My family never made a very big deal out of the 4th of July: our celebration amounted to watching lightning bugs compete with the fireworks sent up from the university campus nearby. But in 2005, I finally got to taste of the holiday at its all-American best. Living in San Francisco, my boyfriend and I were generously invited by a friend to spend the weekend in her family's house while they were away.

They lived in Half Moon Bay, an idyllic and quiet town only 40 km south of San Francisco. Lured by the magical-sounding name, we had driven here one Saturday in late April and discovered the harbourside Half Moon Bay Brewing Company -- featuring microbrews and a patio with seating around charcoal fires -- as well as Mezza Luna, a cosy Italian restaurant serving delicious pasta. We welcomed the chance to explore the town more, and when we saw our friend's house, we fell in love with it. It sat at the end of a dirt lane, and beyond it stretched green hills where the tinkling of goats' bells floated across the wind. The rooms were light and airy, the garden teemed with flowers, and the guest quarters came complete with a fireplace and good books.

We couldn't have picked a better place to relax, but getting around on foot was slow. Fortunately, we had the use of two sturdy bicycles borrowed from our friend's shed, and thus we discovered the coastal cycling path. Flat and paved, it runs parallel to the gorgeous Pacific coastline, northward from Half Moon Bay proper, towards Princeton-by-the-Sea (an enclave that includes a marina, the Brewing Company and Mezza Luna).

Along the trail we snapped a photo of a health and wellness centre that looked as though it was built from tree bark, a cottage from a centuries-old fairy tale. But we didn't, sadly, take any shots of the real gem: a used bookstore /cafe -- open only, I think, on weekends -- serving espresso drinks and wine for a small suggested donation. We found an entertaining chronicle of the history of Saturday Night Live, and read excerpts while sipping from our glasses on a porch overlooking the sea. The friendly, unassuming atmosphere of that spot made it a true highlight.

Monday was the 4th, and it kicked off with a red, white and blue parade down Main Street. We cheered with particular delight a truck full of red-legged frogs (or rather, eco-conscious humans dressed up as such). The float honored an endangered species that, having been discovered living in local wetlands, won the area legal protection from developers.

Later in the day, we got a lift to Pescadero -- just south along the coast -- to attend a barbeque put on by some friends of friends. As on the other days, the Bay Area's summer mists encroached to chill and dim the air, but this took nothing from the brightness of the people we met and only made the powerful ocean more dramatic to watch.

As darkness fell, the people of Half Moon Bay gathered up and down the beach, off Highway 1, to watch fireworks above the water. Our friend had returned by then with her family, and joining the children to view the display brought back the wonder and excitement I used to feel on the night of the 4th back home. It perfectly capped a weekend in which I found a new appreciation for the charms of small town USA.

Provided it's a small town like this.