I really love Ocean Beach but it seems like since the Vine first opened I haven’t really been excited about any of the new places that have opened up since that… we have a lot of new bars mostly. Not even NEW bars but instead, old funky bars that have been renovated into nicer looking, more expensive bars that all seem to be carbon copies of one another. Anyhow, they are bars, and as much as I love bars, do we really need anymore in Ocean Beach? Not really.
So, I was pretty excited when I noticed, a couple of months ago, that a new “Cuban Style Patisserie” would be opening up on Newport Street. I think if it was just a “Patisserie” I wouldn’t have really cared, but it was the “Cuban Style” that got my attention. I’ve never been to Cuba, even, but for some reason this sounded really cool. In a situation similar to when the Vine was getting ready to open, I started stalking the place, waiting. I think I walked by every freeking day, waiting, waiting, waiting.
So Thursday, finally, Azucar opened! And I am still excited, because this place ROCKS. They have sandwiches made with Spanish tortilla! They have serrano ham! They have cupcakes! Unfortunately, they don’t have wine but hey, you can’t have everything.
Friday I had one of their cuban sandwiches for lunch, and for dinner, a potato croquette stuffed with meat filling. But the thing that really rocked my world that first day was a coconut flan. I have a serious sweet tooth, and I am especially fond of anything custardy or puddingy. Azucar’s coconut flan… well, let’s just say I don’t think I have tasted a dessert that good in my ENTIRE six years here in San Diego. The only thing that could even come close to this is the panna cotta at La Zucca in Venice, and I would venture to say this may even be better, due the big glop of coconut on top of the custard. YUM.
Yesterday I went back and got a custardy ham and cheese quiche thing baked inside of a croissant dough. This is something I would imagine eating walking down a street in Paris, NOT Ocean Beach. I seriously tried to get the thing home before I snarfed it down, but that didn’t work. So much for the three mile walk I took before I got there.
And for dessert last night, while watching Heima with firecrackers going off in the distance, I had my first cupcake from Azucar – coconut, with a beautiful chocolate butterfly on the top of it. I love custards, but cupcakes run a close second.
So this is all really dangerous, because I love this kind of stuff. Out of sight, out of mind, only it’s not so out of sight any more.
I took some pictures, but my digital camera broke yesterday. My pictures wouldn’t really do the place justice, anyway.
My new plan is, I can only go into Azucar on the weekend. The cool thing is, I still have two days of this weekend left.
Today is the 6th anniverary of my time living in Ocean Beach. It’s very foggy, and a little cold – not unlike what my home town of Half Moon Bay, up north, is like for much of the year. But this fog, “June Gloom” as we call it, does not last long here in OB. It lasts, for, well, June.
I sort of complain about June Gloom a little, but the bottom line is: I have always loved it here, even before I lived here, and I loved it more when I moved here. And now I seriously don’t want to leave OB. Sometimes I get a bee in my bonnet about moving somewhere more urban, because I really and truly love cities like Paris and New York and San Francisco – I love the little villages in these big cities, and I definitely love that you can get anything you could ever want or need there (though, with the internet, is that really such a biggie anymore? I mean, you can order practically anything on the internet now. Anything.) And I miss good public transportation, and reasonable taxicabs.
But in the end, I don’t want to leave this place, this little village I’ve made my home. Let’s face it – this urban girl has moved somewhere so low-key that many of the residents don’t bother to put on shoes when they go out. Which totally freaks me out, but I love it anyway.
Ocean Beach has changed a lot since I moved here. Six years ago, there was no Vine. Now, there are a few upscalesque bars where just six years ago, you couldn’t find a decent wine by the glass anywhere. For me, this is great – for lots of old-school residents, this is the Anti-Christ. But there is also a new tattoo place on Newport Ave. which goes to show you, the roots are still there.
It’s hard to explain, if you have never been here, the funky surfer fish taco vibe that permeates the neighborhood, and harder to explain the feeling of complete satisfaction I get walking home from the Vine, in summer with a pink sky above the palm trees, or in winter Orion blinking over dark streets and lawns that still have summer flowers. But let me tell you – everything is velvet here. Velvet with a beautiful edge.
Six years ago I checked into an empty room. Now, my life is totally full. I have a lot to be thankful for, so thank you, Ocean Beach, for giving it to me.
It is the middle of May, and I feel like I have hardly been at home this year. In fact, I haven’t really been home, but instead, on the road.
I used to really love the road. It didn’t matter whether for work or pleasure – I just loved it. All the new places, new experiences, even if they were kind of boring… but I don’t really love this any more. I feel a sort of melancholy when I am not in Ocean Beach, not at home. Unless I am in, like, Paris or something.
I spent this week in Las Vegas, the third time I have been there this year. I use to love Vegas. I mean, I LOVED it there. I loved the desert heat and the endless nights and the bizarre unreality of it all. I love drinking and gambling – I did then and I still do. But I don’t like Vegas too much anymore. I’m an old timer who can’t handle change, I guess.
Paying $100 for a wine that should cost $50 just pisses me off. Even if it is not my money. Someone has got to pay for all that construction, I guess.
The sun goes down while I sit in my high-rise room, and it is beautiful. That desert sunset kills me every time. But then it is 4:00 A.M. and I am playing blackjack where country music is playing really loudly. I hate the music but I am winning. The guy next to me is singing, but he is a happy sort and there are high-fives whenever either of us gets a blackjack. The couple next from me is from L.A. She wears a lot of makeup and we whoo hoo loudly, obnoxiously, a few times, mocking the table next to us. I can’t stop humming Jeff Tweedy’s lyric from “A Shot in the Arm” –
“What you once were isn’t what you want to be anymore.”
It suddenly occurs to me, that I am not really enjoying this. What am I doing here, anyway? It’s freeking 4:30 A.M. All the things I once loved, I don’t love now. I am in a spiritual quandary. Everything seems empty, and has for some time.
The next day, way too early, tired and lonely and sick from too many hotel rooms and too many rich meals, I drive to Hollywood, because I want to go to see Elbow, one of my favorite bands. That drive, while quite beautiful in it’s Mohave-eqseness, it absolutely fucking horrifying when you are tired and hungover and having a spiritual breakdown. I mean, it truly sucks. What else is there to do but think for hours and hours? It is the desert, hours and hours and hours of it. Heat and dust and ears clogged by descending mountains that don’t seem to be there.
Thank the gods for Hollywood and my friends Kathy and Marcia and David, and for the bottle of red wine I immediately opened upon arrival. Fueled by lasagna and Refosco, I was ready, at least in theory, for the show.
I got to the Avalon right at 8:00 when openers Air Traffic went on. I won’t say too much about them because I still feel bad about writing about the last opener Elbow had, and one of the members of that band read my blog and commented. I am not a critic, so I am not going to say anything. Let’s just leave it at I Was Waiting for Elbow.
It was an incredible show that totally changed everything back to the way it should be. Elbow came out and played the first song from the new record, “Starlings” (as I pretty much knew they would) and pretty much the whole band was up with a horn… I can’t really explain it, so check this out.
There were two songs I really wanted to hear from their new record, “Mirrorball” and “The Loneliness Of A Tower Crane Driver.” Well, they played both of them and let me tell you, these two songs are among the most stunningly beautiful songs I have ever heard. Live, they pretty much slayed me. The rest of the show was alternately jaw-droppingly lovely and totally rocking – on some songs, I almost put my boot heel through the floorboards. I was so happy. I can’t remember the last time I was so truly and completely happy. Looking around at the rest of the audience, everyone was happy. The band was happy. It occurred to me, gradually and then suddenly, that THIS is what makes me happy. Fuck Vegas, fuck the road, fuck the long drives. I’m here, now, watching this amazing band and everyone is happy. And there is fake smoke and a disco ball. I am in love again. Everyone in the building sings “throw those curtains wide – a day like this a year’d see me right.” Yes, it is true.
Of course, not every show has this effect, and not every audience is so into it, and not every band comes on and plays a perfect show. But when it all happens, it is the best thing ever.
There is a footnote to this perfect night – I was going to try to meet another music freak there, Elizabeth, who I collaborated with to get Radiohead tickets for their August tour here (basically by staying up all night hitting refresh on our computers.) At 6:00 AM when the tickets finally went on sale, she got three shows and I only got one before the Radiohead server crashed. So, I feel sort of indebted to her.
Anyhow, she had emailed me and told me that she really wanted a set list, because she LOVES Elbow, and that is sort of how I know her in the first place. So during the show I was standing next to a bunch of Elbow’s crew, and right before the encore I asked one of the guys if he could get a set list for my friend. I should admit here that I told a bit of a white lie – I said it was for my friend who was not there, but she WAS there, I just had not found her yet. It just sort of came out that way, I truly did not mean to lie. So the guy tried to get me one after the show, but other crew members were faster and the curtain came down and then I saw him with a cigarette so I figured it was a no go.
Went and found Elizabeth at the sound booth and we walked out, and we were at the door in a big crush of people, I mean ON OUR WAY OUT when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the crew guy, and he handed me a set list. He had come out and found me! It was an amazing thing to do.
So, crew guy, if you ever read this, you are a PRINCE and you did something that neither Elizabeth or I will ever forget. THANK YOU.
I drove home Saturday morning from Hollywood playing The Seldom Seen Kid and when Mirrorball came on I broke out into tears. It brought out every lonely moment and every purging of those moments; it brought out everything. And it felt good to cry.
I’ve got tickets to all kinds of shows this summer, but the one show I am waiting for is Portishead. They played Coachella, which I can never go to (and probably even if I could I wouldn’t) because of work. Unfortunately, they aren’t scheduled to come around anytime soon… but when they do I will be there.
There aren’t too many bands that can bring you back to a time and place, but Portishead brings me straight back to 1995, when their first record Dummy was pretty much on my CD player 24/7. I still listen to it at least once a month – it is one of the Best Records Ever.
Portishead kind of disappeared for a long time but now they are back with another truly incredible record – called “Third.” While it will never be “Dummy” to me, it is a pretty incredible record. So now I am waiting. In the meantime, I have youtube.
The crazy thing – I am going to see Britt Daniel do a solo show at the Belly Up tomorrow night, and I am not even freaking out. It totally sucks, not being in love, but on the other hand I’ll get some sleep.
I am in St. Augustine, Florida and it is hot. It must be a gazillion degrees in the summer here. This is the oldest continually inhabited city in the United States, and it is a pretty cute, but also extremely touristy, town. Basically I wanted to come here for a couple of days and not do anything, so that is what I am doing – not anything. Except walking around, reading, and sleeping. And drinking wine, of course, though so far I have not had too much good to eat. In fact I have mainly bad meals here, including one that I would have to say was the worst thing I have eaten since I was in another tourist land – Honfleur, in Normandy, France.
More about that later. I am staying at a cool, funky hostel with private rooms called the Pirate Haus. My room has one big bed and four bunks. The owner, Conrad, is a really cool guy who offers up wine, grappa and cognac, and last night we watched the City of Lost Children in the living room. They also have Bravo, so I get to watch Top Chef tonight! Unless someone else beats me to the remote.
I don’t really care about going out too much here – I like sitting on the roof deck (it sounds a lot more glamorous than it is, but it is perfect for me at this moment) with a glass of wine and a book, totally alone but with the sounds and smells of the other guests cooking on the other side of the kitchen window.
I feel comfortable at the Pirate Haus. I would definitely come back here, and could even bring friends since there are five beds in the room. At night it cools down and I open the window in my room all the way and listen to music on my little speakers. The night air here is sultry.
Tomorrow I head to Savannah for the Big Slowtrav Gathering, where I will see a bunch of my friends, and see another new place. I will try to check in from there.
Sometimes, when I travel, a city’s charm and vibe hit me right away, and I immediately love it. Othertimes, it takes some days to unravel the layers that make a place great. Madrid and Venice were “right away” ones. Barcelona and Florence were “takes some days” ones. I think the cities that take more time are almost more interesting in the end, because I am always waiting for that moment when it all makes sense, and I like that feeling of waiting. And I like exploring.
It’s like I was telling Bob & Margaret the other night, over some really great pizzas and quite a few glasses of wine, that I hadn’t quite crossed the threshold of understanding the essence of DC yet. I was still waiting for the epiphany, that moment when everything becomes awesome. Now, it is all about the epiphany. They keep asking me if it has happened yet.
Two days ago, I went to the National Portrait Gallery and Museum of American Art, and walked around Chinatown, and met some Slowtrav Peeps at Dino. I had this thought that I could go to TWO museums in one day, and voila, there are two museums in one building, and it was massive and took many hours and I did not even see everything there. It was a really great day and I managed to pack a lot in and also realized that one would need many months, if not years, to see all this stuff.
Yesterday the housecleaner came so I had to get out of here at 8:30, even before the museums opened. I went to Union Station and ate a corn muffin and watched all the commuters. That station is so cool. Yet, the epiphany eluded me.
I headed down to the National Gallery of Art and got there right when they opened. I was there for FOUR HOURS and I did not even make it through the whole thing – not even close. I was totally blown away – they have an incredible collection of Renaissance art there, not only from Italy but also Germany and the Netherlands and I love all that stuff. I was especially touched by the painting “Adoration of the Shepards” by Giorgione. The colors, the landscape, the torn clothing of the shepards… it’s a remarkable piece. And nobody was even looking at it, they were all in the room with Leonardo’s Ginevra.
So I guess at this point I was very close, because it dawned on me that if you lived in DC, you could go to the Natonal Gallery every day, even just to look at one painting. You could go in and look at a German painting with detailed depictions of life 500 years ago, for an hour or two, whenever you want. Because it is free!
After that I met up with Bob & Margaret and we walked up to Georgetown and had some oysters and welsh rarebit at the tavern where JFK proposed to Jackie O. But we wanted some better wine, so I looked in my DK book and found a wine bar in Georgetown called “Bistrot Lepic.” We had to walk up a hill, and I will admit I am very sore from all this walking, but the call of wine kept me/us going, to what seemed to be out of Georgetown, even. When we got to the bar, there was a blue door and a Parisian street sign. I wondered if they went to Paris and stole it, because it looked pretty damn real.
In the door, up those stairs, was where I finally had my epiphany.
Bistrot Lepic is AWESOME. If I lived in DC, I would want to go there all the time. THAT is where people should get proposed to. It’s a room that envelops you, with mood music, what looked to be comfy wicker chairs (we sat at the bar, which was very, very comfy, so I am assuming the chairs were the same) and gold curtains that moved in the breeze. In the back, there was a long table to seat twenty with cherry trees outside. We drank Burgundies (both white and red) and Rhones, and the sweet Bartendress Lucia poured us a little taste of a really good Languedoc. We ate country pate with an Armagnac soaked prune in the middle. I totally fell in love with the place. I am totally in love with it. We needed bread for our pasta dinner at home, so Lucia sent us out with an long loaf of French bread. She rocks.
Any city that could have such a cool wine bar, is, in my mind, a great city. There it is – the epiphany. Long in coming but now that it is here I plan to make the most of it.
Today we are off to the Cherry Blossom festival and more wandering, and tonight we are going to see EELS at a synagogue. Bob read my blog entry about this show and he is giving me a little bit of shit about the “movie” but I keep telling him that he will love it, especially because he is a scientist. As for me, I couldn’t pass up the chance to see E again…
I have visited lots of cities in the U.S. but for some reason, never Washington D.C. – until now. My friends Bob & Margaret moved here last fall, and I love, love, love their house which is in the Cleveland Park area. They have a cool porch and a fantastic, overgrown, crazy looking park across the street.
Right now the park is devoid of greenery and I desperately want to be here when it erupts into Spring. But, with only five days I don’t think that will happen.
Yesterday, on my own, I must have walked about fifteen miles (and, unfortunately, I am totally feeling that today – in my calves, my hips, pretty much everywhere.) I got off the subway at the Mall along with about five hundred school kids and their chaparones and parents. Thankfully, the Mall is pretty enormous. I wanted to go to the American History Museum, but it is closed for renovations or something. So I just walked, to the Washington Monument, all the war monuments, the Lincoln monument. Everything looked really close on the map! The sun was out, and it was very warm, and if there is one thing I have learned in my travels it is: If the sun is out, utilize it. So I kept walking. And another thing, I couldn’t get that image of Twyla Tharp’s dancers writhing in front of the Washington Monument in the film version of “Hair” out of my mind, or the lyrics to the song they were dancing to:
Prisoners in Niggertown
It’s a dirty little war
Three Five Zero Zero
Take weapons up and begin to kill
Watch the long long armies drifting home
I’m not trying to make any kind of statement here, except that I am the kind of person who can’t get lyrics out of their head.
In all my reading about this city I have come to be pretty interested in Pierre L’Enfant, the architect who laid out the plans for this city – basically, he had this grand plan to design a European style city in a swamp. I think he was kind of a pain and he eventually got fired, but this vision, and how it actually worked out, is very intriguing to me. So, I decided to go check out L’Enfant Plaza, which I was sure would be a really cool square with cafes and restaurants around it. Not. They need to make it grander, to reflect L’Enfant’s contribution to this city. It’s a 1970’s business park.
I got on the subway there and headed to the Eastern Market, because I love markets, and this one was pretty cool but not in the original building because I guess that one had a fire and they are restoring it (I think I need more current guidebooks.) Instead they have the market across the street in a big tent. Lots of butchers, cheese shop, etc. but it was freaking hot in there and it is only March.
On the way, this couple sat down next to me and when we got to the stop before Eastern Market, they asked each other “is this L’Enfant?” So I said, are you going to L’Enfant station? ‘Cause that’s the other way. They looked at me like I was trying to put one over on them. I repeated it. You are going the wrong way. I just came from there. They got out their map. So much for trying to be helpful. Keep going then, homies.
After the market, I walked and walked… through the Capitol Hill area which has some really cute houses, and a nice vibe, then to the Library of Congress and to Union Station. Union Station is awesome! I love old train stations, and this one has all kinds of shops and restaurants. I stopped at one and had a glass of wine and half an avocado with crab on top. It was just OK, but I really like it in there.
Now I was pretty tired of walking so I took the metro to Dupont Circle and, uh, walked around. Toyed with the idea of going to a bar that my friend Sue recommended called the Fox and Hounds, but arriving there it looked like more of a nighttime place so I kept walking and eventually came back to Cleveland Park and a nice glass of Pinot on the porch.
Last night we ate at the famous Dino and it was really, really good… fantastic fried artichokes, some killer halibut, great pasta with wild boar sauce.. Dean himself told us what to eat and it was all spot on. Had some good Nebbiolos, too.
Woke up to rain, and it looks pretty wet, so I’m off to the National Gallery of Art.
and when Mirrorball came on I broke out into tears. It brought out every lonely moment and every purging of those moments; it brought out everything. And it felt good to cry.
