New Orleans was not on the list of cities I wanted to visit in US. Probably because I was convinced that hurricane Katrina kidnapped all its charm, and everything that worth being admired was forever gone. I admit it, I was ignorant, but I abhor disaster tourism. I can see poverty and dirt anywhere! Any city in this world has a marginal hood, unhealthily, pity and indignation worthy! To waste my time eye dropping to other people’s misery it doesn't seam fare, nonetheless ethical. In conclusion, I didn't see any attraction in organizing a trip there.
So, when I found, through an online social network, that some of my former colleagues from college were flying over US this summer, I pitched in. We all decided in an instant to synchronize our calendars in the hope of a reunion. We got all our minds, schedules, days off and vacations, finances, nevertheless air schedules and fares together, and this is what came out: a Finish friend flew to Mexico for a backpack vacation, only to come back to EU through WashingtonDC, where she met a German friend and, coincidentally, another Norwegian friend (who was just passing through DC). In the same time, two friends from Austriadecided to take a road trip down the US East Coast along with a buddy from Vermont – from New York to New Orleans, where they were to meet another American friend who lives in NOLA. In the end, in one weekend we were all in two great US cities, which if they wouldn’t be so far a distance, they would have brought us closer. I..., I waited too long, I messed up my flight deals and I missed the DC meeting…, but I managed to get to the New Orleans, LA one!
As soon as I've got the invitation of visiting the city I jumped on a tour guide. Ah! Jazz, Blues, Creole French, colorful balconies, voodoo, fleur de lis, jambalaya, etouffée, buildings with flowery balconies, Louis Armstrong!!!... I was feeling like hundreds of bubbles with images I refused to think of were popping in my head at an alarming rate. Overwhelmed, I understood I will inevitably fall in love with this place. So I stopped, thinking not to expect anything but delicious typical food, great music, traditional drinks and wonderful people.
When the day finally came, I flew with my heart fluttering to Houston, TX, where I changed planes and where, for the first time in my life, I had seat 1A. Well, it wasn't First Class(!), but the first seat given in the smallest regional airplane I ever flew. It was literally behind the pilots' door. However, the window offered an extraordinary view! From Houston to New Orleans you fly only on the coast, above the Gulf of Mexico, which has a wonderful nocturne view. I think is even better then the one seen between Romania and Spain, when you fly over Croatia and Italy, where you can make the boot’s shape as on the map due to the millions of lights in the night, only to be welcomed by the light explosion in the port of Barcelona. In the same way I could distinguish the South American coast, and when we've got over NOLA I could even see how neighborhoods are mapped, how the Katrina affected area is still in the dark, how Lake Pontchartrain lays in the north, and how the Mississippi river snakes to the gulf.
In the Louis Armstrong airport, his music was waving slowly from speakers, making my steps much lighter. The announcements transmitted usually in English and Spanish, were this time tripled in a beautiful and sweet Creole French, which made me smile instantly when I surprised myself trying to understand the words. Outside, I met the humid, subtropical heat, which opened my pores and allowed me to breathe and relax my muscles. Twenty minutes later I noticed that the mute cabdriver was taking me with the meter off through some empty streets, in some untrustworthy neighborhoods, where I couldn’t read the streets numbers nor names.
Exactly before I was about to panic we finally reached the destination – my friends' house, which seamed to be at the right address, but sunk in dark. The entrance door was open. I went in. Still in the dark, I could see the stairs that went on the next floor. I stepped without thinking where I could end up. Reaching the top of the stairs I saw another door. So, I approached it. Only in front of it I realized I cannot make up anything on the other side, and it hit me that I could trespass a private property. Shockingly, I was not scared I could get shot. I was freaked a wild dog might attack me! However! The moment I touched the doorknob the lights went on and I saw my friends, again, after four years. It was well after midnight, we were all tired, but still had the strength to chat happily about the passed time.
... The starting point of our exploration was St. CharlesAvenue. We stepped into an old streetcar, with opened windows which ventilated the humid air, drove by a black machinist, with a soft voice, always nice and polite with tourists. When I met his smiley face I remembered New Orleans actually represents the heavy history of slavery, and I smiled. I didn't smile to the brutal images from "Uncle Tom's cabin"(!), but to the glamorous ones from "Interview with a vampire". Yeah, I know! you can't have one without the other, but I have a twisted selective memory and a curly mind! …In a Proustian way I started to remember the imagined charm of that time, while my imagination was fueled with a row of wonderful colonial houses rolling on both sides of the tram lines. One next to another and one more beautiful than the other, white houses with two floors, built in the old plantation houses style, displaying iron balconies, tall columns, French doors, swings or rocking chairs and mostly very green gardens. They all seamed suspended in time, and nothing of their appearance breathe modernism. I felt transported in the tale past where nothing was to surprise on a negative note.
... The tram named wish took us on Canal St. – where to its left was laying the French Quarter with its impressive charm, and to its right the small financial quarter with modern buildings. It wasn't totally disproportionate, but we still choose the touristy part of the city, where worth getting lost on its colorful and animated streets. This is exactly what we did, even if we were aiming to Bourbon St., famous for its annual Mardi Gras parades. In the French Quarter we met the same colonial architecture, but more urban than St. Charles Avenue. We saw balconies decorated with flowing flowers, classic, elegant souvenir stores, as well as kitschy ones, carnival masks shops, colorful beads, jazz musicians playing in the middle of the road, voodoo workshops and prostitutes. Yap! the French Quarter is obviously the "red quarter" of New Orleans, and a very impressing one, I might say. Crossing it to the south the streets will take you to Jackson Square with the beautiful St. Louis Cathedral in the middle, built in 1720, and bordered by the docks of the great Mississippiriver.
… On the river's banks leis the French market where can be purchased alluring typical condiments. The Creole (Cajun) cuisine was born out of necessity and mainly from the slaves’ homesickness. The women forced to adapt to a new life tried to keep with them the smallest piece of their old life, and tried any possible culinary combination that could bring back the smell and taste of home. This is how the Louisiana Creole cuisine emerged – in the absence of refrigeration facilities and by combining any available ingredients –, a mix of fish, seafood, oysters, crawfish or shrimp, along with meat, sausage or game, rice and plenty vegetables, which in the end take you through the African, European and also Asian cuisine.
Another element of the Creole cuisine are the delicious beignets and café au lait served in the place that made them famous – Cafe du Mond. What are they? and why are they famous?... Well, “beignets” is the general term used for any type of fried dough. In other words home made mama’s donuts!! The same type as the Hawaiian malasada introduced in the islands by the Portuguese. This only proves one thing: the European provenience donuts are something else compared too the American ones, with a whole in the middle and sunken in icing.
On the local drinks topic though, New Orleans is famous for hurricanes. Aha! Hurricanes are frequent in the gulf area and the locals decided to adopt them. If they couldn't get rid of them, at least they were able to integrate them to the daily life. I have no idea what is mixed in this drink, but I know that it looks like a cocktail with some Grenadine and pineapple juice in it. And I also know that it’s served in overwhelming quantities, on a background of jazz... The jazz bars on Bourbon St., no matter how commercial could be enchant the ears and souls, with the warmth of the southern accent, with the local songs, with the images they awake in your mind, with people's relaxation when they listen to the artists, with the typical sound that makes its way through glasses and applause.
New Orleans made me smile from the first moment this trip started to get shaped and it still makes me smile thinking that I will go back one day. As I anticipated, I felt in love with the city before arriving there. For sure living in such a place wouldn't be bad. Wouldn't be bad at all!... Only if we wouldn't be so affected by this brutal economy...
One of the reasons behind my moving to California was also the possibility of visiting Mexico. It is such a large and complex world, much more developed than the Americans think, and with such a similar culture to ours, that I have the impression I will feel like home at south of the border. For many months I hoped, I tried, and I did not succeed to travel over the border that lies south of San Diego. I've been close though – at the end of the tram line, at the outlet mall, last time I even crossed the pedestrian bridge... I've got to the gate where I would've had to take just one more step... And now... finally! I went to Baja!!!
When traveling from US to Mexico by car, you don't even realize when you stepped from one world to the other. I guess some people don’t even think about this. One blink of an eye and you're already on the other side of many's dreams and tragedies. Found at 32km south of San Diego, CA the Tijuana border is the most transited international border in the world. Highway I-5 was drawn parallel to the Pacific Ocean, on a length of 2 222km, to create a direct connection, from the Canadian border (at north) to the Mexican border (at south), and at the crossing point it splits in eight lanes – five on the south bound, and three for the north bound. The crossing time in any of the senses can be overwhelming at certain times of the day, but we tricked the dead traffic around noon and didn't spend more time than we would waste at a street light. So, we crossed. Between the two borders there's no neutral zone or “nobody's country”... there's no exit from US sign, nobody checks your passport. You just see ¡Bienvenido en Mexico! and that's it!! you're in Mexico. You're already in Tijuana.
Like any other border city, Tj seams a poor town, with many precarious neighborhoods, with bad quality roads and cars, with people concentrated on producing as much as possible from tourists. I heard many people referring to Tj as to a tourists’ trap for bad quality souvenirs sold at exorbitant prices. On a first glimpse this is exactly what it suggested to me too and somehow, it reminded me of the peripheral street of Alexandria, TM. The architectural leit motif seams to be the unfinished building, on one or all exterior walls, the rusted fence and the cracked concrete more than we ever saw back home. The only thing that kept reminding me where I was, was the multitude of flags fluttering everywhere out of beautiful and strong Mexican pride.
As soon as we left the border area, we turned right and headed to Playas de Tijuana. Obviously, the beach of the city, which is after all situated on the shores of the Pacific, on the north of Baja California peninsula, unraveled a series of surprises. This is where I saw some images which I believe I should've picture, but whom somehow did not cross my mind before arriving there.
First was the image of the famous border fence that separates US from Mexico. The one well praised by the previous administration and which appeared in the press maximum reinforced with man power, as well as top defense technology so that the sinners from the south to not have any chance on penetrating the American dream. To my surprise, the American defense, in this case, leis in a poor and ugly fence built from rusted tin, which needs to stand for 3141km, from Texas to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean (?!?!).
The next image that impressed me popped up when we were driving on a road parallel with the border fence. Being on a hill I could observe on the clear horizon the skyline of downtown San Diego, which is of course on the other side of the fence. For a moment I stopped to think: What could it be in the souls and minds of the people that get here? Many have the fortune of succeeding in crossing this line drawn by man and society, but others never had and never will. Instead they will live with the tragedy of an unfulfilled dream in their hearts, looking towards the horizon to the virtual answer of all their troubles... I smiled, sad at this life's irony and to the image in front of me, realizing what little value I give right now to my situation, to the life that I so easily choose where to live – today here, tomorrow somewhere else, while others raise the drama to the rank of destiny.
The last image was the one that encompassed the beach, and brought up a mix of feelings. One weird when I've got to see the urbanized image of San Diego in the background, when the shores should be dedicated only to the wideness of the ocean; another of disgust at the view of the lamentable construction development which looked pathetic and lacked the picturesque of the buildings we saw on the beaches of Vama Veche; and another of astonishment when I saw the fine sand, totally unattained, and the water, much cleaner than the polluted one by the San Diego harbor.
Back in Tijuana I discovered a dirty town, deserted of monuments or historical buildings, but rich in loungers, street vendors and touts ready to get your dollar from the pocket for any trifle, buildings with multiple destinations and sidewalks in decay.
The only attraction for me at that point remained the huge Mexican flag which can be seen even from San Ysidro, CA, on the American land, north of the border. The flag has two more replicas in Mexico City and Guadalajara, and despise its enormous dimensions it is visible from such a distance also because it is anchored on the tallest hill of Tj.
However, the goal of this trip was not to spend the time of my life in a border town, but to go down on the coast to the shore villages, famous for the beach parties and especially for the local cuisine based on lobsters, typical to Baja. I think the villages become more and more luxurious and pretty as you go lower into the south, to the tip of the peninsula, towards Cabo San Lucas. We, on the other hand, didn't have the time and stopped only in Rosarito and Puerto Nuevo.
Both beaches were deserted by tourists in the middle of the day, but even then the terraces built on the beach could create the image of a perfect place for nocturne extremely animated parties. The streets were filled with souvenir stores: vivid colored ceramics, different dimensions, forms and textures hammocks, folkloric decorations, and toys. Well, when it comes to food, however, Baja is extraordinary through the explosion of testes and aromas. The tortilla soup, for example, totally different from the one served in California, is more spicy and for sure better, while the fried lobsters are served with rise, tortilla and Mexican beans in quantities that could feed a whole family!
On our return we stopped at a Taco Shop Drive in – which was totally insalubrious. The restaurant is actually a grill set under a shed, exposed to sun and dust, next to a bar with high chairs, behind which you could park you car. I didn't even want to try thinking at the provenience of the meat, where or how it was maneuvered, or if in this country they have the BBB (Better Business Bureau). I focused on the purifying power of fire and charcoal, in the same way we do at home when we are attracted by a grill full with delicious mici on the side of a road. And that was the right attitude!!! as I never had in my whole life a better taco as the one I ate on the side of a dusty road in Tijuana!
I tried several times to plan a trip to the US west coast, that will include SF and I never succeeded from different reasons: I didn't know the city, I had no travel buddy, and I never had enough time.
However, this summer, Antoine – a French friend who I’ve met in Hawai`i – decided to ditch a PhD program in order to backpack on the west coast of South America from Baja to Chile and Brazil, for about six months or... until his money will run out. His trip started in California, and on the days that he passed through San Francisco I decided to catch a plane and join him. I was excited about this trip and extremely animated. Absolutely everybody that I've met and have lived or traveled there loved the architecture, the people, the culture, the cleanness, the shopping experience... So much that, a couple who stays regularly at our hotel even emailed me a walking tour of the city.
The trip started great, because I flew Virgin America which is by far one of the most fun airlines: the seats are purple, the cabin is illuminated by black disco lights, the headphones are pink and supra-dimensioned, and the safety video is for sure one of the lasts that impressed me and made me laugh in a long time (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyygn8HFTCo).
Arrived in SFO (San Francisco International Airport) I already felt that the people who live in this city are more educated academically, as well as culturally compared to the average American, due to the exhibits displayed in the public areas, to the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) technology, and the cleanness of the place which yes! is rare here, too. As soon as I've got into town, I met my buddy and started to explore. SF is known to have one of the best mass transits in US, therefore we took advantage of it, even though a ticket offers only one transfer. On the other side, SF is a city that deserves to be walked, so you need comfortable shoes and legs ready to climb all those hills and stairs.
First stop took place at Pier 39, famous for its sightseeing, and for the sea lions that started to arrive at the docks to sunbath after the massive 1989 earthquake, which measured 7.1 degrees on Richter scale.
Along with the romanticism of the fishermen's buildings and typical cuisine, from Pier 39 can be admired the on-shore – on-water play of the sea lions, Alcatraz island, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Bay Bridge and the skyline of the financial district.
Alcatraz, is as accessible as in the past, because tickets sell out weeks in advance especially during the summer, and of course I went there unprepared.
The Bay Bridge is "the other" bridge which crosses the bay linking the SF with Oakland. Part of interstate 80, the double-decked bridge was built between 1933-1936, has a total of 10 lanes, a length of 2822m, and a traffic of approximate 270,000 vehicles per day which makes it one of the most busiest bridges in the world.
Golden Gate on the other side was the attraction of the day and the target of our very looong walking trip – there are 7km from Pier 39 to Golden Gate Bridge. Well, that wasn't the worst thing. In Mark Twain's words "the coldest winter I ever lived, was a summer in San Francisco". Sunny California does not necessarily describe the Bay Area. In August there were 15˚C, so our trip was garnished with sun and clouds, short sweats and brief coldness, which resulted in a red face and afferent repercussions.
On our way, we first deviated trough Fisherman’s Wharf where old ships can be seen and the famous clam-chowders in sour bread bowls can be eaten at its best. Then, on Marina Blvd we looked at houses that have over-dimensioned windows, pale colors paint, and beautiful views overseeing the Bay. What made me smile was not the fact that these residents have the fortune of waking up to such views every morning, nor that they had the (miss)inspirationof painting their houses as a newborn's bedroom, but the fact that absolutely all houses have a room, on the street side, with an enormous window that has no curtains or shades. If in the middle of the day I could see their undone beds and furniture, can help but wonder what can be "admired" early in the morning or in the evening before bedtime!?
I left behind my puritan thoughts, and stopped at the next attraction – the Palace of Fine Arts – an open theater built on ancient Greek and Roman architectural style. This is one of the few buildings that escape demolition after the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition which celebrated the opening of the Panama Canal. The theater impresses with its architecture totally different from the rest of the city, with the romanticism of the time passed from the turn of the century, and with the history of this place. Next objective was of course the Golden GateBridge, who attracts thousands of tourists every year, but which from a short distance didn't impress me that much... However, I saw pictures; pictures of the bridge among heavy clouds of fog, typical to the Bay Area which look magical. Our day was clear and we could admire it in its fullness.
Back to the downtown we got a chance to visit SFMOMA– the West Coast sister of the Museum of Modern Art from New York. Every first Tuesday of the month it can be visited for free. Well, if the trip doesn't take place in that specific day, the museum lobby, shop and café are always open to the public. Across the street from SF MOMA we found the Yerba Buena Park. It doesn't have impressive dimensions, but it brings a breath of fresh air in a city drown in concrete, on the grass, under a tree, or in the fountains where I use to cool my feet. Next on the list was Transamerica – built in a pyramid shape in the financial district, the building dominates the whole city. Unfortunately it cannot be visited due to the 9/11 events, but it still remains a symbol and the tallest skyscraper in San Francisco.
Disappointed that we couldn't admire the view of the city from the top of Transamerica, we decided to climb one more hill, fairly steep, to reach the Coit Tower – the one which for many years, with its 64m, held the title of the tallest building in SF. The tower was built on the Telegraph Hill, in Art Deco style, in 1933, at the wish of some Lillie Hitchcock Coit, who donated a third of her estate to the preservation of the beauty of her beloved city. From its base can be seen the incredible panorama of the San FranciscoBay, including Golden GateBridge, the MarineNationalMuseumPark, Alcatraz, Pier 39, Fisherman’s Wharf, AngelIsland, Treasure Island, BayBridge, the city of Berkley and the financial district. Inside, the New Deal inspired mural which hides some surprising socialist details can be admired.
Going down the hill, somehow we ended up in China Town – first established in US. The crowd’s dynamic is exhausting at any hour of day, but the Asian fruits explosions of aromas and tastes worth the effort... From this point you can catch one of the buses that run on Stockholm Street and therefore headed towards downtown, after passing through the Chinese neighborhood, the Italian neighborhood, and the Russian neighborhood...
We got off on one of the streets that have the famous cable car - the symbol of SF – and with twinkles in our eyes we jumped in the first wagon that stopped at the corner of the street, in the same way they show it in the movies. We took it just for one stop, only to jump in another one which took us to Union Square. Later on we heard a driver charging a $5 fare.
Union Square, along with other symbols of San Francisco contributes to the metropolitan status. The square has the majesty of all great American cities, with its high, modern skyscrapers, but also with its massive, historical buildings that host now hotels, theaters, and especially shopping centers or department stores. Union Square in San Francisco rivals only Vegas on the number of luxury American, as well as European and Asian brands. Because of this place, SF can be named the Milan of the West Coast. The list includes: Macy's, Bloomingdale's, Barneys New York, Nordstrom, Saks Fifth Avenue, Neiman Marcus, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Dior, Chanel, Dolce & Gabbana, Burberry, Prada, Armani, Boucheron, Hugo Boss, Tiffany & Co., Piaget, De Beers, Bulgari, Polo Ralph Lauren, Lacoste, Salvatore Ferragamo, Cartier, Bijan, Marc Jacobs, Hermès, Ermenegildo Zegna, Old Navy, Forever 21, Anthropologie, Apple Store, United Colors of Benetton, Urban Outfitters, Abercrombie & Fitch, Gap, American Eagle Outfitters, H&M, Zara, MNG by Mango, Kenneth Cole New York, Guess, Juicy Couture, Tumi, BCBG Max Azria, Banana Republic, Coach … uff!
Even if I do have frequent flyer memberships here and there, I have to confess I am not a devoted customer. Is true, I cheat in the favor of the price. Therefore, I flew a good range of mostly American and European airlines.
Like everybody else, after a while I stopped paying attention to the Safety Videos that run before take off. So, every now and then when I catch myself watching I know is for a good reason, and I usually get pleasantly surprised.
Here are some that might raise your interest, too:
Virgin America - Sir Richard Branson has such a strong influence on everything Virgin
Delta Airlines - the largest airline in the world, has a very intriguing welcome video
Southwest Airlines - the only US airline that never knew failure
As far as I know there are four beach areas in the city of San Diego: Coronado, Ocean Beach, Mission Bay Beach, and Pacific Beach. The later I did not yet visit in the six months I’ve lived here and didn’t really feel so eager to explore it anytime soon. Based on the prejudice that the area hosts a bunch of student rental houses kept me away from what I thought to be a campus like neighborhood.
WROOooNG!!
One shiny morning my Windows Vista PC crashed in front of my eyes living me with a day of despair, useless phone calls, runs to the library, questions, and failed attempts to restore it. In the end I picked some random phone numbers from PC repair shops in my neighborhood and cried for help. Needless to say none were successful until finally someone answered at the other end of the line, plus! had a satisfactory solution… However! it ended up to be located in PacificBeach.
Hmm… so, I though: my steps might take me today to an unexplored area, by the sand surf and sun, relax and hard/soft ware nirvana!??!... Why not?! I embarked a series of trams, buses and never before walked streets to a small PC repair shop owned by some young Israeli “Regie-like” boys who just made my day brighter!! Judah and Tom used to have an office in downtown, five blocks away from my house and just moved to PB due to economic restrains. The shop runs because of their skills (apparently Microsoft certified) and produces profit to fuel their surfing camp trips to the Pacific shores of Costa Rica. Because of them I’ve got to discover a new side of San Diego, which turns out to be another favorite place.
PacificBeach might be a students mainly neighborhood, but it also strikes me as healthy, clean and family vacation oriented. The arena is populated with restaurants (street and ocean front), beautiful worldly shops, bicyclists, vacationers, relaxed people, holiday atmosphere. What I really like is the beach, which has beautiful views and wide golden sandy area, all though devoided of palm trees or shade. What I don’t like, which seams to become a leitmotif of the West Cost shores, is the abundant algae population and the low temperatures of the ocean waters.
On a professional side, I was immediately attracted by what I think to be the landmark of PB – the Crystal Pier Hotel. Established in 1927, this is a typical American beach cottage based hotel, built on the pier over the beach and waves. Their logo romantically invites guests to “Sleep over the ocean” and immediately transposes the spirit into the calm of the Pacific waves.
I asked the key keeper what type of clientele they have, giving the fact that it looked to me as a shabby, but not too classy place. The place would really use a facelift! Well, even though, while having only 32 cottages the rates gravitate around $300/night. This shoots targets into the family market and advises reservations to be made 4-6 months in advance.
