Stay Classy, San Diego

Other than what I learnt from watching Anchorman, there was only one thing I knew for fact about San Diego. It was close to Mexico. But even with that being the extent of my knowledge, it didn’t take long for me to decide that San Diego was up there with Chicago and New York as my top most liveable cities in America.

It was a long trip from Philadelphia and not since my arrival in Canada last Octover have I been welcomed at the airport with open arms. Granted, the open arms belonged to my friend and host Mackenzie’s brother, Jackson who I had never met but it was nice to feel so warmly received, after so many cold arrivals at unfamiliar train and bus stations around the country. Within seconds of meeting Mackenzie’s siblings and parents, I felt like I had known them my whole life. They were more excited for me to be there than I was myself.

Being within 15 miles of the Mexican border, the influences on San Diego’s architecture, food and culture is obvious. The houses are scaling cement fixtures of terracotta orange, stark white with red tiling and arch windows cut straight out of the walls. Cacti grow in the place of roses and garden beds are a rich palette of yellow grasses and frosty green succulents. The small patio of my San Diego abode (Mackenzie’s mum’s house) is a messy forest of grass and growth which feels like it should be overlooking a turquoise bay somewhere in Cabo.  

When it comes to beaches, San Diego doesn’t disappoint either. A 10 minute drive across the bridge and you’re at Coronado Island, the Newport of San Diego. Anyone familiar with The O.C. would find an instant appreciation of Coronado – a small coastal community where the mothers are as youthful as their daughters and the surf rats play for the water polo team. But the beaches are beautiful and the view back at downtown San Diego is undeniable. Being a community unto itself, ‘The Village’ of Coronado boasts an array of boutique and independent shopping – The Bay Bookstore, The Attic Boutique and Boney’s Market. A purchase from each will give you a new book, a new bag and a sandwich to take with you for a few hours baking on Coronado beach.

The sun-kissed look made famous by Californians is best showed off at night. The night life is found at the Gaslight Quarter, a stretch of clubs in downtown San Diego which oozes everything from bronzed blondes to bikies. The Tipsy Crow, a three-tiered institution has a deceivingly classy cocktail bar and a deliciously debaucherous basement hiding beneath it, where the green laser show and Rhiannon music says it all. Once you’ve had your fill of five dollar shots and cheap G&Ts, it’s on to The Field. The meter-high stage, tucked into the far corner of this Irish pub make the dark wooden booths slightly superfluous. The Irish punk band of a Friday night will have everybody on their feet and if you’re lucky, you’ll stumble across a bachelor party just to seal the dancing deal.

A little too much fun at The Field meant we lost a day of San Diego appreciation to wallowing on the couch but we bounced back today by spending the morning at the Balboa Parklands, San Diego’s version of the Smithsonian Institute. A morning of wandering around the botanical gardens and National Cottages in the sun quickly took its toll, so we went searching for retail therapy in Hillcrest. There’s nothing like successful thrifting in San Diego’s gay suburb to top off another perfect day in the ‘whales vagina’.

Ciao for now. xo

The Cross-Country Chronicles: I Left My Heart in San Francisco

After eight months of winter where the sun gave me little more than a non-existent goggle tan, I was looking forward to getting to the west coast and soaking up some much needed sunshine.

Unfortunately, San Francisco did not deliver.

What it did deliver was a dose of its traditional west coast weather – rain. This poked a big dirty hole in our plans to spend the morning walking across the Golden Gate Bridge and enjoying the sunshine in Golden Gate Park. In fact, everything we wanted to do involved being outside so we were temporarily at a loss to what we were going to do for the one day we had designated to seeing San Fran.

After a big delicious breakfast at Ella’s (a recommendation from our house host, Anne) we exchanged our sun hats for museum tickets and headed to two of San Fran’s art galleries – the Legion of Honour and the de Young. While the de Young’s photography collection left Molly a little wanting, there were some good sculptures including a hanging cube made out of the burnt pieces of a church destroyed by arsonists.

Thankfully, the Legion of Honour made up for any disappointment with an incredible exhibition by Isabelle de Borchgrave called Pulp Fashion – dresses made entirely out of paper fibres which reflected fashion trends from the 1800s to present day. I’ve never wanted to touch a display so much in my life.

From one art show to another, we then paid a trip to the Haight – San Fran’s very own hippie-ville and my home away from home. It was difficult to control myself in the presence of so many vintage and retro clothing stores. Molly literally had to drag me out the door as I consoled myself with the reality that I can’t fit any more in my backpack as it is. The Haight also gave us a nice glimpse of San Fran's famous Victorian architecture. Believe me, these babies are boring compared to some of the colour combo's we came across.

The sun got its act together in the afternoon and after another delicious dinner with Anne at a local Mexican restaurant, Molly and I paid one last visit to the Golden Gate Bridge – a choice which definitely rewarded us with a few memorable happy snaps of the setting sun over San Francisco.

We called it an early night (or as early a night as possible when Sex in the City is on cable) and fell asleep with LA in our dreamy sites.

If it rains, I’ll cry.

Ciao for now. xo