman, a retired film producer, who lived in a large, old house (Book 4 Wind, Chapter 9). I considered knocking on that door, but then refrained. Instead I left one of my God has indeed worked miracles for us cards in the letterbox.
Not far up the hill, near where I had found a business card two years earlier, I saw another one. Whilst the earlier card was green and read Chris' Tree Service, this one was red and advertised Maria and Cristina's Cleaning Service. A little further on, still on the way to the Bonsai Gardens, I found another clue: HERNANDEZ (it may have been a business card, I can't recall). Just in case it had anything to do with IT, I left another one of my 'business' cards in the nearest letterbox.
I had also booked at this Hollywood location for the first night, knowing that in Orange County, without transport, there was little to do on the Friday and Saturday (apart from the excitement of Garage Sales, perhaps?)
Walking along Hollywood Boulevard I noticed the large sign of the EL CAPITAN Theatre. It must have had a few broken light bulbs or an electrical fault. Only the first part EL CAP was lit up. I took a photo, reading the letters as CLP and AE. (Just as I write I noticed the remaining letters - AN IT, Aha!).
The other letters, which I had to revisit on the Boulevard, were those on the pavement bronze star of actress Nicole Kidman. NI had not changed. The two letters still had a slight tilt, as before. (Book 3, Found, Chapter 40 - What co-incident, on the news this morning I heard today is her 40th Birthday!)
That night jet-lag was catching up, so I retired to bed early, waking again early for another stroll before leaving Hollywood. (This was not the time, I had heard the voice, as described in the previous chapter).
During this walk on Hollywood Boulevard I played a little joke on a page boy, outside the EL Capitan. I carried with me some cheap key rings to give as tokens of appreciating for small favours. These souvenir-keyrings consisted of clear plastic, under which were small pictures of an Australian Banknote - five dollars, ten dollars, one had a hundred dollar note.
I had asked the young man, all dressed in a red and white striped uniform, to pose for a photo I was taking. He kindly obliged, taking a few steps outside, to be photographed. "Let me give you five bucks", I said, as I fumbled in my bag for his reward. He looked a little surprised, because I probably didn't look like the big spender, giving such a generous tip for such a minor favour. I handed it to him, smiled and waved good-by as I made a brisk getaway.
Left: EL CAP... the theatre where 3 D rocks. (Aha, now I know. I put on my thinking cap to explain the missing letters - LA has been plagued by power shortages. Neon signs are allowed, but only five letters maximum.
Right: Outside the ...ITAN. An obliging pageboy, if this is what they are called, on Hollywood Boulevard. His reward five Australian Dollars, sort of.
That evening (7/4/07) I had a booking to see the final performance of the "Glory of Easter" at the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove. I had all day to get there, so decided to spend a little time in downtown LA. At the Spanish Quarters, Alameda, I watched an outdoor dance performance by children of the Armenian Community.
There was more buzzing surrounding another event held there, the annual Blessing of the Animals - food, trumpets, music and of course animals, mainly dogs of all kinds, shapes and sizes.
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Please note: At the time of first uploading this chapter ( on 20/6/07) a photo of animals was displayed here. However, permission was not granted.
Instead some tragic magic below:
Our Daily Bread Bible Study guide - April 7th 07.
Text: "In the twisted wreckage of a Metro-link train crash, fire fighters from Los Angeles Fire Station 27 found a message that brought tears to their eyes. A survivor of the crash, thinking he was dying, had used his own blood to write on the seat in front of him that he loved his wife and kids ..."
Ironically, that day in LA was the day I commenced reading from this study booklet. Plus, I was to read something inside this booklet, which caused me to add Melbourne to the end of my world-tour's itinerary.
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***Stop Press*** - 26/6/07: Researching on Wikipedia I read about a train crash at Glendale, Los Angeles on 26.1.05. It may have been the one referred to above. 11 people had lost their lives.
Another serious train crash occurred on 15/3/99 in Bourbonnais, Illinois USA. A truck driver tried to beat an approaching train. The death toll was also eleven.
There's more: In a very similar crash on June 5th, 07 a truck driver tried to beat a train over a level crossing near Kerang, North-Western Victoria.
On the news (while staying in Melbourne) I heard on the following Sunday that two huge transport trucks were moving the wrecked trains to Melbourne for closer examination.
What I could not understand was this: Why would a train need examining closely, when clearly human error was to blame? The truck driver, who took responsibility, miraculously survived the crash. He worked for CANNY ... uncanny!
The death toll was also reported as eleven!
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While I had the opportunity I went to the main Library in LA and sent an email back home. (While my emails arrived back home OK, for some inexplicable reason, those they sent to our email address, I was unable to access).
Walking through downtown LA I briefly watched a film crew shooting. It was quiet a large operation. Police had closed off the whole street, which was full of film crew, vans, cameras, tripods, spotlights, cars and gadgets, etc. I enquired with a crew member what it was all about. He told me they were producing an ad, a Korean Internet ad (KOREAN = RE AN OK).
The public transport route to Garden Grove, my next stop, took me via the Disneyland bus terminal. While waiting I had time to observe the comings and goings. One taxi driver stood outside his taxi. He looked so much like Mr. Singh, the taxi driver I had befriended during my first USA trip four years earlier. Even if it were him, how would he remember me?
One registration plate, among many that went by, I had to record in my diary: 5 WQN 096 The postcode of our suburb, Para Hills, is 5096. It won?
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350096 motorcycle registration plate?
Top: It seldom happens, but my brain does not recall having taken this photo (hence the question mark)
Angels live (on FSN West). I assume the Angels are a sporting team. Maybe I even saw: Angels live, then the postcode for Para Hills with 30 left over?
Bottom: 3 angels in a row - triplets in one pram, outside the Saddleback Church in Laguna Hills. (Photo with permission).
Just as I write this, how timely, I see in my journal - a lady at the visitor's desk of the Saddleback Church wore a nametag - Mrs. Angell. She was standing only a few meters from where I took above photo.
3 in a row reminds me of a weird 4 in a row experience: On Sunday morning 17/6/07, as I was writing my diary, I watched James & Betty Robison's Life program on TV. Their guest Becky Tirabassi came on. In her first sentence she spoke the words: "four in a row". At that very moment I was writing them into my diary. (I had received ... 4 emails in a row ...)
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After checking into the Motel near the Crystal Cathedral, the same I had stayed before, I was flicking through the TV Channels. Among the many choices I happened to take particular note of two things:
One, a News report on ABC Channel 7. A bat, supposedly carrying the rabies virus was found at ... Something about this headline sounded strange. At first I could not put my finger on it. Then it came - the backdrop to the news item showed two words in large letters - BAT FOUND. The title of my third book came to mind - But now I am found.
I took it as 'But found', turning a into u (Au..stralia), and read now backwards to arrive at the code I saw (see below).
Secondly, while watching TV, I came across an interview on CNN with Pastor Rick Warren, the author of a few books about 40 - 40 years on purpose, 40 days of military service (just kidding). Little did I know that I was to see the man in person the very next day.
For the moment I wanted to tell somebody that I had cracked the code on the ABC 7 - It read: I AM WON. What better place to pay a visit to Devon Street, the place I had been to two years earlier, visiting a garage sale. I found the house, walking via Feldner Street. I wrote the code on the back of my business card 'God has indeed done miracles for us' and left it at that address. (I have a faint recollection, my dairy does not specify, I placed it on the windshield of the vehicle in the driveway, unable to find a letterbox).
That evening I took the short walk from my motel to the Crystal Cathedral and watched the Glory of Easter, the final performance of the two-week season. I felt rather lonely, sitting on my own, not sharing this magical performance with someone. During the grand finale angels dressed in white floated above the auditorium. Two horses, real live horses, were part of the act. One passed by my aisle seat rather closely. No doubt, the Americans do IT in style.
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Ernst & Young Plaza, Downtown LA
This was the third trip across the Pacific for the Quicksolver 'Ben Mitchell' bag (in the foreground).
I had been to the Ernst & Young skyscraper on my first trip in 03, trying unsuccessfully to contact an employee, whom I had met at Riverside.
The stepping stones were new to me: among the pavers were tiles with words: The first one read TOUCH, another HERE then HEAR & HOLD. To the side were the words LIVING & YOU.
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The next morning I woke, without alarm clock, at 5.50 am, with just enough time to arrive for the early service at the Cathedral. For Christians Easter Sunday morning is one of the most significant times on the Christian calendar. No scene in any movie, drama or screenplay rivals the moment Mary Magdalene became aware that her beloved Master was alive. Only two days earlier she saw HIM hanging dead on a cross. Now HE was talking to her.
My motel and the Cathedral were on the same side of Chapman Ave. It was barely daylight as I left the motel room around 6.15 am to attend the 6.30 service. For some reason, I believe it was a thought from God, I crossed the road, just for a change, and walked toward the Cathedral on the other side.
There was little traffic. During the day I would not have crossed, unless I was using traffic lights. On the pavement on the opposite side were some sandbags, left after minor road works. In large letters I read the manufacturer's name: SADDLEBACK.
That's interesting, I thought. Last evening I had seen the Pastor of Saddleback Church on the TV, now I see this name, after having crossed this road for no real reason. Or was there a reason?
A little further on, back on the other side of the road, out of the corner of my eye I saw something, which stopped me in my track: At the edge of a big parking lot, outside a large trailer, a small tree had fallen over. It was nothing, really. But I recalled having written about seeing a fallen tree and having put it straight again (Book 5, Realm Chapter 25).
On closer examination, the tree was inside a clay pot, which had broken into three pieces. There was virtually nobody anywhere, so I spent a few minutes, trying to put the clay pot back together again. I managed it in the end, but not before braking another piece first.
As I walked away, I noticed that a man, possibly a security guard, had been watching me from a distance. I couldn't shake off the feeling, I was meant to see that clay pot and put together the three broken pieces of clay that Sunday Easter Morning.
The small distraction failed to make me late for the service. It was only a small crowd that morning. Robert III, grandson of Dr. Robert Schuller senior, gave an inspiring talk on the subject of the risen Lord. His dad took the rest of the service, while 80+ year-old grandpa had an excuse to sleep in (OA).
What stood out during that morning's service, and spoke to me strongly and personally, was the seed the young preacher showed, to illustrate his point. I saw the word seeD (sic) differently.
The way I had earlier stumbled onto the word Saddleback gradually grew into the thought and prayer: Is this where I am to go today? At first I was not even sure, if the Saddleback Church was in LA. But I soon found out it was, and not that far away in the Laguna Hills area. I had no firm plans for the rest of the day, so what was there stopping me to discover new territory?
It took 3 buses and many hours on the Sunday timetable to get there. The driver of the last bus was not really sure where Saddleback was, but he assured me that he would drop me at a large church, who has a college attached to it. He did. The place did not look anything like a Baptist Church; more like a Mormon Church. It was. I could tell by the short, clean haircuts and white shirts of the men.
A friendly man, appropriately named Kirk (church in Dutch), who had watched me, as I wheeled my black suitcase through their front door, motioned me to sit next to him. Since we were in the foyer, we had a great discussion, while a service was in progress inside. I honestly told him I was there by mistake, the bus driver had dropped me here, when I really wanted to visit Saddleback Church.
Not surprisingly we talked also about religion. He made his point very passionately, that the Mormon Church was the only one, entrusted with the original structure of the New Testament Church. I tried to find some common ground for agreement, because I can not accept any denomination's claim that they are the only proper church to represent Jesus Christ on earth.
I left after 1/2 hour or so, still hoping to find Saddleback Church. Earlier from the bus, I had spotted another church, Life Church, only a block further back, down the hill. It took only a few minutes walk. On the outside the place looked more like a Cafe. Their second Easter Sunday Service was just starting. It was much more what I was used to. I even knew some of the bright songs. I liked the Pastor's name - Tenney, plus the fact any visitor was offered his book The Ultimate Return for free".
I still had not given up on the idea of finding Rick Warren's Church. Somebody directed me, one block down, turn left, after another two blocks, cross the road and a bus goes directly to Saddleback Church. I found the bus stop, but no bus came. All the while, in the back of my mind, I kept repeating: Lord, if you want me there, you will have to provide.
Suddenly, a black pick-up truck stopped beside me. I recognized the driver. It was Kirk, who asked, if he could drive me. I gladly agreed. He seemed to know where we were going. It was a greater distance than I had thought, so we talked a little more about religion. Had Kirk not turned up, I would never have made it from the wrong church, to the right church, if you follow me. He dropped me right inside their huge carpark just before 3 pm.
Since I was really late, I sat outside in the heated area, with a view of the service inside through glass doors. To my surprise Rick Warren stood on the platform. He was preaching the final 15 minutes of his sermon.
Friends, it was not a matter of desperation to hear a 'big-shot' preacher. It was a matter of following my inner prompting, the guidance I had been operating under during this whole pilgrimage. What happens behind the scenes I may not know until another time or when time is no more.
After a good look around the church, a photo, (the triplets above) and a coffee and snack at their cafeteria, I had to start my long track back. I was hoping there would be a bus.
The Saddleback church was far to the south of LA. To say I had gone the extra mile to get there was an understatement. To get to my Hostel in Santa Monica, where I was booked in, took a number of buses, a train and 5 hours to get there. I did not mind. Passing certain points, such as Long Beach or the huge sign EA GAMES, just south of Santa Monica, brought back memories.
The next day I did what I enjoyed more than hiring a car to go sightseeing, hire a bike. It was again perfect weather to cycle down memory lane, meaning, up Montana Ave, a coffee at the Blue Plate Restaurant, an excursion to Marina De Ray, via Venice Beach etc.
One place I specifically revisited was 'The Warehouse', the posh restaurant, adjacent to the Marina. Just in case anybody doubted my find two years earlier, I left one of my $ 50 key-rings, attached to a business card, in the same flowerpot, where I had found the card with the number 19 on it (Book 4, Wind Chapter 8).
The most outstanding find was a Land Rover LR3 in the suburb beyond Marina del Ray. Something looked odd about the parked vehicle, which made me turn and take another look. When I saw it was outside an apartment, No. 9036, I noted the name of the dealership and determined to later pay a visit.
Their phone number started with 301 and ended in 51, which tickled my Da Ninci coded brain. When I got there, I saw a shop nearby called Once again. This confirmed, in my eyes, that I had arrived at the right place - once again.
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LA Times - the date was in the first word 9/4.
While having a coffee at the Blue Plate Restaurant I browsed through the LA Times, Californian Edition. On page B4 I read above report about the unfortunate 94-year old woman.
Insert lie (minus e) into Region to create Religion.*
It all sounded so vague - No name, no cause for the blaze, no details on property damage. I saw numbers and the name Hicks (Ave).
A man by that name arrived back in Australia a day after I did, exactly one month ago today, on May 20. The alleged trainee terrorist David Hicks has been locked up since, in the same G-division of Yatala Labour Prison as Peter Liddy.
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*The very latest! As I typed this sentence on ABC's 891 program, the presenters told of a lady O'Connor, who had changed from singing heavy rock to religious music. She was still singing her song: "I don't know how to love him", from Jesus Christ Superstar, as I was emailing the radio program at 10.50 am, on 20/6/07).
Insert li (plus e) into Region to create Religion.
Just as Dave and Matt were talking about Sinaed O'Connor I heard him say the word religion, I was typing the above sentence. All co-incidence?
PS I hear of people changing from drugs, crime etc after finding out about Jesus. How many have turned from drugs after reading Dawkins' God Delusion?
(Actually, on editing I corrected my thought. It should really read: insert lie (minus e) ...
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Cycling up Montana Avenue I noticed a real estate sign. An open inspection was held nearby. I paid a visit. The empty flat was open, but Christine T, the name of the agent on the sign, was not present. Well, I was not a serious buyer anyway, even though I liked the area.
On or near Princeton Ave I noticed a large, squashed lemon in the middle of the roadway. A nearby parked car, the registration plates included DR and 315, was also worthy of one of my business cards under the windscreen.
The roads around Montana Ave are mainly arrange as checkerboard, which created many intersections. One single intersection, however, stood out. It was the only one in the whole district, what I visited anyway. The corner Washington and 26th Streets had a roundabout installed, a rare site in LA. On the previous trip I had seen one in Seal Beach, also claiming it was a rare site.
Streets and street names have played a significant role in my books. This should not surprise anybody, since I live on Goodall Road. But nowhere did it show more than during my brief stay in San Diego, two hours south by train. It was totally unplanned, how names of streets, even the suburb I stayed in, matched my Da Ninci code.
May I stress that I had chosen the hostel in San Diego for no other reason, than the positive review (like, quiet location) it had received on the internet. The surprise in street names came afterwards.
The 53-bed International Hostel is located on the corner Udall and Worden Streets in Point Loma. But I discovered another remarkable corner in that suburb during a brief evening sunset stroll:
Point Loma, San Diego.
Criminal beware! Corner Xenophon St 3500 and Clove St 2300. South Australians know, if anybody, the independent MP Nick Xenophon is the one to scare criminals. C. Love it.
More surprising names in the San Diego suburb of Point Loma: Udall St and Worden St, the location of my hostel.
From the end of Xenophon Street I had a superb view over San Diego toward the lovely harbour and skyline, lit by the soft, orange light of the setting sun.
Perhaps I could learn to become a proper travel writer and describe things that really matter? (Like coming first?)
Oh, I nearly forgot. In the small courtyard garden of the International Hostel was a stone plague: I TRIED BUT IT DIED.
They never said what they tried, nor what it was that died.