All sand is not the same

Okay. So I'm spoiled.

Once you've spent a summer at a beach like La Jolla Shores, the Atlantic just can't compare.

It's boringly flat. There's no surf. The shoreline is often slanted and it's difficult to stroll. And forget making a sand castle. The sand here is far too coarse.

Worst of all, the sun is in the wrong position.

The sun is supposed to go d-o-w-n into the ocean, not rise out of it.

Of course, I'm too polite to mention this to any native. No. I really am. Yeah, I forgot to doff my hat when I met Hillary (I was too flabbergasted), but my manners are too good to tell the white guy under the umbrella next to me that his seashore sucks.

He's probably waited all year to drive five hours to spend three days sitting on the sandy paradise he's enjoyed since he was a white little kid. I won't ruin it for him by explaining what a real beach is like.

Like how cool it is to bodysurf down a six foot wave and get thrashed in the turbulence and saltwater up your nose. Or the fun of taking your Labrador off his leash on Dog Beach so he can chase birds into the surf. Or the incomparable parade of brown--not white--bodies roller skating by on the boardwalk in PB.

And the anticipation, at sunset, of being lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the elusive Green Flash.

That buddy, is a beach.

But, instead of sharing my arrogant tutorial, I stand up on his coarse sand, walk down to his flat ocean and stick my toes in his cold water, humming along with Brian Wilson..."The West Coast has its sunshine, and the girls all have sun tans..."

I guess I'm just a West Coast kind of guy.

But Cape Cod is a storybook

Grey shingled houses with red doors. Charming streets. Charming storefronts. An architectural ethic so strong even people with no taste have the sense not to try to introduce stucco to their neighborhood.

And the light. The light is magnificent. No wonder so many artists have settled here.

The sunlight bouncing off Cape Cod Bay gives the whole pennisula an aura, making colors seem more intense. Blue-er blues. Greener greens.

A sound track plays in my head. Patti Page is singing: "You're sure to fall in love with old, Cape Cod..."