A Chicagoan’s Guide to San Diego Part 8: Blackouts

With all the huge storms and drunk drivers who end up smashed into electrical poles in Chicago, we’re pretty used to losing power. “Electricity doesn’t work?? Damn power company. At least I’d pre-programmed the DVR so I can watch Top Chef when they get it working again.”

While in San Diego, there was a rolling blackout and a subsequent freakout. The lower West Coast lost power around 4pm. We went to the convenience store to get some ice around 4:15pm but it was closed and the ice machine was already empty. The bottled water machine was empty. Other people pulled into the convenience store parking lot desperately hoping to get any sort of supplies and they told us not to even try to get to another grocery store. Everything was closed and the roads were madness. They’d been without power for 20 minutes, the weather was as non-threatening as it gets, and everyone was going into survival bunker mode. We just wanted ice to keep our beer cold until the fridge started working again.

A Chicagoan’s Guide to San Diego Part 7: Weather

In Chicago, my idea of a good day is one where I don’t have to step outside for anything except to let my dog out. The weather is always one extreme or another, but if I have to, I can safely brave the elements. San Diegans completely freak out with any slight variation from 72 degrees and sunny. The second day we were here it happened to be overcast and raining on and off. We went to the In N’ Out Burger where the guy who took our order seemed distracted. He apologized and said he kept thinking it was 7am (it was 4pm) because it was cloudy outside and he wasn’t used to it. I revved up to start a rant about how in Chicago you wake up and it’s sunny but by the time you get outside it’s storming with golfball-sized hail. Or how you can go weeks without so much as seeing the sun. My companion gently guided me away before I could get very far into it, though.

A few days later it was 80 degrees and natives kept apologizing to us for the weather. “What do you mean?” we’d ask.

“Oh it’s just so hot. It never gets this hot, this is killing me.”

Really. Eighty degrees with an ocean breeze and no humidity? I’ll take it!

Cosmic Brownies…. not THAT kind.

These brownies truly are somehow linked with 11:11. For as I snuck to the kitchen I was completely unaware of the hour. I selected a nice, firm-yet-moist corner brownie and then, just above where the brownies rest on top of the stove, the clock announced “11:11!” in all its neon teal glory.

I looked at the brownie, then back to the clock. Regarded the brownie once more, then said to the clock, “Yes. Yes I am happy now. Thanks for the brownie.” And walked away.

The brownie was delicious.

(if you have no idea why any of this is (in?)sigificant, please reference my Original 11:11 post and updates #1, #2, and #3 )

A Chicagoan’s Guide to San Diego Part 6: Wildlife

San Diego wildlife

Sea lions, humming birds, sharks and lizards are to San Diego as squirrels, pigeons, carp and rats are to Chicago.

Chicago wildlife

11:11 Continues

I haven’t had any noteworthy 11:11 experiences recently (if you’re not familiar with my adventures in 11:11, you can remedy your unfortunate state of ignorance by reading my original 11:11 post, and supplementary update#1 and update#2.)

But tonight one happened that could not be ignored.

As I was editing a short article, I glanced up at the clock on my laptop, aaannndddd…. 11:11pm. i shrugged a little at the insignificance of the moment but THEN

the timer on the oven went off. THE BROWNIES WERE DONE. Sweet, sweet 11:11 brownies. And I did the jig and waved my arms and shouted to the Universe, “I get it!! I’m happyyyy nowwwww!”

A Chicagoan’s Guide to San Diego Part 5: Fishing

You don’t need a fishing license to fish from San Diego’s piers. But you will need to know how to remove a stingray from your line.

How the Hell do you get one of these off your fishing line

If you don’t feel comfortable with this (as I didn’t) you can pay your way to go on a 1/2 day deep sea fishing excursion. Most of the excursions had some pretty bad reviews online, but we went for it anyway. Three seconds after I got on our boat I understood where the bad reviews were coming from. The bad reviews were from people trying to do family activities with their children. On the boat there are very few seats, the bathroom is basically a portapotty, and the “kitchen” consists of just one small grilling surface to make hamburgers, cheeseburgers, or BLTs and there’s nothing to do for 6 hours besides hook live anchovies under their jaw and up between their eyes, drop your line overboard and wait for 1-2 minutes until it hits the bottom of the ocean (many times your line will tangle in the reel while you’re waiting) and when you think you have a fish on the line you begin the arduous task of reeling in a 2-5lb fish and a 1lb weight from 300 feet down. It’s hard whether you have a fish or not. Then you do it again and again until the Captain says it’s time to go back to shore. I don’t suppose this would make a good activity for kids who are used to playing video games all day or for parents who are expecting a dinner cruise.

The boat, our Captain, and the birds

But for people who like to fish or just be out on the ocean in a boat, or are entertained by a goofy entourage of seabirds chasing your boat hoping for discarded bait, it’s fantastic.

A Chicagoan’s Guide to San Diego Part 4: Entertainment

San Diego wins in the novelty movie theater department. When I heard about Cinema Under the Stars it evoked a vision of the Vic’s Brew n’ View, only outside. I was way wrong. Even though Cinema Under the Stars doesn’t serve or allow booze, its cozy “cabanas” with fluffy pillows and blankets, thoughtful heat lamps, and dear old Gallagher-esque proprietor made Brew n’ View look like a dreary old theater selling overpriced beer to assholes who think it’s an appropriate place to pretend that they’re on Mystery Science Theater during the movie (wait, Brew n’ View is a dreary old theater selling overpriced beer to assholes who think it’s an appropriate place to pretend that they’re on Mystery Science Theater during the movie!).

Post Script: I’m not displeased with Mystery Science Theater. At all. I love MST3K dearly. It’s the idiots who (erroneously) think they’re funny enough to do the same thing at a public showing that grinds my gears.

A Chicagoan’s Guide to San Diego Part 3: Food

Sushi: OMG Yes.

Burgers: Animal Style

Chicago Style Pizza: I don’t even know why we tried. I guess we were curious. And hungry. To be fair, if you like a hefty helping of cardboard covered in canned tomato sauce topped with raw vegetables, by all means go for it.

A Chicagoan’s Guide to San Diego Part 2: Islands

All the pictures and maps we'd seen show Coronado "Island" like this; a lovely little island.

A surrey bike (that is not us in the picture)

Beware that what San Diegans call an “island” doesn’t exactly mean what the word “island” means to the rest of us. For example, when pedaling a surrey bike on Coronado “Island” one would think that if you stay on the oceanfront path, you’ll go around the island and end up back where you started. NOT TRUE. A few miles down the coast from where you rent the surrey bikes, the oceanfront path continues, without warning, onto a strip of land that just keeps going South until you end up in Tijuana. When you start seeing signs that say “Warning: Government Property Keep Out” you think you’re on the North side of the island where there’s a Naval base. Nope. Tijuana here you come. And in keeping with the San Diego navigational spirit, there are no signs to hint at where naive tourists should and should not go. To make matters worse, nothing screams “naive tourist” like a couple of young white people on a surrey bike.

This is what the "Island" really looks like. Coronado is at the upper left and there's a little strip of land that goes all the way to Mexico. Hooray!

A Chicagoan’s Guide to San Diego Part 1: Roads

Being from a mostly flat landscape, one takes it for granted that where there’s a highway entrance going one direction, the entrance going the other direction is close by. Like, across the street. And if it’s not thoroughly obvious where the highway entrance is, there are colorful signs showing you the way. Apparently I’ve been spoiled by the Cliff”s Notes version of highway design in the Midwest. The mountainous terrain of Southern California ensures that bi-directional highway access within the same few blocks is an impossibility. And unlike Chicago, San Diego does not provide its residents and visitors the luxury of signage to point you in the right direction. You’re lucky if you can get on a side street that goes straight from point A to point B without having to find your way around dropoffs into valleys and unexpected cliffs. Oh and just to make it even more fun, every street is one way going the wrong direction. Yay!  And just because you finally figured out how to get from point A to point B, good luck trying to get back from point B to point A again (here’s a hint: it’s not the way you came). Even Mapquest is fuzzy with their directions here.