Andy Jezuitski, San Clemente

When I first moved to San Clemente I remember being passed on the freeway by a car with a license plate frame that read: “San Clemente: Best Climate in the World.” The next day, in what I can’t imagine considering a coincidence, I saw a similar meteorologically bold license plate frame reading: “Capistrano Beach: Best Climate in the World.”

Being a new resident of San Clemente, I took great offense to this second license plate frame which, only a day removed from the crowning of my new hometown’s climate, had so boldly made claim for the throne. I thought to myself, “This will not stand,” and started an investigation.

The investigation was thorough. It had to be. I kept detailed notes. I noted when one town had a slight one or two degree Fahrenheit advantage over the other. Noted when it was cloudy in one town but not the other. Noted when a cloudbank started over Capistrano Beach and then, with the help of a northerly ocean wind, pleasantly blew south to cover San Clemente instead. I noted when the opposite happened as well.

Then I wondered—in an existential sort of way—if it was not better to have a few clouds than to have a perfectly homogenous blue sky. And this proved unprovable.

I found myself constantly distracted by such existentialisms. That is to say, I constantly had to remind myself of the objective: to determine which of these two sparkling cities, separated only by an imaginary boundary, has the best climate in the world.

Defeated, I abandoned the original thesis. It was only affecting my mental health (in a negative way).

That is to say, my original thesis was too small. I should not have been comparing San Clemente to its neighboring town, but instead to all the towns across the world. And I should not have focused in on only weather systems, but instead, on all qualities a town can have.

I formulated a new thesis: San Clemente is the best town in the world. I’ve found this thesis much more manageable. I collected all the concrete, non-existential evidences I could. And I present some of the most striking for you here:

One, the president of the most powerful nation in the world decided to live in San Clemente instead of in the White House. Two, Trestles is the only permanent World Championship Tour surf spot in the contiguous United States. Three, San Clemente is home to Greg Long, the only big wave surfer to win at the Eddie, Mavericks and Dungeons. Four, five and six, San Clemente has a train station, and a pier and, of course, (arguably) the best climate in the world.

About The Author Dana Point Times

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