I’ve been to a few “Little Italys,” scattered across America. (Should that be spelled “Little Italies”?) San Diego’s is one of the pleasantest. I will tell you something curious about it: Its main drag is “India Street.” (I have never seen a “Little India.”)

(Again, I have never seen a “Little India” — but I’ll tell you this: In Manhattan, New York City, there is a neighborhood called “Murray Hill.” In one stretch, there are many Indian restaurants and shops. Some people refer to this stretch as “Curry Hill.”)

• San Diego’s airport is very near Little Italy. Planes fly overhead all the time — and low. Do people in the area notice? Probably not. After a while, the planes are like the birds or the breeze. Or the cars.

• Uh-oh — this is a nationwide plague:

There is no artist “da Vinci.” There is “Leonardo,” more fully styled “Leonardo da Vinci.” I have discussed this many times, and will not “relitigate the case” here. But I will give San Diego this: “da Vinci Days” is alliterative, and the ear loves alliteration.

• Okay, a bit more — more alliteration, that is:

• In Little Italy, some baseball players are honored — as so:

• Also honored is John Basilone:

Basilone, born in 1916, was a gunnery sergeant in the Marines. He was brave — legendarily so — in World War II. Medal of Honor. Navy Cross. Killed at Iwo Jima, February 19, 1945.

• In the Piazza Pescatore, they honor fishermen, as the name tells you:

• Momentarily, the name of this neighborhood is confusing, to me — makes me think of our nation’s capital:

• Have a close look at these flowers — don’t they remind you of woodpeckers? Maybe of Woody, in particular?

• Well, no mistaking this:

• Another neighborhood, the Gaslamp Quarter (more familiarly, just “Gaslamp”):

• The palate never tires of chocolate ice cream. (At least mine doesn’t.) The eye never tires of a red Ferrari. (At least mine doesn’t.)

• The Gaslamp is, among other things, San Diego Padres country. Here is a tribute to a great:

(Thinking about the Padres, I also think of Steve Garvey — maybe the first Padre I ever knew of. As a Detroit-area kid, I was an American Leaguer. The National League was exotic. But everyone knew who Steve Garvey was.)

• On seeing this, I can’t help thinking of my hometown of Ann Arbor, back in the day. (Sixties, Seventies.) Power to the People!

• Couple o’ Padres:

• You know one of the most interesting things about Barrio Logan? Its name. “Logan” does not go with “Barrio.” A little investigation reveals that the neighborhood is named after a 19th-century congressman, John A. Logan.

• At Ryan Bros, a piece of wisdom:

• Man, talk about memories:

• I’ve said the eye never tires of red Ferraris — nor of yellow flowers (mixed with white):

• Here is Kate Sessions, the “Mother of Balboa Park.” A botanist, horticulturalist, and landscape architect who lived from 1857 to 1940.

• The “Museum of Us.” Hmmm.

It was once called the “San Diego Museum of Man.” I have addressed the subject of “man” a million times, including here. That link is to an essay published in 2015. Allow me to quote:

“To each his own,” we used to say. We did not mean anything sexual by it. We were not referring to people with male genitalia. We were referring to people. So it was with the word “man.” “What is man, that thou art mindful of him?” “What a piece of work is a man!”

How about, “Man overboard!”? Would a woman, drowning, gurgle, “I am not a man!”?

My grandmother would sometimes say, for example, “I’m a Reagan man” (as opposed to a Bush man, in the 1980 Republican primaries). She was perfectly feminine, I assure you.

Anyway . . .

• The Museum of Art — what a glorious façade:

• I applaud the slogan, or ad copy, at the Museum of Natural History: “Everything from weird to wonderful to whoa.”

• I applaud this even more — ah, nature!

• May you live in such a house, wherever you live, and with whomever:

• Wouldn’t you like to be known as a “great and lovable character” (as it says on the plaque)?

David Charles Collier — a.k.a. “D. C. Collier,” a.k.a. “Charlie,” a.k.a. the “Colonel” — lived from 1871 to 1934. He was a real-estate developer, a civic leader, a philanthropist — essentially “Mr. San Diego.”

• Um — I think I better try horseshoes.

• Speaking of horses, this is a horse named “Diamond,” a sheriff’s helper:

• Near the waterfront, I see some Jehovah’s Witnesses, polite, well-dressed, and kindly, as usual. In 2017, that religion was banned in Russia. I think of three men I have just read about. These men, Jehovah’s Witnesses, were sentenced to seven years in prison, each. I hope they will survive. They are Sergei Korolyov, Rinat Kiramov, and Sergei Kosyanenko.

• This thing is gigantic — “Embracing Peace”:

I must tell you: I wish it were called “Embracing Victory,” or even “Embracing the Defeat of Evil.”

• I must tip my hat: “Frightseeing” is an inspired phrase.

• You like the look of the Santa Fe Depot? It was built by the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe, in ’87 (and I don’t mean the Reagan era).

• You like the look of this red ride (another one)?

• Oh, man: I fully endorse this sentiment:

As everyone knows, and has known for generations, San Diego is one of the most beautiful and delightful cities on earth. It also has its share of problems — who doesn’t? — and a major, major problem is homelessness. A scourge. I will explore that problem in a piece, upcoming — with accompanying photos. I thank you for joining me today and wish you all the best.

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