I spent the first several days here pronouncing La Jolla like a midwesterner, until the guy at the car rental place looked at me with amusement and asked, “You know it means ‘the jewel’ in Spanish, right? In Spanish, the ‘j’ is silent.”

Ah, La Holla. “And the double-l sounds like ‘y.'” Yeah, I took foreign language in high school. Five hundred years ago.

Anyway, we drove there yesterday and enjoyed a scrumptious Italian meal, breathtaking views, and a kayaking adventure with Hike Bike Kayak. La Jolla is a sporting paradise — every other shop sells surfing equipment and offers lessons. We stopped at Surf Diva, and if I’d been a better planner I’d have scheduled myself some surfing instruction. As it was, kayaking was enough of a challenge.

Moon selected me as her kayak partner (we asked for two tandem kayaks), which she promptly regretted when I flipped us over just after we made it off shore. Neither of us could manage to climb back in, so the guide told us to drag the kayak back to the edge and we started over. Moon looked as if she wouldn’t mind staying on the beach, but she gamely took her position in the back of the kayak and we set off again.

By the way, salt water tastes terrible, and swimming while dragging a kayak is harder than it looks.

In some ways, falling in was a good thing. We were less nervous about something going wrong, and we didn’t have to imagine what it would be like to flip. We worked pretty well together. After paddling about a mile out, we ventured toward the caves and were treated to the sight of a family of sea lions sitting on the rocks. The alpha male was quite vocal and decided to take a swim. Our guide warned us not to get too close to him. Peter took his warning quite seriously and reprimanded his dad several times. His dad was more worried about heaving his guts into the ocean, having neglected to take his ginger before the trip.

Moon remarked how relaxing it was to be floating on the water, with the waves (those nausea-inducing waves, to Pete’s point of view) lapping around us. When we finally went back to shore, I was sad to leave the ocean and suggested that we come back and frolic. Peter readily agreed, since he had been very jealous when Moon and I were dumped into the water. “You’re supposed to get wet when you’re kayaking,” he told Pete. “We are still way too dry.”

So after we brought our paddles back to Hike Bike Kayak, bid our guide adieu and gathered our stuff, we headed back to the beach. Peter went chest-deep into the water, and I could easily picture him on a surfboard as he taunted the waves. I was thigh-deep when I looked down and saw a stingray next to me. It did that cool ripply thing with its wings/fins. Pete, who was a few feet away, said, “Look! There are four of them!” and I spotted the group. They were just inches away from my legs.

I freaked, and ran (leaped) toward the beach, praying that I wouldn’t land on any of the critters. As soon as I was safe, I decided I needed to see another one, they are that cool. Did I mention there were jellyfish, too? Lots of them. Some were beached. Peter decided to save one, with the help of a girl about his age and her trusty bucket.

Moon had seen a jellyfish earlier and thought it was a disembodied heart. She figured that the sea lions had been fighting, which seemed rather logical at the time.

Don’t underestimate the sea. And respect the kayakers. (Want to see more pictures? Here you go.)