The many airport terminals en route to San Diego — Frankfurt and San Francisco, in my case — are no matter, for the beguiling, seaside city with the same February weather as New Delhi is, quite literally, a breath of fresh air. I take it in deep gulps as plentifully as the Napa Pinot Noir, along with leisurely walks by the marina with its boats, and a quaint village with bars and shops. Gulls swoop past, looking for crumbs; pigeons coo and sparrows flit; there are ducks — I recognise mallards — and even a stray rabbit not unduly scared
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