Saturday, August 31, 2013
Seaport Village
Exhausted, I nap for a few minutes before deciding to visit Seaport Village. My favorite sights are the Midway Aircraft Carrier and the iconic statue of the sailor kissing the nurse.
The Brick Yard Cafe is my first stop. It sits on G Street in back of the tall Hyatt Manchester Hotel. The deli is parallel to the trolley tracks. I treat myself to a lox sandwich and sit outside since the eatery does not have air conditioning. Many bring their dogs who enjoy the Harbor view and usual western breezes.
I have a prodigious appetite for life today. In no way can a mere lox sandwich satisfy hunger. I yearn for Italian this afternoon. I board the Green Line Trolley going south and until Seaport Village comes into view.
The hot day dries my nostrils so I know my head cold is finally licked. When my stop arrives, I get off and limp towards the Seaport. A crowd of Asians work their large cameras to get a clear picture of their loved ones. They have latched onto the the number one tourist attraction: a large statue of a sailor kissing a nurse celebrating the end of World War 2. All carry an expensive cameras and a few ladies hold umbrellas in place of sun screen.
I leave the colorful umbrellas and Bob Hope jokes and walk towards more World War 2 monuments. A pasta cafe sits next to a Greek one.
"Well George," I say to myself. "You have a few dollars until the end of the month. Indulge yourself with the pleasure of a spaghetti meal."
"Can I have two meat balls to go with my spaghetti meal?"
It is a dollar for each meat ball but not one cent for the meat sauce. My budget allows two balls. A merry-go-round is in the middle of the square. I decide to ride a wooden horse for four dollars. I might look older than my age, but today I am five years old. Six other seniors follow me. But I ride the blue one that goes up and down to the music Pretty Baby.
I finish off my day at Seaport Village with a chocolate ice cream cone. The westerly winds and magnificent view of the Harbor puts me into a serene mood.
On another day I feel like a kid again. I walk to the Seaport Village and stop at Office Depot. It is to the south of Broadway and and east of Pacific Avenue. The store allows me to use their computer to make changes in my document. I can even send attachments at no cost. Yesterday Tony, a long time worker, helped me.
"I need to make business cards."
"Come right this way, and I'll show you a few samples notebook."
The sample cards were not quite what I wanted. She then moved me to a small computer and showed me colorful samples of ocean scenes.
After I ordered fifty color cards for sixteen dollars, I felt like doing something dangerous. In the center of various eateries stood a merry-go-round. One wooden horse looked my way. "Why not?" I said to myself and paid four dollars for a ride on the pretty white one. I felt like a kid again.
Several old timers then copied and joined me. My stomach growled for a pizza. I bough a slice and shared it with a hungry Sparrow. A good looking gal tried to pick me up, but I noticed she wore a wedding ring.
I said "good by" and drifted back to The harbor. A few drifters and hobos already were in their sleeping bag. A stork viewed me from the top deck of the Midway. The sun drifts to sleep. I retrace my steps to my little cell off of Broadway. Now I am ready for a deep restful sleep.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Old Town Secret
Today I wished to be a Mexican and enjoy the serenity and scene that Old Town provides. August grapes are turning a dark blue and the large fig tree in back of the Well's Fargo building is showing off its ripening figs.
I sit on a patio chair at the Wrightington House, glad I can remove a cluster or two of these seasonal grapes. My tuna sandwich is finished so its is time to munch on a few grapes. A few black birds are having a look to see if the figs are ripe. To the right of me are three Olive Trees, and a smaller fig tree.
Yesterday I left the 'Y' on Broadway in a huff to the Green line Trolley in front of the Santa Fe Station. I had suffered spider bites to go along with bed bugs and roaches overwhelming my little cell. My cell mate called it the 'El loco' Hotel. We suffered through heat advisories that made it impossible to sleep since like most of the old San Diego Hotels there is no air conditioning.
Just a block west of the hotel was the Santa Fe Station. The Green Line trolley would train me the three miles to Old Town San Diego. I taped my compass card on the machine and jumped on the Trolley for the two mile three mile trip to Old Town.
I got off at my stop and noticed two TSA workers leading a homeless man away from the Old Town Transit Station. The black transit officer showed a heavy hand and leading him away.
He held a small bed spring in one hand and his sole belongings in the other. and noticed two TSA men leading a homeless white man away. I felt sorry for him but understood why the transit police did not wish to show off San Diego's underwear to the tourists. I crossed east with the light and and was only too happy I had not been the homeless man.
I sat on a wooden chair in the patio surrounded by several olive trees, a fig, Pomegranate, and finally a sleeping loquat. I plucked another cluster of grapes from its string. The sweetness tasted like wine. Now intoxicated, I had several more and even forgot about my book, Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens.
I strolled south and found my ice cream store. I ordered two scoops of the mixed ice cream and enjoyed the sound of Mexican guitar music. Now I felt relaxed and almost ready for reality again. i backtracked to the Transit station and took the Green Trolley south this time.
After a bible study Saturday, I decided to relax the rest of the day. After a nap at the downtown Y, I walked to the Santa Fe Station and tapped my Compass card on the machine. The Green Line Trolley stops every fifteen minutes. After three stops it deposits me at old town. I walk to my favorite fruit stop and enjoyed grapes and a few ripened figs. My body needed lots of vitamin C and D today.
From the Wrightington House Patio, I walked south a hoped a few ripe figs grew on my favorite fig tree. I discovered several already owned by black birds, but ate the remains anyway. The fig tree is in the back of the Cigar Store. I sat on a front porch bench in front of the cigar store. A wooden large cigar store Indian stood to the right of my entrance.
I played a trick on a few toddlers and hid behind the tall Indian and stuck out my hand when he kid came up to him. Now they knew the wooden Indian was real. Tall Chinese came in an out of the store lit up. They probably have a fascination of anything western like cowboy hats and cigars. I must have sat there for one hour since the nicotine made me a bit tipsy.
One large Illinois man stood on an old silver weight scale. "Damn it, it does not work!" I told the man the scale does not go higher than three hundred pounds." We all laughed. Of course cigars were the trend in the 30's. Nobody could speak without lighting up a cigar, cigarette, or pipe. My Dad Harry loved Dutch Master cigars.
I spread some #30 sun tan lotion on my face and walked to the Old Town Patio. My mouth craved for a rainbow ice cream cone. The Five Star bus line stopped and a bunch of Chinese jumped off and hightailed it to the hat shop in the patio.
Pedro's wooden cart showcased a bunch of Stetson hats, along with a mirror. Pablo wore a white long shirt over his light blue jeans. Too wide suspenders held him up. Several Chinese tried a few on for laughs but did not buy a Stetson. Pedro tried to adjust each hat to the contours of the customers head. The Chinese seldom buy, but do they enjoy shopping.
Pedro finally got a live one with deep pockets. A large heavy set Mexican had tried on a few hats with his wife and daughter looking on. He wore a large dangling golden necklace to go with his black suit and Mexican white shirt.
"What do you think, Estella. Compra esta?"
Pedro came over with the right size hat for the big man. He handed a few large bills to Pedro and took a picture with him. He and his daughter left with a hat on their heads and a smile on their faces. smiles and hats. bought a three thirty dollar hats for his wife,
"George, today the tenth of August is the anniversary of Ecuador's independence from Spanish rule." Just then a large man of means came to his concession and tried on a few hats. His camera and family told me they had deep pockets. They bought three harts and celebrated with a trip to the ice cream store.
I listened to the guitar player and his rendition of several songs and began to say good by to my Mexican two hour holiday. I turned down San Diego Street towards the train depot. I could not help but speak to the Five Star Bus driver. He waited for his troop of Chinese tourists from Carson California to return. I'll try to summarize my conversation with Jesus.
"I picked them up in Carson at seven in the morning. It took about two hours to get to San Diego and we breakfasted at the Coronado Hotel. From there I drove around San Diego and stopped here at Old Town."
I did not envy Jessie as he needed to bus them back to Carson and return the bus to Chino California. "At least for the twelve dollars an hour, they pay for my stay at a motel there before I head back to National City San Diego." The well dressed Chinese returned to the bus wearing Mexican clothes and some showing off their large cigars.
I returned to the Trolley Station and luckily picked up the Green Line back to the Santa Fe Station in the nick of time. It does not take much for fun at Old Town.
A few tips before your trip to Old Town. During the summer time, the best time to visit is in the late afternoon. Pack a lunch with bottled water and grab a seat under one of the large fig trees in the middle of the plaza. There is something mystical about the city and after a good lunch you will be saturated by good music, and the colorful scenery.
Inside the Reyes Plaza is good food, and maria chi music. Notice I had separated Mariachi into two two words to remember the spelling. Wear a large hat and cover yourself with sun screen. Each restaurant has a bathroom, but try to take care of your toilet needs at the start of the day. The stores that face east are the coolest and shadiest.
There are two tours during the day for those on a one day trip, but if you have time, pick one or two spots to claim for the day. Do as little as possible and drink as much water as you can.
For those who travel by car, garage it at the commuter parking area. It is free so get there early. For those who wish to shop American, You can take one of the buses to the many hotels and shopping malls. For me, I enjoy the La Jolla Coves and take the #30 bus. They leave every fifteen minutes.
While on the bus, don't talk to strangers, but be cordial. Many go to the Veterans Hospital for treatment while others are homeless. You will meet students, maids, and laborers but get the truer taste of the city.
Today I needed to treat myself to a few ripe figs in Old Town. It was Saturday the 24th of August and San Diego again was gripped into the long Monsoon season. San Diego had a hat on its head so the dirt, grim, and ozone sat on my own head most of the day. At least we didn't have the gargantuan fires Yosemite way.
I left the Sheraton Hotel in the late afternoon. I visit the Harbor Hotel to provide good clean air for my lungs. I decided to drive and park my car again at the Old Town Commuter center. It was four o'clock and the sun no longer was overhead. I still put heavy sun screen on my face and walked across the street to Old Town.
Somebody picked the grape arbor clean, but it did not stop me from grabbing a few ripe figs before the ravens stuck their beaks into them. I went to the cigar store and took up residence on a long wooden bench that was against the cigar store.
One of the favorite attractions for the Asians is the cigar store. Most come only to look and not to buy. They are fascinated with the cigar store Indian who I call Geronimo. Many take pictures standing next to him.
I can't get over how thin and happy these folks from Alhambra, Arcadia or other parts of the San Gabriel Valley appear. Some carry umbrellas and to ward off the heat. There is an old scale for weight. Most of the people don't bother sticking a quarter into the slot since they already know they weight more than the scale can register.
I end my stay at the Patio in front of the ice cream store and Stetson Hat display beside it. The Asians do buy ice cream and enjoy the Ecuadorian music played from reeds. Many take out their expensive cameras for the event. Their smiles of joy bring serenity back into my life.
A few run to the side bathroom before the enter the large bus back to San Gabriel Valley, the fifty dollars well spent. I return to the trolley station and return to reality. No longer am I a Mexican.
I sit on a patio chair at the Wrightington House, glad I can remove a cluster or two of these seasonal grapes. My tuna sandwich is finished so its is time to munch on a few grapes. A few black birds are having a look to see if the figs are ripe. To the right of me are three Olive Trees, and a smaller fig tree.
Yesterday I left the 'Y' on Broadway in a huff to the Green line Trolley in front of the Santa Fe Station. I had suffered spider bites to go along with bed bugs and roaches overwhelming my little cell. My cell mate called it the 'El loco' Hotel. We suffered through heat advisories that made it impossible to sleep since like most of the old San Diego Hotels there is no air conditioning.
Just a block west of the hotel was the Santa Fe Station. The Green Line trolley would train me the three miles to Old Town San Diego. I taped my compass card on the machine and jumped on the Trolley for the two mile three mile trip to Old Town.
I got off at my stop and noticed two TSA workers leading a homeless man away from the Old Town Transit Station. The black transit officer showed a heavy hand and leading him away.
He held a small bed spring in one hand and his sole belongings in the other. and noticed two TSA men leading a homeless white man away. I felt sorry for him but understood why the transit police did not wish to show off San Diego's underwear to the tourists. I crossed east with the light and and was only too happy I had not been the homeless man.
I sat on a wooden chair in the patio surrounded by several olive trees, a fig, Pomegranate, and finally a sleeping loquat. I plucked another cluster of grapes from its string. The sweetness tasted like wine. Now intoxicated, I had several more and even forgot about my book, Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens.
I strolled south and found my ice cream store. I ordered two scoops of the mixed ice cream and enjoyed the sound of Mexican guitar music. Now I felt relaxed and almost ready for reality again. i backtracked to the Transit station and took the Green Trolley south this time.
After a bible study Saturday, I decided to relax the rest of the day. After a nap at the downtown Y, I walked to the Santa Fe Station and tapped my Compass card on the machine. The Green Line Trolley stops every fifteen minutes. After three stops it deposits me at old town. I walk to my favorite fruit stop and enjoyed grapes and a few ripened figs. My body needed lots of vitamin C and D today.
From the Wrightington House Patio, I walked south a hoped a few ripe figs grew on my favorite fig tree. I discovered several already owned by black birds, but ate the remains anyway. The fig tree is in the back of the Cigar Store. I sat on a front porch bench in front of the cigar store. A wooden large cigar store Indian stood to the right of my entrance.
I played a trick on a few toddlers and hid behind the tall Indian and stuck out my hand when he kid came up to him. Now they knew the wooden Indian was real. Tall Chinese came in an out of the store lit up. They probably have a fascination of anything western like cowboy hats and cigars. I must have sat there for one hour since the nicotine made me a bit tipsy.
One large Illinois man stood on an old silver weight scale. "Damn it, it does not work!" I told the man the scale does not go higher than three hundred pounds." We all laughed. Of course cigars were the trend in the 30's. Nobody could speak without lighting up a cigar, cigarette, or pipe. My Dad Harry loved Dutch Master cigars.
I spread some #30 sun tan lotion on my face and walked to the Old Town Patio. My mouth craved for a rainbow ice cream cone. The Five Star bus line stopped and a bunch of Chinese jumped off and hightailed it to the hat shop in the patio.
Pedro's wooden cart showcased a bunch of Stetson hats, along with a mirror. Pablo wore a white long shirt over his light blue jeans. Too wide suspenders held him up. Several Chinese tried a few on for laughs but did not buy a Stetson. Pedro tried to adjust each hat to the contours of the customers head. The Chinese seldom buy, but do they enjoy shopping.
Pedro finally got a live one with deep pockets. A large heavy set Mexican had tried on a few hats with his wife and daughter looking on. He wore a large dangling golden necklace to go with his black suit and Mexican white shirt.
"What do you think, Estella. Compra esta?"
Pedro came over with the right size hat for the big man. He handed a few large bills to Pedro and took a picture with him. He and his daughter left with a hat on their heads and a smile on their faces. smiles and hats. bought a three thirty dollar hats for his wife,
"George, today the tenth of August is the anniversary of Ecuador's independence from Spanish rule." Just then a large man of means came to his concession and tried on a few hats. His camera and family told me they had deep pockets. They bought three harts and celebrated with a trip to the ice cream store.
I listened to the guitar player and his rendition of several songs and began to say good by to my Mexican two hour holiday. I turned down San Diego Street towards the train depot. I could not help but speak to the Five Star Bus driver. He waited for his troop of Chinese tourists from Carson California to return. I'll try to summarize my conversation with Jesus.
"I picked them up in Carson at seven in the morning. It took about two hours to get to San Diego and we breakfasted at the Coronado Hotel. From there I drove around San Diego and stopped here at Old Town."
I did not envy Jessie as he needed to bus them back to Carson and return the bus to Chino California. "At least for the twelve dollars an hour, they pay for my stay at a motel there before I head back to National City San Diego." The well dressed Chinese returned to the bus wearing Mexican clothes and some showing off their large cigars.
I returned to the Trolley Station and luckily picked up the Green Line back to the Santa Fe Station in the nick of time. It does not take much for fun at Old Town.
A few tips before your trip to Old Town. During the summer time, the best time to visit is in the late afternoon. Pack a lunch with bottled water and grab a seat under one of the large fig trees in the middle of the plaza. There is something mystical about the city and after a good lunch you will be saturated by good music, and the colorful scenery.
Inside the Reyes Plaza is good food, and maria chi music. Notice I had separated Mariachi into two two words to remember the spelling. Wear a large hat and cover yourself with sun screen. Each restaurant has a bathroom, but try to take care of your toilet needs at the start of the day. The stores that face east are the coolest and shadiest.
There are two tours during the day for those on a one day trip, but if you have time, pick one or two spots to claim for the day. Do as little as possible and drink as much water as you can.
For those who travel by car, garage it at the commuter parking area. It is free so get there early. For those who wish to shop American, You can take one of the buses to the many hotels and shopping malls. For me, I enjoy the La Jolla Coves and take the #30 bus. They leave every fifteen minutes.
While on the bus, don't talk to strangers, but be cordial. Many go to the Veterans Hospital for treatment while others are homeless. You will meet students, maids, and laborers but get the truer taste of the city.
Today I needed to treat myself to a few ripe figs in Old Town. It was Saturday the 24th of August and San Diego again was gripped into the long Monsoon season. San Diego had a hat on its head so the dirt, grim, and ozone sat on my own head most of the day. At least we didn't have the gargantuan fires Yosemite way.
I left the Sheraton Hotel in the late afternoon. I visit the Harbor Hotel to provide good clean air for my lungs. I decided to drive and park my car again at the Old Town Commuter center. It was four o'clock and the sun no longer was overhead. I still put heavy sun screen on my face and walked across the street to Old Town.
Somebody picked the grape arbor clean, but it did not stop me from grabbing a few ripe figs before the ravens stuck their beaks into them. I went to the cigar store and took up residence on a long wooden bench that was against the cigar store.
One of the favorite attractions for the Asians is the cigar store. Most come only to look and not to buy. They are fascinated with the cigar store Indian who I call Geronimo. Many take pictures standing next to him.
I can't get over how thin and happy these folks from Alhambra, Arcadia or other parts of the San Gabriel Valley appear. Some carry umbrellas and to ward off the heat. There is an old scale for weight. Most of the people don't bother sticking a quarter into the slot since they already know they weight more than the scale can register.
I end my stay at the Patio in front of the ice cream store and Stetson Hat display beside it. The Asians do buy ice cream and enjoy the Ecuadorian music played from reeds. Many take out their expensive cameras for the event. Their smiles of joy bring serenity back into my life.
A few run to the side bathroom before the enter the large bus back to San Gabriel Valley, the fifty dollars well spent. I return to the trolley station and return to reality. No longer am I a Mexican.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Dancing at the El Cajon Elks
For old timers like me, my legs need fun and exercise to keep me alive. Soon to be 74 years young, I visit El Cajon on Thursday's or Wednesday's to dance the night away. The old ladies don't seem to bad in the dark, in fact, they are darned right beautiful to me.
I usually spend my mornings at the Encinitas Senior Center working the computers and entertaining the lunch goers with piano playing. I then drive my old Cavalier Chevy to the Old Town and park it at the commuter parking lot.
"Hey Si, can I borrow ten for the dance tonight. I am a bit short today?" I am too lazy to visit my PO Box in Carlsbad for my teacher's retirement check. He agrees. Si sits on computer number eight in the Encinitas computer room.
I take the Green Line Trolley to my abode on Broadway. It is a five minute ride. After I sit on a bench and marvel at the San Diego Harbor, my 500 Hotel is my next stop. I try to nap and eat a little before returning to the Green Line and back to where my car is garaged. It is free and less stressful than entering a city with too many cars and too few parking places. And who needs a ticket from the many meter maids who pay salaries of the San Diego officials.
I hit the Eight Freeway at about six thirty, just when the rush hour pack is eating dinner to a T.V. and finding out what is happening to sin city San Diego. The sixteen mile trek takes me to Second Street where I exit and go south. It is a few blocks south of Main and just after a long shopping mall with a fitness center to the right.
The Moon Light Serenade is a fourteen piece orchestra. I had played at the Lucky Star for several years. It is composed of retired musicians and has a good fan base that enjoys the big band sounds of the thirties and the forty's. There is a ten dollar fee to get in, but no extra bar charges.
Excuse me but the band begins to play their introduction piece, of course Moon Light Sonata. No need for me to ask any of these damsels. That gals come up to me, and why not? I am one hell of a dancer. After dancing non stop for one and a half hours, I feel on top of the world, but I need to return to Old Town commuter parking lot. It is off the freeway. The Trolleys operated every thirty minutes at night and go to bed at about ten thirty. In no way do I wish to complicate my life with a trip into San Diego.
I usually spend my mornings at the Encinitas Senior Center working the computers and entertaining the lunch goers with piano playing. I then drive my old Cavalier Chevy to the Old Town and park it at the commuter parking lot.
"Hey Si, can I borrow ten for the dance tonight. I am a bit short today?" I am too lazy to visit my PO Box in Carlsbad for my teacher's retirement check. He agrees. Si sits on computer number eight in the Encinitas computer room.
I take the Green Line Trolley to my abode on Broadway. It is a five minute ride. After I sit on a bench and marvel at the San Diego Harbor, my 500 Hotel is my next stop. I try to nap and eat a little before returning to the Green Line and back to where my car is garaged. It is free and less stressful than entering a city with too many cars and too few parking places. And who needs a ticket from the many meter maids who pay salaries of the San Diego officials.
I hit the Eight Freeway at about six thirty, just when the rush hour pack is eating dinner to a T.V. and finding out what is happening to sin city San Diego. The sixteen mile trek takes me to Second Street where I exit and go south. It is a few blocks south of Main and just after a long shopping mall with a fitness center to the right.
The Moon Light Serenade is a fourteen piece orchestra. I had played at the Lucky Star for several years. It is composed of retired musicians and has a good fan base that enjoys the big band sounds of the thirties and the forty's. There is a ten dollar fee to get in, but no extra bar charges.
Excuse me but the band begins to play their introduction piece, of course Moon Light Sonata. No need for me to ask any of these damsels. That gals come up to me, and why not? I am one hell of a dancer. After dancing non stop for one and a half hours, I feel on top of the world, but I need to return to Old Town commuter parking lot. It is off the freeway. The Trolleys operated every thirty minutes at night and go to bed at about ten thirty. In no way do I wish to complicate my life with a trip into San Diego.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)