Where the Hip and Homeless Live in Harmony
Lacking confidence in Wall Street’s ability to right itself or the government’s willingness to crack the whip, two years ago I took a fair amount of our dwindling savings out of underperforming stock funds and bought a little 1920s bungalow in San Diego.
Lacking confidence in Wall Street’s ability to right itself or the government’s willingness to crack the whip, two years ago I took a fair amount of our dwindling savings out of underperforming stock funds and bought a little 1920s bungalow in San Diego.
As for our house, it’s unlikely to stop passersby in their tracks, which, as I noted to my increasingly alarmed spouse, should keep the burglars at bay. And if they managed to break in, the floor plan is so illogical they wouldn’t know where to look first.
The renovation wasn’t going to be as bad as many we’ve gone through — and there have been many — because this was a distance-renovating project and too small to fail. For no reason other than he brought his rescue dog with him to the first interview, we hired a contractor we knew little about.
When the project was two-thirds of the way done, we paid a short visit to San Diego, “America’s finest locale”, and were stunned to find that the contractor had made a few design decisions of his own. The tiles on one bathroom floor were wall tiles; the toilet was a few feet off center in another bathroom, as a kind of focal point? More like a white elephant!
After convincing the ex-contractor that if there were going to be any lawsuit, we’d be the ones suing, he stopped sending us threatening letters. We pulled ourselves together, called everyone we knew, and hired another contractor, a real professional and a stand-up guy.
After Christmas, my husband and I tested the house out and found it comfortable and quiet. We read books in our backyard, took long walks in our well-aged neighborhood, where the sidewalks and streets are wide and inviting, and along the sandy beaches.
For a few days, we actually acted like tourists — driving and walking through parts of the city we hadn’t investigated in years. Downtown, near Petco Park, where the Padres play and many of the young and hip have moved, was our first destination. Not sure where the hip eat, as there only seem to be coffee shops in the area, but that keeps them trim. So, too the growing homeless population who pick up the discarded coffee cups in search of a sip. (I know the weather is nice enough that it’s easier to be homeless in southern California than many other parts of the country, but the growing number of people living on the streets is troubling.)
We walked right past the Convention Center and the overly touristy Seaport Village to North Harbor Drive, where the USS Midway is permanently moored. It opened as a museum in 2004 and is right up there with the zoo and Sea World as a popular and visitor attraction. As the brochure says, you can “experience life at sea without leaving port”. After you tour the museum, take the nearby ferry to Coronado and you’ll understand why so many ex-military servicemen and women flocked to San Diego after World War II.
In search of junk shops, which seem to be going the way of mom and pop stores, we headed north of Balboa Park, which is museum row, as well as the location of the famed zoo. In North Park we discovered Mid-Century Design and Atomic Bazaar, both of which were filled with gently-used and reasonably-priced mid-century furnishings. On the way back to our house, we stopped at Mission Gallery, from whom we’ve bought real antiques and lots of interesting odds and ends since 1985.
From our little bungalow, when the trees are not in full bloom, you can see a bit of the water, the airport, the way down to Old Town. I routinely walked down and back up from Old Town — the inclines of Juan and Bandini streets are not for the faint of heart, but they allowed me to enjoy all the feasts of the holidays. San Diego is a walker’s paradise — just ask our 11-pound mutt who made the trip with us — and the perfect biking town.
We arrived back in Rye to San Diego weather. Now you know why we bought a little bungalow almost 3,000 miles away.
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