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!