The Lady on the Sea -- Dubrovnik

            Stop. Before you read any further, think first of the most beautiful sights you've ever seen. Perhaps it is a river flowing through a forest, or a sunset on the beach, or if you've been lucky enough to travel, the Swiss Alps in the winter. Well I know a place that I am certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, would easily take place in your top scenic sights, if not the top. That place is Dubrovnik, Croatia.

            After traveling for ten days through Albania, we were on to the next leg of our journey: Croatia. Our first day began by crossing the border in the evening and finding ourselves floored by the absolute majesty and splendor of the Croatian coast. Thousands of trees gave the land an immensely green appearance and added to the overall beauty. All on the bus gazed silently at God's creation, fully awestruck. Golden sunbeams lit up every ripple in the water so that it shimmered as though it held treasures untold. Countless islands spotted the ocean, each one begging to be explored. If time and money had not been an issue, I would have rented a boat and camped out on one of those islands. Unfortunately, I had neither time nor money and had to resign myself to watching in wonder as our bus curved along the Croatian coast.

Rounding the final curve until Dubrovnik is in sight

            We rounded the last bend of cliffs and Dubrovnik was now in view. The Old City sat on the edge of the water with a grandeur so weighty her presence could nearly be felt. Her white walls in triumphant prestige encircled her, this lady on the sea. As I gazed at this remarkable sight, I felt as if I had been transported back in time, taken on a trip to centuries past. Our tour leader came on the intercom and remarked, "That's where you will be performing tonight." We couldn't contain our excitement.

The walls surrounding Dubrovnik

            The twilight hour found our group of 60 striding along the worn cobblestone paths of the Old City in full concert attire. Drawing the attention of tourists and passersby, we meandered through the city's confusing streets past lovely water fountains, interesting shops and enticing restaurants. The smell of freshly baked pastries aroused my appetite, and I comforted myself with the thought that it wouldn't be too long until I could indulge. By this time the sun had fully set and the city lights and antique lanterns began to come on, transforming the city into an altogether different and seemingly magical environment. We soon reached our beautiful outdoor amphitheater, with concrete risers surrounded by walls overgrown with ivy. Just beyond the walls were tall apartment complexes, and locals leaned from the windows into the balmy night air, eager to enjoy our free concert. The area was packed and we delivered one of our best performances to the sound of clapping and uproarious applause. I will long remember the emotions evoked by that night in city of Dubrovnic, the romance, beauty, and magic, and I encourage anyone yearning to be taken back in time to visit the lovely lady on the sea.

The Castle on the Hill -- Shkodër

            Albania is a country rich with history. It was once composed of divided tribes who were oppressed by the Ottoman Empire. When united under one national hero, Skanderbeg, the Albanian tribes were able to defend themselves from the Ottoman Empire. After his death, however, there was no one fit to lead the Albanian tribes and the Ottomans entered and conquered Albania. One of the most decisive battles in this conquest took place at Rozafa Castle in Shkodër where thousands of besieged Albanians were vanquished.

            The castle was held by the Muslims for 500 years while Albania was under the rule of the Ottoman Empire. Yet, in 1912, the Balkan League which incorporated Serbia, Montenegro, Greece, and Bulgaria, combined forces and declared war against the Ottomans. That year, at the same castle where the Ottomans once established their kingdom in the Balkans, the Balkan League was able to reclaim the land and evict the Ottomans. Rozafa Castle was initially in the hands of the Serbian people, and one year later was given to Albania when their independence was officially declared.

I stand at the ready, Albanian banner in hand!

            Today we visited this major historic landmark for the Albanian people. Overwhelmed by its antiquity and yet timelessness, it is difficult to describe my feelings while within the walls of this magnificent fortress. It stands high on a hill near the conjoining of three rivers, and is an easily defensible position; it's clear why this citadel was contested for with such vigorous strife.

            The castle walls which were once fortified and stood as firm bulwarks against their enemies are now crumbling and abandoned. Grass and weeds sprout in every crack between the stones of the walls, wrinkles confessing the castle's advanced years. Within the walls, grass was so abundant that the ancient roads couldn't be discerned. A flock of 50 or so sheep with their shepherd nearby attempted to keep the growing grass at bay by wandering aimlessly in their grazing.

The incredible view overlooking the city and river

            We were able to explore wherever we wanted so I took the liberty of climbing on the walls and exploring dungeons and cisterns. My imagination ran rampant as I tried to capture what life must have been like in Rozafa 500 years ago.  Peering through the openings in the ancient masonry designed for defense, I could almost see the battles that had raged outside the castle walls. The feeling was surreal.

            Rozafa Castle is a must-see if you are in Shkodër. The view that overlooks the city and the river matched with the historical context sets this site among my favorite visited during our tour. Don't miss it!

Dominos and Dinner in Downtown -- Tirana

Buzz! My alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. and for a brief moment I was grieved at having to leave the comfort and warmth of my cozy bed. But then in a rush of heavenly bliss came over me as I realized that I had forgotten to turn off my alarm the night before, and today was the first day in a while that we got to sleep in—finally!

The snooze button is generally my favorite among buttons to push (right before elevator buttons whose novelty has not worn off since my pre-school years), and I got to use it liberally that morning before joining my Chorale group at the Abraham Lincoln Center, a language learning institute in downtown Tirana that teaches Albanian, English, German, and Italian. This center is fascinating as it was built in 1997 shortly after the turnover of communism. The country was in shambles and economically hurting, which meant it was a crucial yet incredibly difficult time for a non-profit educational center. However, a group of bold American Christian men were not concerned for their own welfare, but for that of the country. They had a vision to see Albanians grow in local and global leadership, the fulfillment of which started with teaching the Albanian people the world's trade language, English. Their mission continues by avidly seeking to equip the current and future generation of Albanian leaders with language, communication, and professional skills.

            After touring the center, a friend and I took advantage of an unusual afternoon off to try out a kafe-bar that caught our attention called L'Avenue. This kafe-bar, like many, had retractable walls that would close up at night, but in the day were fully opened with tables and chairs spilling out on the sidewalk. This made it so that the whole coffee shop was accessible to the day's warm breeze – both outside and inside felt like a patio. It seemed very fancy and high-end for a coffee shop, which was appealing to me, and the atmosphere was definitely inviting. My friend and I took a seat at a table inside that was large enough for a game of Dominos (we had a score to settle). We ordered cappuccinos and sandwiches for lunch and enjoyed a lovely afternoon with fantastic California-esque weather. The corner in which we were seated had bookshelves on either wall filled with plants, vases, paintings and Albanian literature, and there we spent the entire afternoon playing Dominos (I won) and enjoying the cool ambience.

L'Avenue when its walls are fully opened and furniture is laid out

           When dinner time came around we joined the rest of the Choralians and walked to a restaurant called Arva. Once again we were partaking of a luxurious 3-course dinner, something I was enjoying becoming accustomed to. For the appetizer we were served salad and cooked veggies, traditional starter foods, and a dish I hadn’t seen before that had an uncanny resemblance to baklava. Thinking it was the Albanian version of the middle-eastern pastry, I picked one up and took a bite. To my shock, I realized it was in fact a meat sandwich—but it was delightful! The rest of my table followed suit and they were pleasantly surprised with this flaky Albanian delicacy.

            The Albanian waiters and waitresses then cleared our appetizer plates to make room for the main course. I was trading jokes with one of our servers who didn't speak a lick of English, using some Albanian phrases I had picked up that he apparently found entertaining to hear me say. When he brought my entree, he set it in front of me, pointed, and said, "Sheep, sheep!" I wasn’t sure if he was speaking English to me and informing me that this was a mutton dish, or speaking Albanian and saying, "Shqip, shqip," which means, "Albanian, Albanian!"  Being clueless, I replied, "Falemnderit," "Thank you," usually a safe statement when one is clueless.

            The meat, whatever it was, was stupendous! My table partners discussed whether it was turkey (which it looked like) or chicken (which it tasted like) or sheep (which the guy seemed to be saying). It was served on a plate drenched with a caramel-colored sauce that tasted like honey and salt—it complemented our mystery meat perfectly!

            No multi-course meal is complete without dessert, and sure enough, the final course was on its way: a small plate of cake with a cup of an espresso. My, oh my, if that wasn't the most perfect ending to a meal, I don't know what is! The coffee was exquisite, as had been my experience with all Albanian coffee to this point, and the cake delectable. O Country of Albania, aside from your burgers, you continue to impress me with your appetizing food—may your culinary abilities live long and prosper!

Truth in Advertising?

            It had happened. My burger withdrawals had begun with a vengeance.  After a week in Albania, my stomach was in full revolt over the absence of ground beef on a bun, and my taste buds were lining up to join the cause. I couldn’t stop obsessing about a juicy hamburger, and I knew this craving would need to be satisfied or I would be grumpy for the rest of the week. Since I love trying new burger places and experiencing the differing styles of various restaurants, I was looking forward to trying out Albania's burgers. Well aware that no country can compete with America's burgers, I set my standards appropriately low and determined in my mind that I wouldn't compare it to, say, an In-N-Out burger, lest I be unable to fairly grade the Albanian version.

            That lunch hour, I went with my friend Mike to a place called "Goody Burger." Acclamations on the windows in Albanian as well as English informed us that this was Albania's finest when it came to hamburgers. We thought the name and praises were credible enough to warrant us checking this place out, and we gazed in mouthwatering wonder at the menu’s images of juicy, tender beef patties tucked into enticing buns with crisp lettuce so fresh the morning dew was still on it and tomatoes as red as the Albanian flag. My stomach cheered in joyful glee at titles such as "Double Bacon Cheeseburger" and "1/2 Pounder Cheeseburger" and "Guacamole Swiss Burger." I ordered the double bacon cheeseburger and went the whole nine-yards: fries, drink, everything. This place wasn't as cheap as other places we had been; it was about $8 which is normal in America but absurdly expensive in Albania. But that was okay, it would be well worth it.

            The wait was long, and my hunger became tempestuous. But at long last, a Goody Burger employee arrived bearing two trays, each holding a giant basket of fries and a box within which lay… a bacon cheese burger. I opened the box and gently unwrapped the paper enveloping my burger. She sat there in my hands in all her glory. Bacon and cheese, two of man's greatest discoveries, combined with man's greatest invention: the burger. With eyes closed I sank my teeth deeply into the burger. And what I tasted was absolutely…

            Disgusting. It was just awful. I opened my eyes and looked up at Mike whose face reflected a similar opinion. Shoving the lump of food in his mouth over to his cheek he muttered, "What is this?" He looked at his burger and slowly resumed chewing in confusion, "Is this… rubber?"

            It seemed like it. I forced myself to swallow the clump of the vile matter I had bitten off. I stared at this strange object I held in my hands… what on earth did I just eat? The thing stared back at me with a smirk, knowing I had been deceived into thinking it was something similar to my beloved commodity back in the States. The beef tasted like it was made from a homeless man's shoe, and the bacon? I'm pretty sure it was plastic bacon from a child's play set, so bland and so difficult to chew that I pulled it out just so I could actually get through the burger. I took another bite, stomach squirming in frustration.

            "They should call this place 'Baddy Burger,' because this is phenomenally terrible," I grumbled while seeking a remedy to the horrific flavor. I reached for my basket of fries. As it turns out, they were equally awful. The only thing 'Baddy Burger' could manage to do correctly was have a soda machine that worked. Though neither Mike nor I wanted to finish our food, we were so famished and had spent so much on it that we toiled valiantly through, bite by bite, chasing each one with a long sip of root beer, until our appetites were sated enough for us to terminate our efforts with sighs of relief.

            On the plus side, we treated ourselves to gelato from a stand outside as a reward for our hard work in finishing as much as we could, and let me tell you, that really hit the spot. All's well that ends well, right?

            At least I learned to never return to that particular restaurant, and to be extra certain about the credibility of a restaurant's claims before spending my hard-earned cash trying it out.  I also learned how much more I need to appreciate my country of origin, America: land of the free, home of the brave, and home of the really good cheeseburgers.

The Tour Gets Heated -- Lehza

            You know those days that are ridiculously stressful and busy?  The ones where you keep wishing time would slow down so you could have a moment to stop and breathe?  Well today was one of those days. Since the 60-member group had split up for the night to 12 different homes, we all met at a mutual location this morning, the Opera House at the center of the city. From there we walked 20 minutes through the bustling streets of Tirana to the Albanian Parliament building, which stood tall in white grandeur. At the gate we endured the scrutiny of stoic security guards, who carefully checked each of our passports individually before letting us in. To our surprise, and I’ll be honest, our delight, at least four TV news stations were there to cover us as we sang a collection of Albanian songs on the steps of Parliament. One after another over a span of thirty or forty minutes, members of parliament arrived in their chauffeured cars and walked through our midst as we stood on either side of the red carpet leading up the steps.

            We left Parliament after receiving many expressions of appreciation from important figures such as the Minister of Defense, the Speaker of the House, and other top leaders of the nation. We rushed to load our tuxes and dresses in the bus in order to be on time to our next venue, a local radio station where we would be featured live. As we drove through the city, I could see the chaos of Tirana’s morning traffic from my vantage point in the front seat of the top deck of our bus. The rule in Albania seems to be, as nearly as I could figure it out, that if you can pull off a maneuver without getting hit—it's legal. That being said, cars swerved in and out of lanes, even directly into oncoming traffic. Pedestrians and bikers dodged cars in wild evasive maneuvers and a flash of bright headlights from a car indicated to others, "I'm not stopping, you better move!" Several times even our bus driver, Ardjion, pulled in front of and around other drivers, coming within just inches of trading paint. On the second floor looking down on other cars, I found myself flinching at every turn and repeatedly pressing my imaginary brake.

            But we got to Radio 7 without a scratch. Well, we almost got there. We came to a street where the power lines were hanging too low for our large bus to make it through without creating a town blackout, so we had to disembark and walk the rest of the way. It only took a brief fifteen minutes, and we were soon at the radio station ready to record. They were grateful enough to have us that they ordered us chicken sandwiches from a nearby restaurant, and after a quick lunch we were on the air. Four of our members were interviewed by the radio station anchors, and intermittently we would sing a song. After our segment, we stuck around for another forty minutes to record an album with the mikes and equipment they had set up. The room was small and the weather warm, so the end of our session found us sticky and hot and sweating profusely. Despite that annoyance we had a lot of fun, and interestingly enough the music came alive to us in ways that it hadn't before.

            Leaving the hot recording studio, we returned to the bus and headed to our next location where we would be covered once more on live TV.  This time were going to the gravesite of Skanderbeg, Albania's national hero. In the fifteenth century A.D., Albania was composed of dozens of divided and scattered tribes. The Ottoman empire was expanding and moving to invade Albania, but Skanderbeg, a Christian, stood against them and rallied all the tribes to fight together as a united country. They, as a power of one unified force, stopped the Ottomans from advancing. Since then Albania has hailed Skanderbeg as their hero, and a monolithic monument in his honor has been erected at his gravesite. The plan was for our group to stand in front of this monument and sing the Albanian national anthem.

            But apparently there is truth in what has been said about the best laid plans of mice and men often going awry. The recording, traffic, and travel having taken longer than we had expected, we were now late for our TV appointment at the gravesite. And on top of that, when we finally reached Skanderbeg's gravesite, we were on the opposite side of the river from his monument and for some reason I still can't figure out, our bus was unable to cross the bridge to the other side. To add to our dilemma, none of us were changed into our formal attire and there was nowhere to make that change happen. So with only 20 minutes left until we were live on the air, we frantically offloaded all the dresses and tuxes and designated the top floor of the bus as the girls’ changing room while the guys changed on the first. Now the first floor of the bus is about half the size of the second and not all the guys could change there at once, so I spotted a nearby bridge and led the rest of the guys underneath it, where we were able to change hidden from view. I can only imagine the thoughts of the locals passing by as a double-decker bus stopped, spilled out a group of Americans who raced to the bridge and re-appeared wearing tuxes before breaking into a sprint to the other side of the river! I’ll bet there are still Albanians puzzling that one out.

            After crossing the bridge, we still had to run about three blocks to the gravesite, and let me not fail to mention that the weather was about 90 degrees and humid. When we got to the gravesite, all of us were panting and dripping with sweat (although I have been told that girls don’t sweat--apparently, they glow). That being the case, there was a lot of sweating and glowing going on in our group as we lined up to perform, having by some miracle made it there on time. The evening sun buffeted me with its rays and every inch of my body, roasting in the black oven of my tux, was screaming, "I'm on fire!" and anxiously trying to put out the flames with sweat.

The Skanderbeg Gravesite Monument

            After two songs, we entered Skanderbeg's monument and the blessed relief of the shade. Inside was a statue of the man himself surrounded by iron shields which hung on the walls; on each one was inscribed a name of one of the tribes which were once divided. We sang some more songs in this room while we cooled off, and enjoyed the acoustics of the smooth cement walls.

            In my book, we had already done plenty for one day – but apparently no one was reading my book.  We left the monument and walked a few blocks to a theater where we performed a concert for residents of the city we were in, Lezha. The audience was responsive and despite this being our fourth concert of the day, as I fell into the groove of our harmonies I was uplifted by the enjoyment of making music with my fellow musicians.

            By the end of the concert we had worked up quite an appetite, and located a restaurant called Pizza Bar Nr. 2 (I still haven't found number one). This pizza bar resembled a club as it had a very relaxed environment and was on the fifth floor, with an open rooftop and glass railings so that the sounds and smells of the city came to me while I dined on top of it. To my happiness, the food was cheap, about $6 a person with everything included. I was once again impressed by the service of the Albanian wait staff, who quickly responded to any need. I stood at one point to go talk to a friend, and three of the servers, thinking I was getting up to grab something, rushed to my aid saying, "Please, sit down. What do you need?" American servers, take notes.

            The night moved from late to later, and we moved from exhausted to debilitated. We pushed our weary bodies to make one last trek, back to where he had left Albert our bus, across the river. The best part about being as tired as we were is that it meant we would sleep extra well—any lingering jet lag would not get the better of me this evening!

Durrës: The Albanian High Life

            It was our third morning in Albania and we were loading up our double-decker bus, which we had christened “Albert” (since on its side was written in large letters, "Albanian Express"). I was a part of the luggage crew, which meant being responsible for getting everyone's suitcases, carry-ons, and garment-bag-enclosed tuxes and dresses in and out of the luggage compartment of the bus in an expedient manner. Our first attempt loading the luggage of 60 people took about 25 minutes and offloading took 10; by the end of our 15-day tour we worked hard enough to shave those numbers down to 10 minutes onloading and 2 minutes and 15 seconds offloading (yes, we were that serious about our job).

            We were sad to leave Korçë since we were beginning to know it well, but before we even had time to reminisce about our experiences there the bus was on its way to our next destination, the city of Durrës. We took the same route we followed on the way to Korçë, passing familiar sights and saying goodbye to them. Beautiful Lake Ohrid faded away as we began the climb back into the Balkan mountains, and we saw the river with its waterfalls one last time before heading for a completely different region of Albania.

Durrës is the Rio de Janeiro of Albania

            Durrës is gorgeous. It is the second largest city in Albania after Tirana and one of the most economically significant. Although the cost of living in this city is among the highest in the country, the wonderful thing for Americans in Albania is that everything is cheap! Because the US dollar is so strong here, we poor college students felt wealthy and were able to live high on the hog. Even in Durrës, a night at a 5-star hotel costs only $100; in the US a comparable hotel would be nearer to $300. The entire Chorale enjoyed a fabulous three-course meal at a 5-star restaurant on the end of the Durrës pier, and the luxury of this fine dining on the sea only set us back $14 a person – a meal like this would easily reach $30 per person in California. So although Albania doesn't attract too many tourists, for those interested in getting a big bang for your buck in a beautiful environment, I couldn't recommend it more! For example, a great cup of coffee in Albania that would blow Starbucks out of the water goes for a dollar, whereas Starbucks would charge you four or five. Ahhhh, my kind of living!

Fine Dining on the Sea

            As an aside, let me mention that while I appreciated many things about the Albanian people, one of the things I particularly noticed was Albanian hospitality. Albanians are always looking out for the interests of their guests; this is especially the case at restaurants and kafe-bars. I find their hospitality particularly intriguing because Albania is a culture in which you don't tip your servers or baristas. Back in the states you can cynically assume the friendliness of someone's customer service is for the sake of your money, (an assumption that I, as a former server at a restaurant, will sheepishly acknowledge as far too often true).  The lack of this monetary motivation in Albania is indicative of genuine concern for your satisfaction on the part of the Albanian wait staff.

            After lunch we visited the ruins of a first century coliseum where the bones of 44 supposed Christian martyrs were found. Legend has it that Titus the evangelist was martyred at this very amphitheater, as Paul in his final letter writes to Timothy, "Crescens has gone to Galatia, Titus to Dalmatia" (2 Timothy 4:10). Durrës is a city on the Dalmatian coast, so this legend is very plausible. Considering where we were standing and the history of Christian persecution and murder that took place here, some of the songs we sang were especially meaningful and powerful to me. We sang "It Is Well," "Steal Away," and "The Doxology." Is was an incredible feeling to be singing God's praises freely in a location where 2,000 years ago we would have been killed for doing just that.

We stood in the "bleachers" and our conductor stood in the middle of the amphitheater as we sang

            After exploring the fascinating caverns and tunnels at the coliseum, we left to perform yet another concert at the recital hall of the Albanian College of Durrës before heading to the quaint downtown district to experience a traditional Albanian meal. I ordered a plate known as qofta (pronounced chofta), a type of deep-fried sausage with chicken and cheese in the center. While the carnivore in me thought it sounded rather tasty, I actually didn't find it very pleasing to the palate (in fact, I don't think too many of us Americans did!). It might have simply been the fault of poor quality meat, but the dish tasted rather bland and had a tough, rubbery texture. On the positive side, it was only about $2 a person, so I didn’t have to bemoan the waste of my limited funds on an unappealing meal. My how I love the prices in Albania!

A Mountain Top Experience -- Korçë Day 2

            It was our second day in Korçë, Albania, and it was starting to feel like home. My Chorale group and I spent the night at Hotel Koçibelli and had the luxury of a leisurely morning, as call-time for our first event wasn’t until 10:00 a.m.  Jet lag was playing its annoying tricks on me, so I was up early and made my way to the dining room where hot breakfast was being served—let me tell you, despite the bad rap of a “continental breakfast,” Europeans do know how to make a good breakfast. Perhaps they were aware that 60 Americans were staying in their hotel that night because the kitchen was fully staffed, and despite our staying true to our culture by devouring all we could, the buffet table was never empty. Fried eggs, succulent meats, fresh rolls, hot crepes, cereal, fruit, juice, tea and coffee, was anything missing? Not that I could think of. I lingered for an hour and ate to my heart's content, noting the friendliness and attentiveness of the wait staff and enjoying some interesting varieties of Albanian pastries—the bread-baked sausages were particularly mouth-watering and I went back for seconds and thirds. Since I still had plenty of time to spare, I joined a group of friends and headed for the eclectic kafe-bar we had discovered the evening before.

            In Albania, coffee shops are called 'kafe-bars' because in this culture coffee and alcohol are practically synonymous. Both are consumed socially and unhurriedly, and you will never find a coffee shop without an array of alcoholic beverages, neither will you find a bar without an espresso machine. After finding seats on a comfortable sofa, we struggled through the language barrier with the barista-server to order a round of cappuccinos and mochas. A nearby American businessman who knew some Albanian witnessed our trouble and graciously assisted us.

            We sipped our drinks and enjoyed good conversation as we soaked up the local vibe. Albanians are never in a hurry, so at every restaurant and kafe-bar they will never bring you the check lest they appear to be rushing you, so when the time came for us to head back we asked for our bill and paid in Albanian Leke, which we had exchanged the night before at a bank ATM for 125 Leke to the USD.

            Our first concert would be at the “Kennedy Center,” a nursing home high up on a hill overlooking the entire city. But of course, we wouldn't go by bus up there—no, that's for the weak! So we took a good 40 minutes to an hour making our way up the hill by foot, gradually leaving behind the buildings of the city and entering the peaceful surroundings of the retirement home. The temperatures in Albania in May range between 70 and 85, and despite the fact that this day we on the warmer end of the scale, there was a cool breeze to keep us comfortable.  As we trekked up the hill we could see that Korçë is actually in a valley, completely surrounded by rolling hills and snowcapped mountains, and when we finally reached the top the view was even more incredible—it made me wish I could retire there!

We begin our ascent out of the city

The view halfway up the hill as Choralites struggle their way to the top

            We sang for the elderly and it was evident how much joy our music brought them. Music is a universal language, and we communicated clearly with our blended harmonies despite being unable to speak their language.  After a 30 minute concert and attempting some short, broken-English conversations with the residents, we descended back into Korçë, returning to the cobblestone streets and run-down buildings. We wound our way through the city, realizing without someone who knew the way to lead us that the city's streets create a labyrinth instead of a clear and perpendicular route. But our memories served us well and got us back to our Hotel.

            Following a brief rest, we went to the theatre where our evening concert would be held and spent an hour rehearsing, focusing primarily on the songs with Albanian lyrics.  The Albanian language is not particularly difficult for the American tongue to speak, as they do not have sounds that are unfamiliar, but trying strenuously to remember words that meant nothing more than gibberish to us was difficult.  Evidently our efforts paid off as the Albanian lyrics about doctrines of unity, strength, and democracy resonated with the hearts of our audience. When we would begin to sing a song in Albanian, the concert-goers would come alive, swaying and clapping to the music, and it brought an interesting sense of oneness between the Chorale members and our Albanian audience.

            After another successful concert, we enjoyed a pizza dinner before going to bed with satisfied stomachs and hearts.

The Double-Decker Bus Ride to Korçë

            We were finally there. After cramming through end-of-the-year papers and finals and celebrating graduation on Friday, Saturday morning I joined the 60-member Chorale of The Master's College at LAX boarding a plane for Albania. The total flight time was a long 17 hours, made more bearable by my cushy neck pillow, deck of playing cards, and the endless quantity of blockbusting movies available on Turkish Airline's entertainment system. By late Sunday we were crashing for the night at a hotel in Tirana, Albania's capitol. Exhausted, we all fell asleep right away, which was to our advantage since we had to be up by six to make the seven o'clock departure on our double-decker bus headed to the city of our first concert: Korçë.

Loading up the double-decker bus for the first time at the Tirana airport.

            The drive from Tirana to Korçë is three hours and absolutely gorgeous. Winding through the mountainous regions of Albania and frequently ascending and descending in elevation, the road writhed like a snake through hills bestrewn with countless pine and other trees. For the majority of our ride we traveled alongside overgrown train tracks and a flowing river punctuated by intermittent waterfalls. The landscape, apart from the tracks, appeared untouched by mankind and simulated an ancient and primitive world. The lack of civilization made me feel I had gone back in time.

            After an hour or so, we broke free of the forests and had a spectacular mountain top view of Lake Ohrid, a magnificently beautiful body of water that separates Albania from Macedonia. Our bus zigzagged down the mountain cut backs until we reached the lake and drove alongside its shimmering glory.

A pit-stop halfway down the cutbacks to get some pictures of Lake Ohrid. 

            Soon enough we were back to civilization and driving through picturesque towns. On this first day of driving through Albania I noticed something I would see everywhere we went during the rest of our time in the country—frequent sightings of seemingly abandoned building frames. There must have been at least one three-story high structure ever mile, but apart from three layers of concrete on pillars, there was nothing more. My theory is that these forsaken infrastructures were remnants from the years of communism. Albania was plagued with incredibly rigid communism for 45 years; in fact, the communist regime was enforced so strictly that the dictator of Albania was upset with communist Russia for being too soft in their regulations! In 1991 the government was overthrown and democracy was established for the first time in Albania's history, so my theory is that the communist government was working on hundreds of building projects that all ceased and were abandoned when democracy took over.

            As we passed through the towns and drew closer to Korçë, we all took notice of something rather peculiar—new buildings often stood next to dilapidated older buildings, some that were even in ruins. This stark juxtaposition between the modern and antique had several of us confused; but again, this can be contributed to the history of Albania as the country fell far behind the rest of the world in development during its dark years of communism, and some areas have grown immensely since. This could account for such a clash in architecture.

            At last we reached Korçë. This city is small and (relatively) well developed. The town center was modernized and welcoming, but as soon as you left that immediate area, you saw the same bizarre new-and-old contrast:

  

            Despite the ruins which we were told dated back to WWI, there was a homey feel to the city. We spent the evening in the city checking out several coffee shops and sampling Europe's impressive espressos and cappuccinos, and after our well-received performance at the town theater, we retired to our hotel to rest up for the next day's concerts and activities.

Mansions, Ocean Views, and Cliff Jumping -- Palos Verdes

            I'm from Palos Verdes. If you've ever been there, you might have responded to that information with a reaction similar to the myriads I have received: "That's a very nice place in the world," or "Wow, life must be hard for you," or (my personal favorite), "Um, ok, rich!" It's true, Palos Verdes is a very nice place in the world, and one of the most notable features of this city is the number of ocean-view mansions that are strewn from the top of 'The Hill' to its base by the cliffs and beaches. Before I needlessly provoke the green monster within you, let me state that I'm from a middleclass family living on the inland fringe of this well-heeled city, and I don’t live in a mansion. But when I want to have fun in my city, I don't sit and stare at the real estate – I go to the beach, or even better, I go cliff jumping.

            Palos Verdes is built on a Peninsula with coves abounding, at least ten at my last count, and anyone who doesn't set out to explore them is making a mistake. The coves hold many rewards for the adventurer, from tide pools with fascinating sea creatures to wide stretches of sandy beach to thousands of smoothly rounded fist-sized rocks. But one of the most thrilling experiences to be found is cliff jumping into the ocean. There are only a few spots to go cliff jumping in PV, and not many people living there know about them. In my book, there's one cove that takes the cake as it has all the necessary components of a good cliff jumping spot: a pleasurable hike, challenging obstacles, and (of course) a good cliff from which to jump. I'm speaking of Abalone Cove.

            Abalone Cove is right off Palos Verdes Drive South with free parking available on the street by the fire station (which, if you’ve been following my blog, you’ll know is something of high importance to me). The hike from the street down to the beach is easy and signs along the trails will point you the way. Once you get there, simply walk along the beach all the way to the cliffs. Easy, right? But wait, these are not the cliffs you'll soon be jumping from – you have to hug these cliffs and work your way around a small peninsula to the cove next door, known as Sacred Cove to locals. As you finish rounding the peninsula, you will see a 10 foot wide space between the rock you are on and the bordering rock, with water surging through the middle. The only way across is to swim, but be careful! Rising and falling tides can be dangerous, and only explorers confident in their ability should attempt this. Once across, walk along one more beach until you reach the next peninsula, known as Inspiration Point. And you're there! At the base of the cliff you will find a little cave, and at the top of the mouth of the cave is a perfect ledge for jumping. Simply scale up the cliffs, which really isn't difficult, and launch yourself down the 30-foot drop! Unless the tide is ridiculously low, you don't need to worry about hitting the bottom. There is one large rock clearly visible that is easy to avoid, but do keep an eye on it when jumping, as a careless jumper could cause himself a serious injury.

A brave jumper in wetsuit dives into the water

            For those whose sense of adventure may fall shy of leaping from cliffs, many people come to Inspiration Point simply to enjoy this beautiful site with lots of sun and lots of ocean, bringing picnics and ready to stay the afternoon. There are great spots to surf at this beach and plenty of opportunities to investigate the surrounding area. You can even enter the cave I spoke of, as well as another nearby cave. But I'll leave the exploring of those to you because if I tell you all the secrets of Abalone Cove, I'll be taking away the fun! So have an adventure, be safe,  and enjoy beautiful Palos Verdes!

A Coffee Gem in the Valley

            For all you coffee lovers (and I'm talking to the true coffee lovers who are considered snobs by the rest of the world, not the coffee-lover-wannabes), there's a new coffee shop in town! This place has been around for almost a year now and if you haven't heard of or been to it yet—you're seriously out of the loop.

            Compañía de Café, or simply “Coffee Company” for those untrained in the language of Latin America, is a Mexican-American café located in Sylmar, which (if you've never been there) has a prominent Hispanic community. Sylmar isn't known for being the most high-brow part of town, so you might not expect to go there for fine dining or coffee. That's the very reason owner Gaby Arvizu established the coffee shop in the first place—her hope is to develop the small community into a well-built environment where fine shops and specialty coffee establishments thrive, and I'll say that Compañía is a great start to that goal!

            Upon walking into the store the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans will practically slap you in the face (not to worry, it's a very pleasant slap). With my increasingly discerning  nose I was even able to detect the distinct smell of recently roasted Ethiopian beans, which have a very fruity and citrusy scent and taste. The environment overall is remarkably inviting and eclectic, with furniture ranging from antique leather couches and fabric sofas to wooden chairs and metal stools. There isn't a single seat in the café that might match your expectation of a simple coffee shop like Peet's or Starbucks, but that bohemian vibe is one of the reasons I love Compañía. Good-sized tables are available for groups who've come to socialize, and bars with lamps and plug-ins for your electronics are available to those who've come to study. Compañía has even added something I have for years bemoaned the dearth of in coffee shops –outlets on the floor by every table, putting an end to the dreaded line of people waiting for access to one. Wherever you sit, you can be sure that your technology will be happy too.

            Now to the best part: the coffee. Compañía offers the Café de la House, their house blend, for most drinks, but for pour-overs they have a selection of beans from three different origins to choose from, which are always rotating. They always have a bean roast, if not two different roasts, from Ethiopia and usually one or two from the Americas. On my first trip to Compañía I got a pour-over from Yirgachefe, Ethiopia, and as soon as I took the first sip I was instantly in love with the cafe. The environment was enough to make me a fan, but the coffee sealed the deal and made me an addict. The cup of brew was smooth and delicate, with a rich citrus perfume and intense sweetness that had the profile of a blueberry. Every cup of coffee I've had since at Compañía has thoroughly delighted me, and I have yet to be disappointed. The staff is another plus, with very friendly baristas who ask questions preemptively to identify and match all your needs.

            Compañía de Café sets the standard for how all coffee shops should be, and in my book provides a great inspiration to the city of Sylmar of the kind of community Gaby Arvizu envisions. So fellow coffee lovers, add this café to your list of fine coffee establishments not to be missed! And to all you wannabe-coffee-snobs, Compañía is a good place to start.

How to Travel the World Without Leaving Home

            If you're like me, you love to travel to new places, eat new foods, try things that are entirely bizarre and unique experiences. I find that it is in the realm of things that are "new" and "different" where the best memories are made, and these memories become a vault of stories to pull from when in a social setting. But traveling isn't always cheap and is often difficult with busy work schedules. Sadly, for that very reason, many people with the travel bug will never get to experience many countries of the world which have cultural rituals that are like nothing they've ever seen and offer foods which will expand the boundaries of the taste buds. But if you're a resident of Southern California, I'd like to show you how we travelers can get a small taste of many of these countries which we would love to go to, simply by driving to downtown Los Angeles.

            Take, for example, Little Ethiopia. Little Ethiopia is only a small stretch of Fairfax Avenue in West L.A. that dates back to the early 1990's. This part of Fairfax has been claimed by Ethiopian restaurants, business, and residents as the representative microcosm of Ethiopia in America. For as long as I can remember my family has been visiting one restaurant in this part of town called Merkato. We've always loved Ethiopian food for its bold and complex flavor—oh, and did I mention that my family used to live in Ethiopia for two years? So the opinions of this writer will let you know that the taste you'll receive at Merkato is distinctly authentic.

            I wanted to take a group of friends to Merkato to challenge them to step outside their borders and try something new. So we drove down in a couple cars to L.A., and I told them nothing about what to expect. When we got to Fairfax Avenue, it was dark and the night life was picking up. Cars filled the streets, lights lit up the skies, and Ethiopian and Rastafarian residents littered the sidewalks (for all you history junkies, the Rastafarian movement began in Ethiopia, hence their prominence in Little Ethiopia).

            I led them to the restaurant, and when we went inside, they were all amazed at the different world they had just stepped in to. Small, round baket-woven tables with teepee-looking tops called mesobs was not what any of them were expecting. And around each mesob were five or six barchumas, or stools, that were only about eight inches off the ground. So we all took our seats on our own barchuma and we got a menu that none of us could read (including myself!). I had never learned the language of Ethiopia, called Amharic, because I was so young when I was there; but I had been eating Ethiopian food long enough to know what to order! So I ordered for us all. For meats we got yesiga zilzil tibs, strips of tender beef sauteed in spices with onions and peppers over a charcoal grill, doro wot, a spicy chicken stew with hard boiled eggs, and yebeg alicha, a mild lamb stew made with a base of chopped onions and spices including tumeric, garlic, and ginger; for vegetable stews (which are stable foods for most poor Ethiopians) I ordered yemisir wot, red lentil stew with onions, berbere, and fresh garlic and ginger, shiro wot, chickpea flour cooked with sauteed onions in a berbere sauce, gomen wot, collard greens cooked with onion, garlic and spices, and yatakilt alicha, a mixture of cabbage, potatoes, onions and carrots cooked in mild spices.

            Once the food was ordered we were able to take in the fullness of Merkato's ambience. Traditional Ethiopian music played throughout the restaurant and paintings covered the walls. The art of Ethiopia is often graphic and depicts war or hunting journeys. In one of the hunting paintings in Merkato, there are many poachers killing elephants, but some of the poachers are being killed themselves. Ethiopian art also includes many portraits and religious paintings. In addition to the paintings, the walls were covered with tapestry resembling animal skin. Around us were several Ethiopian people speaking Amharic to each other, some smoking as is permitted in this restaurant. The smell of freshly roasted coffee wafted through the room. Ethiopians often have coffee after a meal and roast the beans from green to black in a pan over a stove, and then let the ground beans steep in hot water for an espresso-like dessert.

            About twenty-five minutes passed and the food finally came. This kind of service might be considered slow for most Americans, but for Ethiopians, time is never a problem; in fact, many think it is rude to rush the customers by bringing the food, drinks, and check quickly because conversation is a large part of the dining experience. What the server placed on the mesob in front of us was a large round dish with an assortment of veggies and meats all in their own piles, scattered across the platter. My friends looked at the food in bewilderment, excited but nervous to try this new fare.

            Miah, one of my friends, asked, "Where's the silverware?" I replied, "Nature already gave it to you!" and lifted my hands to show that in Ethiopia, you eat with your fingers. "But you need to use the injera of course." Injera is a spongy, sourdough-like pancake that is made from teff, a grass native to Ethiopia. It has a natural salty and iron taste to it and is a perfect complement to the sweet and spicy dishes.

            I took the injera from the plate where a pile of injera rolls were, and ripping off a piece the size of my palm, I showed them how to eat food like a native Ethiopian. You use a piece of injera and grab a small handful of meat or veggies. Feel free to mix the flavors too! I reached in to the communal platter which we all would share and grabbed some yebeg alicha and put it in my mouth. The familiar taste of different herbs and spices made me feel at home. Miah eagerly grabbed a piece of injera to follow after me. He took a bite and his face changed from mild skepticism to pure delight. A similar reaction took place for the other four who were with us. Later they told me that they all had the same response, and they were all surprised at how good the food was and said that the overall experience was nothing less than enjoyable.

            I love to try new foods, and that's why I love L.A.'s diversity where I can explore Thai, Vietnamese, Peruvian and a wide selection of other ethnic foods. Check out Little Korea too, if you haven't been there! I can travel the world without ever leaving home! If you're one of those people like me, don't skip Ethiopian because that will likely be on the top of your list of strangest and most foreign foods.

Humbled at Pride Rock

            Tucked away in the Sierra Pelona Mountains, in northern Los Angeles County, is the National Park and natural phenomenon known as Vasquez Rocks.  If you stop by to pay a visit to these monolithic slabs of sandstone, you're sure to have your breath taken away.

            The historic site is famous for its 932-acres of bizarre and baffling rock formations that attract many visitors, hikers, and even Hollywood producers. The site has been used in various films as early as 1935 when it premiered in the Universal Studios motion picture Werewolf of London and has since only been used increasingly. Vasquez Rocks even appears in the original Star Trek TV series and as a result one of the most prominent rock structures there was nicknamed "Captain Kirk's Rock." 

Captain Kirk and a Gorn at Captain Kirk's Rock

            These massive rock structures aren't only a sensational sight, but they also have an extraordinary history as well.  There are two major views on how the Vasquez Rocks were initially formed. On the one hand, Uniformitarians (who believe the entire universe has slowly been formed over billions of years) believe the Vasquez Rocks were formed millions of years ago by rapid erosion during uplift along the San Andreas Fault.  On the other hand, those who hold to catastrophism (that the world and many of its features were formed only thousands of years ago during a worldwide cataclysm), believe that these rocks and even the greater surrounding region are evidence of a catastrophic flood during the days of Noah, as according to the Holy Bible.  Either way, these rocks are almost as old as history itself and when I was there I couldn't help but think about how many different people over the thousands of years have gazed upon this magnificent geological structure.

            The rocks got their name from the infamous Californian bandit Tiburcio Vásquez who fled to these rocks in order to escape the law enforcement pursuing him.  Even more interesting than that, these rocks and the region were the home of the ancient Shoshone and Tataviam peoples, Native American tribes who lived there from the 18th till the 20th centuries.

            When I first visited these rocks I was dumfounded as I beheld their greatness (I hadn't seen any pictures prior to my visit, and they completely superseded my rather low expectations).  Their structure immediately reminded me of Pride Rock, from Disney's The Lion King, and I later learned that Disney actually got the inspiration for their iconic rock from the Vasquez Rocks. And so I was humbled by the grandeur of the real-life Pride Rock.

The resemblance of Disney's Pride Rock to Vasquez Rocks is visible

            The giant sandstone slab you see in the above picture is climbable to the very top, and is relatively an easy climb, provided that you have shoes with very good grip.  If you do accept the challenge of going to the top—make sure you exercise extreme caution as the climb is incredible steep and slippery and if you lose your footing it will mean for you a very quickly accelerating ride down the face of Pride Rock! And I would not advise standing at the top of this rock; because of the windy climate which could easily make you lose your balance, it's safest if you remain sitting or lying down at the top.

            The Vasquez National Park is a huge area with abundant hiking trails.  I myself enjoy a good deal of risk and adventure so at one area of the park I climbed up a steep ravine which wasn't too difficult.  There are plenty of exploring and climbing opportunities at this park, and it might even be considered a jungle gym by some maniacal rock climbers.

            Two significant benefits of Vasquez Rocks are that it's free to enter and park and it's easy to find. This place is great for day trips, picnics, filming/photo shoots (I myself filmed a Wild West scene out here for a film class I took), or hiking.  If you decide to pay Vasquez a visit, just be sure you watch out for roaming aliens, outlaws, starship captains, and lion overlords!

Off the Deep End

If you like water parks and hiking, then you'll love Malibu Creek State Park, nature's best water park in LA County, just 25 miles from downtown.  I went there just last weekend with a group of friends to explore and seek out adventure—once they told me about cliff jumping opportunities at this scenic creek I was all in!  It's an easy spot to find, just off the 101 on Las Virgenes Road, and I recommend you do like us and take advantage of the free street parking on Mulholland Highway instead of paying to park at Malibu Creek (to park on the street is barely any farther from the parking lot and you'll save fourteen bucks!).

On our way to the creek, we passed through a field plentifully bestrewn with tall yellow flowers and grass (picture below).  The surrounding hills were green and lush, and we were all a little taken back by the majesty of the landscape.  Oddly enough, the view inspired at least three of us to begin singing "The Hills are Alive." 

 The hike from where we parked to the cliff diving location was only about a mile and we got to walk along part of the 25-mile long Malibu Creek.

Carefully crossing the creek.

Once we got to the primary location, it was like God's water park for the people of Los Angeles.  Children were laughing and playing in the water, families setting up picnics and barbeques, some people were traversing across the steep rocks, and those brave enough would dare to face the 45-foot jump from one of the cliffs into the pond below.  We set up our camp and strung hammocks in the trees and enjoyed the warm weather of Malibu. 

The top of those rocks is where the daring launch themselves into the pond.

 Home is where the hammocks are!

We then began our hike further up the creek by first swimming across the (rather cold) pond to the rocks on the other side.  From there we split into a few different groups who wanted to take different paths until we would meet a tenth of a mile down the creek. Some went hopping across boulders, others swam once again through the water, and I and one other chose to climb the vertical rock wall to the other side.  Once reunited, we continued our trek by jumping, sliding, or traversing our way up the flowing river.  We spotted a rope swing that someone had strung up on a tree branch and used it to launch ourselves into the river.  There were caves and caverns, detours and shortcuts, all of which kept me and my buddies (who love unguided adventures) entertained.  I'll leave finding them up to you since that's where most of the excitement of adventure was!  Of course, you need to be safe since it's easy to fall when climbing on rocks, and you should never attempt anything that's outside your comfort zone or capability.

We spent about three hours at the Malibu State Park and only scratched the surface of activities to do there.  So next time you're looking for some sunshine and amusement, be sure to check out Malibu Creek!

A diver splashing into the water.

Affordable Fun in San Diego

            I went to San Diego during my Spring Break to visit my sister and some friends who go to school down there.  Although I had the week off from school, they did not.  Hence, I found myself rather bored with all my free time while everyone else went to their classes.  On one of those days, a Tuesday, I planned to have a fun, full day spent downtown at an affordable cost—my mother gave me $50 for the week, I had already spent twenty, and I was determined not to spend more than the rest of what she gave me for my second to last day in San Diego.  So this poor college student was going to blow the rest of his lunch money in one of the largest cities of Southern California, but there was a catch—I would only spend it at places recommended by the locals.

            Of course I had to be miserly, so I did a little research and jumped at free opportunities.  My first stop of the day was at the Olympic Training Center in Chula Vista.  Okay, it wasn't quite in downtown San Diego, but it was an exciting attraction, not too far out of the way, and at a price I couldn't resist—free!

            When I pulled into the Olympic Training Center, a colorful array of flags representing different sports greeted me all the way up the driveway until I reached the actual training center and was confronted by a colossal Olympic USA banner which stood triumphantly over the parking lot.  It was a Tuesday morning, so the place was virtually empty.  Guided tours there are only on Saturdays, so I took the self-guided tour by calling the number I found at the visitor center.  A former Olympian, Jay Minero, answered my call—at least, his recording did—and he led me through the mile-long Olympic Path which trailed through the training center.  The tour as a whole takes about 40 minutes to an hour.  Visitors who walk this path get to see the BMX tracks, soccer fields, tennis courts, volleyball courts, softball field, and archery range where resident Olympic athletes  train, and the path also leads you by the athlete housing called Athlete Village.  From the path I could see some athletes roaming around, and I found myself fascinated by watching them.  I thought it so strange that a person's whole life revolved around training for that one particular sport.  Minero informed me that most athletes wake up at 7 a.m. and have a morning workout, eat breakfast, train for several hours, eat lunch, and then continue training until dinner time.  I can't imagine that kind of a routine, you'd be lucky if you saw me going to the gym once! 

            At the archery range I saw some athletes training, and I learned from Minero that most archery Olympians can hit the bullseye 85% of the time!  I still can't fathom the hard work it must take to gain that sort of skill, but it was very entertaining to see these athletes training to represent the USA.  To anyone looking to come by San Diego, be sure to take advantage of the free entry to the Chula Vista Olympic Training Center, and especially check out their BMX Hall of Fame at the visitor's center where they display historic bikes from the early 70's till now!

            After my free tour, I decided it was time for lunch.  And what better place to go than to Little Italy in downtown?  So I drove there and found a place on the street to park (I spent about $5 total for parking that day by staying on the streets.  Here's a tip: don't park in the public parking lots because they'll charge you $10 and up!).

            The musty, humid air of downtown littered with exhaust was a fresh of breath air.  I live in Palos Verdes where the air is relatively clean, and I had forgotten the smell of a downtown city  because I hadn't been to one in years!  The familiar smell brought back fond memories of my family vacation to San Diego five years previously.

            I walked down one of the streets in Little Italy and I was surprised (though I probably shouldn't have been) by how many Italians there were!  Of course I expected some Italians, but they were definitely the majority.  One thing I observed about the Italians is that they love to sit around and chat.  Everywhere I looked, Italians sat on the patios of restaurants, bars, cafes, and just talked with empty plates and glasses.  They truly understand how to make good conversation.  I approached a couple Italian men who were sitting outside of a coffee shop with a newspaper and empty espresso cups.  I asked them, "Excuse me, do you know where's a good place to eat here? Also, I'm trying to not spend a lot because I'm a college student."  One of the men, who had a large black mustache and looked about 50, answered in his thick accent.

            "Ah, you want to know where the good food is?  Or you want to know where the best food is?  Because nobody can make a meatball like Filippi!"

            "Ok, thanks!" I responded enthusiastically.  "Err, where is he?"  And he proceeded to tell me detailed instructions, even counting on his fingers how many blocks to go in which way and where to turn.  I was impressed how well this man knew the town, down to the very last corner!  So I followed carefully his instructions until I found Filippi's Pizza Grotto.

            When I entered the small restaurant it was like all of my senses where enhanced.  The dimly lit room forced my eyes to soak in all the deep, rich colors that surrounded me; I could hear a soft din of families and friends speaking in Italian around the restaurant; and a zesty, exciting smell of different sauces welcomed me to dine.  The hostess led me across the maroon, floral carpet to a table with a burning candle and a red and white checkered table cloth and I took a seat in the stained-mahogany chair with a deep garnet cushion.  After perusing the menu I ordered from my waitress what that one Italian man told me was Filippi's best: the meatball spaghetti.  After she left, I examined the marvelous artwork around the restaurant and noticed that hanging from the ceiling and all around were about 200 or more Bell'Agio Chanti wine bottles that had been hand-decorated.  It was certainly a neat environment.

            When my food came, I went straight for the meatball and was met with an explosion of flavors: basil, garlic, fresh tomatoes, fresh black pepper.  I'm not much a food expert, so I couldn't tell you exactly what was going on… all I know is that was the best meatball I've ever had in my life.  It was juicy and seemed to burst when I bit into it, and it was smothered in one of the richest, smoothest tomato sauces I'd ever tasted.  What's more is the pasta was all you can eat!  Okay, not really, but it was all I could eat.  They served me a gigantic dish that I had to labor over trying to finish.  I couldn't eat it all, but I got down about 90% of it and felt satisfied in resigning from the challenge.  That one Italian man directed me to the right place, and it wasn't even too pricey.  Only $13 after tax and a decent tip!

            I had to sit there a while until I could walk again with my well-filled stomach, but when I thought it was safe to make an attempt, I got up and headed back to my car.  My after-lunch activity was going to be another free attraction: Balboa Park.  This park is amazing—it has 17 museums (those unfortunately you have to pay for) and frequent music and art events.  I learned once I got there that San Diegan residents can enter certain museums for free on Tuesdays (and although it was Tuesday, I am not a resident, sadly).  But if you happen to be a resident, make sure you take advantage of the free museum entry!

            Parking at Balboa Park is free (that's my favorite kind of parking!), and I took a leisurely stroll through the gardens, observed the several giant water fountains, and listened to the archaic cathedral bells that sounded periodically.  There were also some live musicians around, and so I stayed near one and took a short nap on the grass—it was a lovely afternoon the trickling water, laughing children, and wonderful guitarist lulling me into a perfect afternoon nap.  Waking to the sound of the bells, I continued to roam a little more till the park started to close at 5 p.m.  On my way out, I asked the San Diego Art Institute museum clerk if I could just check out the exhibit for free, since there were only 15 minutes left before closing.  He let me in!  So I got to view briefly some of the art, which frankly, didn't amuse me.  But I guess that's how I've always been with most art, especially modern—it just doesn't make sense to me!  For example, there was one artwork called "Feral," done in 2004 by Louis Hock, and it was two different DVD projections on opposite ends of a room, one of a camera aimed at the waist of a police man directing traffic, and the other of this strange green dot that moved around.  And the audio playing for the projects was a chaotic sound of clicks, like someone dropping 1,000 hollow rocks on a PCP pipe, that sometimes sped up and sometimes slowed down.  Maybe to some folks that has deep meaning, but to me it's completely bizarre.

            I left Balboa Park shortly after five o'clock and headed to my final destination, the Gaslamp Quarter.  Named after its historic gas lamps that light the streets every night, this part of downtown is full of restaurants, tattoo parlors, coffee shops, and bars.  In fact, there were so many bars—about four per block!  It tells you something about what the Gaslamp Quarter is about: having a good time with the nightlife.

            Looking for a good coffee shop to sit, read, and people watch in, I asked a few people in the district for suggestions.  Out of the five I asked, three recommended The Coffee Bean, and two a coffee shop call Tabac, one describing it as "a pretty chill environment."  Having been to Coffee Bean many times, and never having heard of Tabac, I decided to try the latter.

            I found the coffee shop right on the corner of 3rd and Market Street, a quaint little shop that was rather inviting.  To my surprise, in addition to the pastries the café also offered hookah to compliment your coffee and even had an entire humidor filled with fine cigars (is that why the café is called "Tabac," to sound like "tobacco?")!  I guess a lot of people like to smoke with their coffee, so it makes sense to me, but it certainly struck me as unique.  What was not unique about this café, at least within the Gaslamp Quarter, was the pounding dance music from the stereo inside that was pretty distracting to me.  So after ordering my double espresso I took a step outside onto the patio to sip at it and read my book.  It was a warm evening, and around 5:30 the sun began to duck behind the surrounding buildings.  I was delighted with the quality of the espresso (three dollars, mind you), it was nearly a perfect concoction.  I could tell by the taste and texture that they used the best steaming techniques and fresh, high quality ingredients.  The time passed quickly as I read and rested my tired feet.  I wanted another drink, but thought I should try out another coffee shop while I was at it (I wasn't hungry yet because of my late and enormous lunch).  I thanked and complimented the cashier for the espresso and asked if she could recommend another coffee shop.  She told me about Pasha Lounge on Market and 5th.  Just two blocks down the street, perfect!

            So I leisurely strolled down Market Street watching the district begin its transformation into the nightlife as the streets got busier and crowds of people began to fill the sidewalks.  Something I noticed that fascinated me was that the smell of downtown changed from the musty smell of exhaust pipes to the smell of delectable foods being cooked: barbeque, various spices, breads… all wonderfully appetizing!  The evening was completely different—sights, smells, sounds—from the day.  It was peculiarly extraordinary, like a whole new world!

            I found Pasha Lounge, a restaurant, hookah store, bar, and café all in one.  I guess this is pretty typical in downtown!  I looked at the teas menu and ordered the Moroccan green mint, which was exquisite.  I tipped the girl a dollar because she was helpful and friendly and brought the drink and condiments to me outside on the patio (four dollars altogether).  As I sat there  watching the city undergo its alteration, the scent of hookah smokers came to me.  I've never smoked hookah, and never intend to for health reasons, but I must say the sweet scent of molasses, grapes, and herbal spices was quite pleasurable.

            At 6:28, the gas lamps came on and the nightlife of the Gaslamp Quarter was officially underway.  I stuck around enjoying the environment for another fifteen minutes and then decided it was time to head back to the apartment where I was staying to get some dinner.

            From eleven in the morning when I left the apartment, to seven in the evening when I left Gaslamp, I had a full eight-hour day of exploring and experiencing downtown San Diego.  I spent $13 on lunch, $5 on parking, and $7 on cafés.  For all I was able to do that day, $25 isn't too bad!  So if you're looking for something fun to do in San Diego and trying to keep a low budget, let the day I spent there offer you a few suggestions!