Land of Bliss

Sigh.  Tunie was right when she explained why there haven't been many posts lately.  Struggling to stay afloat in a sea of deadlines and spreadsheets and an overstuffed inbox and piles of homework and altogether too many commitments leaves a person without much left in terms of resources.  I think I'll revisit California tonight for therapy, if nothing else.

I was on the West Coast for business so I wasn't exactly in documentary mode, but when in the land of sunshine and open-air patios and 75-degree weather, one tends to enjoy oneself nonetheless.  The work I do causes me to spend a lot of my travel time comfortably ensconced in middle America's idea of suburban paradise, and it's funny, from the vantage point of one of these pinnacles of shopping-mall achievement that seem to blanket the country now, America really looks the same, from one end to the other.  Starbucks here, H&M there, Apple, Gap, P.F. Chang's and Barnes & Noble somewhere in the middle; it matters not whether you're in Kansas, San Fran or the Big Apple itself, never fear, you'll feel right at home.  I suppose on some level it brings a measure of comfort; sure, I'm thousands of miles from home, but it looks exactly like the Saint Johns Town Center, so I'll get by just fine.  Don't get me wrong, these open-air shopping megaplexes the size of small towns are the epitome of luxury and consumption, but they do get a bit...well...boring.

The nice thing about being so far from home, though, is a few fun little twists do find their way into the mix.  For instance, I found True Food Kitchen, your typical slick mall-food emporium, but with a California twist.  Diners feast on organic, locally (ish) grown seasonal produce in a dining room slash open air patio, surrounded by artistically arranged pots of fresh herbs and flowers and waited on by servers in yoga pants and green aprons.  Oh, and the kale-aid was delicious.

 San Diego was so beautiful.  I fell in love.  Wandering the streets of the Gaslamp District, strolling across the railroad tracks, exploring the convention center and the symphony shell and soaking up the salt evening air at the Embarcadero wasn't a half-bad way to spend an evening or two.  Sure, the burger at Jimmy Love's was hardly worth the calories, but the live music that accompanied it helped not a little.

I found pho in Rancho Cucamonga.  I've wanted to try Vietnam's ubiquitous soup for awhile now, and a nondescript restaurant located in a less than glamorous strip mall seemed like as good a place as any to make its acquaintance.  The fact that I was one of two Caucasians in the place also seemed like a good sign.  After taking my order, my server brought out a huge bowl of steaming broth containing noodles, thinly sliced beef and vegetables, topped with fresh cilantro and sliced onion.  Along with this came a plate containing sliced chiles, fresh bean sprouts, lime wedges and a whole sprig of Thai basil.  My server took pity on me (I think I provided considerable amusement to the proprietors) and explained that the correct way to eat pho is to gather these various accompaniments and add them to the soup according to one's taste.  There was something so fun about picking basil leaves off of my sprig and tossing them into my soup.  The end result was good; it had potential.  Tune and I could make a dynamite version, I bet.  The cool thing was the accompaniments, though.  Oh, and the drink.  I think they called it Thai sweet tea.  I stayed until it was gone, it was that good.  Super strong brewed tea, sweet with condensed milk, it was one of the more delicious beverages I've had the pleasure of consuming.

My last day, I had a red-eye to catch and some time to kill, so I found the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica (thanks to the recommendation of my boss).  I fully intended to park with my laptop at a corner table in Starbucks and go at the mountain of work that is my faithful friend, but upon arriving, I decided to throw caution to the wind, ditch the to-do list, and explore.  I discovered the Market, a fabulously cool shopping center devoted to all things gustatory, including food purveyors, kitchen supply shops, and huge spaces devoted to cooking classes - pure heaven.  I ate a delicious banh mi (a Vietnamese sandwich consisting of a soft roll filled with pork or chicken cutlets, pickled vegetables and fresh cilantro, topped with chile mayo) and a kale, watermelon, cucumber and feta salad, washed down with extra-dry ginger ale.  Most items on the menu were sourced from right within the Market; as I ate, I'd watch the staff walk from stall to stall, gathering ingredients for the restaurant.  After lunch, I did investigate the chocolatier, but settled on a piece of cherry-almond pie instead.  I ducked into the old movie theater and caught the afternoon showing of The Butler (a fantastic movie - I haven't had that good a cry in a long time).  When I came blinking into the sunshine, the day had waned and the temperatures had dropped; I strolled along the promenade, enjoying the breeze and the street performers that seemed to materialize out of nowhere (I still regret that I didn't go back to the poet - "pick a topic and get a poem, written while you wait").  I finally did find that corner table and sat for awhile under the stars, reading Khaled Hosseini's latest and watching the crowds go by.

Soon enough, the time for departure arrived, and I traded my days of fresh air, cool breezes and working outside at a patio table, latte in hand, for the hubbub of rental car returns and airport security and layovers and sleeping wedged between two gentlemen (one large), and, then...home, with its deadlines and chaos and business.  But the people that I love are here, and they are the most important of all, so though I remember that week of sunshine with a fond nostalgia (gosh, it was only two weeks ago...), home is where I remain.  Ah, I know!  I'll go see Kate in Atlanta next weekend!

Life is good.