I have long had a deep-seated fear of the city by the bay, San Francisco. If you're a SF partisan, let me just tell you why, in a story just may frighten the pants off of you. It was 1999, I think, and I was in San Francisco for the annual meeting of the American Anthropological Association, a three-day event where the idea of a really good time is a biological anthropologist and a linguist getting together over lattes in the hotel Starbucks between panel sessions. I kid, but this is no South by Southwest. Maintaining my sanity meant using my meal breaks to get far far away from the convention center.

On this day, as I set out in search of lunch, a woman walked toward me on the street carrying a bag from Taco Bell. I regret to inform you that at this point in my life there were few things that I liked better than a couple of refried bean chalupas (like a gordita, only deep fried) from the Bell. I asked her where I could find some and set off.

I was a few block down the road when I heard the sounds of a street fight! Feet and fists hitting into human flesh, some yelling, and a low murmuring of general concern. As I turned the corner on to the main road, before me was this scene: a silver mime lying on the ground and curled up in the fetal position (one of those mimes who dress completely in silver and paint every inch of exposed skin with silver paint, like this). I admit, I hate those guys and their creepy metallic faces, but that's no excuse for what was happening to this one.

Standing one on the tummy-side and one of the back-side of the mime were two men, taking turns kicking him with such force that each kick lifted him them up off of the ground. In what was really quite a commitment to not breaking character, the mime lay on the ground in silence. As the men kicked, they yelled profanities, things that I just remember as "F--- you! F--- you!" I walked to the rather large crowd of people who stood watching and asked a lady what was going on. She said, "the mime hit on one of 'em" and rolled her eyes.

I still distinctly remember my thought at that moment: "damn, tough town." (This didn't end a la Kitty Genovese -- as I stood there, a couple cops arrived.)

I tell you all this now because Jane and I are planning a trip out to California this May and I'm looking for suggestions on places to go that don't include the land where gay mimes go to get their asses kicked.

Seriously though, I'm sure San Francisco is really a lovely city, but it doesn't really make sense to include it this time around, as we're starting out in San Diego to visit Jane's brother and only have 8 days for the whole trip. So we're thinking now that we may try to stay within the general San Diego, LA, and Big Sur (?) area and have started using out Rough Guide to make a list of some of the beaches and restaurants that we want to be sure to hit.

But neither Jane nor I really know much about California at all, so I'm looking for suggestions for some more knowledgeable people. So, if you had a car and a little more than a week to explore (Southern) California, where would you go?