San Diego’s North Park neighborhood piqued my interest many years ago when a tiny street called Ray Street dotted with artist studios started welcoming the public to their studios every month. Prior, I had only thought of North Park as a fairly crime-stricken region of San Diego that was best to avoid. Fast-forward a decade, and the neighborhood is booming with businesses and new residents, but most artists can’t afford to be there anymore. A downside of neighborhood redevelopment. Fortunately, the upsides are numerous, including the creation of the North Park Historical Society in 2007, which is the local group behind the official designation of the North Park Dryden Historic District, which boasts several blocks of California bungalows and Spanish colonial revival homes. I watch the changing of the seasons jogging the streets of this gorgeous neighborhood as homeowners enthusiastically decorate their already eye-catching homes.
I pass this house every day but just noticed its incredible tree because of all the jolly pumpkins hanging from the branches.
And my favorite season of all to enjoy this neighborhood is – you guessed it – Halloween. These homeowners are so creative and artistically inclined with their spooky decor.
One of my favorite bungalows in North Park’s historic district dressed up for Halloween.
If you are visiting San Diego or live here, pay a visit and take a nice long stroll at dusk along 28th and Pershing Streets, bordered to the north by Landis Street and to the south by Upas Street, and everything around and between.
Skeletons dancing on doors…
Enjoy a trip back in time, a lesson in California architecture, and a good laugh at these Halloween decorations with a sense of humor.
This home alone is worth the trip. This is just a portion of their extensive decorations.
And the best part is no costume is required.
Although, if you are so inclined, your costume will be admired by the neighborhood joggers, like me, and, no doubt, the homeowners too!
Not so easy to see the black crows in the dark, but they are surrounding this mannequin in this homeowner’s take on Hitchcock’s Birds.More crows make a theme of scary bird decorations!A typical North Park streetscape with a pumpkin peeking out from the bushes.I didn’t notice this guy climbing out of his grave until I peeked through the fence to take a pic of this darling home.Black flamingo = genius.Another great bungalow joining in on the Halloween spirit.
If you’re interested in seeing some fascinating historical photos of the neighborhood and learning more about its history, this PDF by the Save Our Heritage Organisation is a great read.
When I started this blog, Gracefully Global, I meant it as an evolving study on how to be a traveler, gracefully. That is, to cherish and respect the cultures that we come upon as we learn about and interact with the world through our traveling ways. Somehow, the political turmoil of this month has felt like a big slap in the face for many of us who value other cultures and exploration, no matter what our political identity. In the face of the daily barrage of political news and the persistently changing landscape of our government, I almost feel like I should be cutting up my passport and never leaving my house again. Luckily my passport is still intact, as, surprisingly, I’ve experienced some major positives as an outcome of the events over the last few weeks that I never would have seen coming. Two positives, in particular, are keeping me motivated and steadfast in my beliefs and in working to maintain my optimism for whats to come. So I’d like to share them with you.
I feel connected.
Marching together and writing postcards together! The fight continues. 🙂
The fact that I am writing this post now is a testament to the higher engagement I’ve experienced online and in person over the last few weeks, connecting with friends, acquaintances, and strangers alike. Not to say all of the connections have been positive, but they have all certainly been illuminating. Life somehow feels more interesting when you delve down a bit deeper to what makes each other tick, doesn’t it? And with connection, and a deeper understanding, it seems the sky is the limit on what could happen next.
The standout occasion for this connectedness was, of course, the women’s march, an incredible wash of positive energy, and a unique, historical moment of togetherness. Peaceful and optimistic, women of all shapes, sizes, ages, religions, politics, you name it. We were all there, and even better, we all seem to agree on the quality of this experience. I made a video about our experience at the San Diego march.
And the connectedness continues. I read a Vogue article about advocacy that I immediately trivialized as being too “beginner” in its advice. But really, it was perfect. It suggested that we organize groups of friends, colleagues, and acquaintances to work together on political advocacy goals. I don’t know why I originally thought of the article as overly simplistic. A few hours saturated with of frustrating political news later was all it took to change that thought, as I was fired up and the Vogue article suddenly seemed genius. I reached out to some friends, and we’ve already had our first meeting!
My college roomie holding up her stack of postcards.
The friends that agreed to participate in these meetings are the women from each of my life’s major adventures that have stood out as the no-nonsense, powerful, empathetic, energetic, intelligent people that made life feel better. We met in a cozy, neighborhood café in San Diego. There were a few new faces, friends of friends, who I was thrilled to welcome. We enjoyed our food, and rolled up our sleeves and started writing Women’s March postcards to our political representatives. We cracked jokes and strategised. Laughed and shouted (the café staff were really patient with us, thankfully). It was exactly what we needed, after starting the evening feeling rather helpless and overwhelmed, politically, and each leaving that evening with a stack of postcards covered in the ink of our thoughts and concerns, and addressed to each of our political representatives. If meeting together these ten times for the 10 Actions/100 Days movement serves only to give me a bellyache from a good laugh and some updates from my favorite people, then so be it. That would still be a win in my book. And, ironically, the action for the current 10 Days is forming huddles, just as we have done, which we realized on the night of our meeting.
Writing postcards to our political reps!
The other equally significant outcome of this rollercoaster of a month is something that I never saw coming: I feel comfortable calling myself a feminist again.
As much as I’ve changed as a person over the last few decades, I’m realizing that I really haven’t changed that much. I’m still that gal that took gender studies my freshman year of college, and started making my own t-shirts in the first versions of Photoshop with whatever deep feminist theory was on my mind at the time. Which I wore to the annual feminist theatre production I produced at UCSD. As I’ve increased in age, I’ve learned to “tone in down.”
My beloved godmother. Let’s just say, this wasn’t even close to being her first march.
I can’t put my finger on exactly what caused my current change of heart. I surmise that Hillary, Pantsuit Nation, and our participation in the largest protest on American soil – a women’s march – has something to do with it. I hope that feminism can now achieve for politics what it once was criticized for not achieving for itself: bringing together women of every background, united in our quest for ethically minded government leadership.
That’s the lemonade I’ve managed to squeeze so far, and I’m expecting a lot more of it to come. So I hope to have many other positives to share, soon, as well as more reports from our meetings! In the meantime, I’d love to hear from you. Have you felt more connected, more feminist, or anything else that is personally positive? Thanks in advance for your thoughts!
I wrote this piece to join others in the WordPress hosted conversation, Speak Out.
My wonderful friend Lindsay, who made the trip to Washington.
What is it about the sound of the beach…the breeze, the drone of the ocean and the occasional squawk of a seagull that is powerful enough to make (almost) all of your worries melt away? And certainly powerful enough to motivate you to look slightly absurd holding a seashell to your ear once in a while, searching for that sound that can teleport you back to that beach where you can relax worry-less once again…at least for a few seconds.
Venice, Italy (photo by me)
I mean, certainly we don’t choose our vacations based on sound. But these sounds are rather powerful. Or a least more powerful than I had ever given them credit for.
Cinque Terre, Italy (photo by me)
It was an on an afternoon stroll on a quiet winter day in Venice’s Dorsoduro district on the last day of the Biennale, with not a soul in sight, that the unmistakable sound of small waves lapping against the sides of the canal and the repetitive thud of the boats shifting with the water that it finally hit me: I’m in Venice.
You would think this obvious fact would have hit me when I was walking through Piazza San Marco, watching the pigeons and the tourists (or more precisely, the pigeons playfully attacking the tourists), and perhaps some pretty notable architecture. Or at the very least when I was schlepping across the Grand Canal with motorboats whizzing by and gondolas drifting peacefully along.
Instead, it was on this nondescript canal, alone, that the reality of my environment hit me. And as I was walking along this canal in Venice, listening to these sounds of the boats and the waves, I thought of my second most unmistakable city sound. Waking up in Brooklyn, New York, to the echo of a car driving down narrow 4th St. and the familiar bump of the manhole lid as the tire rolled over it, voices shouting in the distance, and an inevitable car alarm sounding.
New York, NY (photo by me)
And then I thought of Bologna, Italy, and the sound of the rolling suitcases of the students bumping along the cobblestone streets on their way to and from their family homes in villages outside Bologna every weekend.
Bologna, Italy (photo by me)
And then Florence, and the overwhelming sound of American English speakers.
Florence, Italy (photo by me)
The indescribable and almost soundless sound of fresh snow falling in mass in the Italian Dolomites…
The echoing rolling wheels and clattering fall of a skateboard in San Diego…
San Diego, CA (photo by me)
And last but not least, in my hometown of El Centro, California, the peaceful receptive chirp of crickets follows you for months during the never-ending summers.
El Centro, CA (photo by me)
The more I think of these sounds, the more I am transported to these places. More than my usual memories of people or moments on vacations. The memories of these sounds have a way of attaching themselves to all the nuances of these places that you only really observe when you are alone. What are your favorite sounds? I’m curious…
I think most of us will agree that the word tourist has acquired a bit of a bitter aftertaste. Admittedly, I am as guilty as the next guy for striking down any notion of the idea that I might possibly enjoy being a tourist sometimes. I’d actually probably rather stay home than get caught doing anything that could potentially be labeled as “touristy.” Far be it for anyone to catch me enjoying a nice Mexican lunch in Old Town, San Diego. But why? Where has this anti-tourist phenomenon come from? How have we managed to self-inflict this somewhat silly stigma upon a relatively innocent word?
I opened up my iPad and looked up the definition of the word “tourist” in the dictionary. The definition is short and sweet: “A person who is traveling or visiting a place for pleasure.” A wholesome and respectable definition if I’ve ever heard one. But this makes the negative connotations of “touristy” even more perplexing, as by this definition, rejecting going somewhere touristy is essentially the same thing as rejecting the act of going somewhere for pleasure.
But then I take a moment to think about touristy places, as in places bursting at the seams with tourists. Disneyland calls to mind. Or Venice perhaps? And then my heart drops a little as I forget about the beautiful canals and bridges, and Main Street, and I am instead overwhelmed with images of hoards of people in t-shirts and sneakers. Not romantic.
So ok, I get it now. Lots of tourists – not so great. But going back to the definition again, “…visiting a place for pleasure,” is pretty great. So, why wait until you get to Disneyland to be a tourist, where you do have to join hoards of thousands of other tourists in your pursuit of pleasure, when you can just do that at home?
Once I went two years in San Diego without going to the beach a single time. Shameful, I know. My home is currently Bologna, Italy. Living abroad has bestowed on me an important gift – the opportunity (and excuse) to be a tourist in my own home, when I return to my previous homes in San Diego, Pittsburgh, and New York every summer. In my pursuance of pleasure, I will be a tourist nearly 100% of the time when I return to America this summer. Without a set routine bogging me down anymore, I am free to pursue pleasure by seeking out those activities that not only define the city in the eyes of the world, but also those special activities that I have found that define the cities for me and me alone, like eating most of my meals at The Mission when I’m in San Diego, or having yogurt at the top of Bloomingdales in Manhattan. And I also plan, without shame, to pursue those most stereotypical activities. The first thing I want to do when I get to San Diego is go to the beach. In New York I’m counting the days until I get to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And in Pittsburgh, the incline.
Which brings me to my most important point: what’s life without a little curiosity and fun? Don’t wait till you’re on vacation.
There is nothing like a cross-country road-trip to capture the spirit of being an American. While cliché, there is truth to what they say – the freedom of nothing but you, your car, an open road, and infinite possibilities ahead of you somehow defines us as Americans in a way. Our life, our freedom, and a million ways to go. What do we choose?
In this case, I chose to drive from San Diego, CA to Pittsburgh, PA. The road-trip was a cathartic experience, as I left my life in San Diego – family, friends, loved ones – in order to make the transition to Pittsburgh for a graduate program at Carnegie Mellon. With each new day on the road, I slowly but surely lifted out of the funk that had overtaken my life, working in administration in San Diego for years before I made the big decision to plunge into graduate school on the other side of the United States. The challenge of the logistics on the road and the surprises that seemed to come with every turn were exactly what I needed. My dad always gently reminded me that change and new environments bring new ideas. Now I finally see what he’s talking about. I guess if you agree that we are all in a constant state of evolution, this trip definitely sped up my process just a tad.
I hope you’ll have a chance to do one of your own, soon…
To help out your planning process, here’s an interactive map of our route complete with photos mapped along the way, as well as a google mapwith our exact destinations plotted.
ITINERARY I revolved many of our stops around friends and major landmarks
Favorite Day of the Trip: Our day in Denver and Boulder, CO. Both cities were beautiful and dynamic, full of great things to see and explore, great food, great beer, and a nice vibe. I want to go back.
Most Random Experience: On the way out of South Dakota we ran into the Sturgis Festival. I don’t think I will ever see so many motorcycles in one place again.
Favorite State: Utah. Unbelievably beautiful.
Best Meal: Chicago deep dish pizza with my great friend Tracy, of course.
Biggest Surprise: Iowa! Iowa was a really dynamic state, full of universities and cool people. My friends live in Iowa City where we visited them. The city architecture was interesting, the food was great, and we loved our stroll around town with them.
This photo gallery of my fave pics from the trip can be plotted on an interactive map of our route by clicking here.
