A Perfect Day in a Perfect Place: Balboa Park

Cymbidiums abound in Balboa Park's pleasantly shaded plant house

Land was set aside in 1868 by San Diego civic leaders for what was then called "City Park." The sandy, scrub-covered mesa that overlooked present-day downtown San Diego sat without formal landscaping or development for more than 20 years. It was renamed for Spanish explorer Vasco Núñez de Balboa in honor of the 1915 Panama-California Exposition, held in the Park that year. Today Balboa Park's total land parcel is 1,200 acres, and is one of the city's major destinations for locals and tourists.

The 1915-16 Panama-California Exposition commemorated the opening of the Panama Canal and provided a major impetus for the creation of the Park as it appears today—it was the first of two major Expositions that created many of the cultural institutions as well as the stunning architecture in Balboa Park. The San Diego Zoo was established in 1916, the second year of this exposition.


Most of the arts organizations along Balboa Park's famous colonnaded El Prado pedestrian walkway -including a popular restaurant with outdoor seating, The Prado - are housed in Spanish-Renaissance style buildings constructed for the 1915 Exposition. It was one of the first times that this distinctive, flamboyant architectural style had ever been used in the United States. The park features numerous cafes and restaurants for all budgets and tastes.

The Park also features a large lattice-style botanical building and lily pond for exotic plants and the Alcazar Garden set in a fantastical building straight from Arabian Spain, an Art Museum (one of 17 museums and collections) and frequent cultural events. A visitor could easily spend more than one day wandering about.

Balboa Park was declared a National Historic Landmark, and a National Historic Landmark District in 1977.

The Roar Heard 'Round the World: San Diego Zoo

The San Diego Zoo grew out of exotic animal exhibitions abandoned after the 1915 Panama-California Exposition,as did neighboring Balboa Park (more about this verdant and multiple-use setting in the next blog).

The temperate, sunny maritime climate of San Diego was well suited to many plants and animals. Besides an extensive collection of birds, reptiles, and mammals, it also maintains its grounds as an arboretum, with a rare plant collection. The botanical collection includes more than 700,000 exotic plants including some rare animal foods: 18 varieties of eucalyptus trees to feed its koalas, and when Chinese pandas were in residence, the zoo grew 40 varieties of bamboo for their dining pleasure.

The San Diego Zoo also operates the San Diego Zoo Safari Park, which displays animals in a more expansive setting than at the zoo. Animals are regularly exchanged between the two locations, as well as between San Diego Zoo and other zoos around the world, usually in accordance with Species Survival Plan recommendations.

Exhibits are often designed around a particular habitat. The same exhibit features many different animals that can be found side-by-side in the wild, along with native plant life. Exhibits range from an African rain forest (featuring gorillas) to the Arctic taiga and tundra in the summertime (featuring polar bears). Some of the largest free-flight aviaries in existence are here and afford an amazing opportunity to view exotic species up close from the many benches and rest areas that dot the walkways. Many exhibits are "natural" with invisible wires and darkened blinds (to view birds), and pools and open-air moats (for large mammals).

The San Diego Zoo has had a number of notable escapees through the years, the most noteworthy of them is Ken Allen, a Bornean orangutan who came to be known as "the hairy Houdini," for his many escapes (undoubtedly related to Richard Parker, the stowaway tiger in Yann Martel's fabulous book "Life of Pi" (and the equally wonderful movie of the same name).

Off to the Sun: A Sad Day for Panda Fans

Say goodbye to Bai Yun and Xiao Liwu

Bai Yun and Xiao Liwu are the stars of the San Diego Zoo, a mother-son duo who spend their days the way I wish I could: eating, climbing things, and taking naps, all in front of their adoring fans. Giant pandas have been a staple at the zoo since 1996, and Xiao Liwu — also known as Mr. Wu — is the sixth cub to be born and raised in San Diego.

He may have the United States listed on his birth certificate, but Xiao Liwu is the property of China. In spring of 2019, the zoo announced it was time for him and Bai Yun to return to their ancestral homeland, leaving San Diego without pandas for the first time in more than two decades.

In 1996, not much was known about panda behavior, and pandas were struggling to breed in zoos. Staffers at the San Diego Zoo and their Chinese counterparts came up with a conservation strategy, and started learning all they could about pregnancy, birth, and maternal care, through Bai Yun.
Bai Yun was a gift to researchers. She gave birth to Hua Mei in 1999, the first surviving giant panda born in the United States.

While there are still only about 2,000 pandas in the world, they have been downgraded from endangered to vulnerable on the International Union for Conservation of Nature's Red List of Threatened Species.

Off to the Sun: A Light on the Bay

It was a glorious day by any standard. The drive out to Cabrillo National Monument and the Old Point Loma Lighthouse wends through  some of San Diego's heavily landscaped neighborhoods, ending in beautiful, flower-bedecked Point Loma. This is, in fact, where Juan Cabrillo stepped ashore in 1542, the first European to visit what would become America's west coast.
This is a stunner of a park. The hills and surrounding trails are painted brilliant yellow with thousands of wild daisy-like groundsels and fragrant goldenrods.

Though we arrived at the wrong time to see the tidepools (low tide would occur after the park closed), the views from the water's edge were delightful, made more so by frequent flybys from dozens of brown pelicans singly, in pairs or groups.

Image courtesy of Carol Squire

The lighthouse is the "Old" Point Loma Lighthouse because, when it came into service in 1855, the builders figured its location was ideal - slightly more than 400 feet above the water. Unfortunately, fog and low-hanging clouds  often obscured the light, making it useless to mariners. In 1891, the light was moved down the point closer to the water, and the old light was decommissioned. Today, the interior seeks to recreate the living quarters of the families who resided there. A trip into town in the nineteenth century would have been an all-day affair; light-keepers and their families often created their own amusements, schooling and sundries.

Image courtesy of Carol Squire

The park offers the one-mile Coastal trail and two-mile Bayside trail (both distances are round-trip), and is an excellent viewing spot for whale migration in the winter months. The visitor's center provides additional information on the park's features.

It's a class 3 Frenel lens, since you asked

Image courtesy of Carol Squire

Off to the Sun: The First Mission

Much as I love the historical aspect of visiting the missions, I have strong mixed feelings about the role of the Franciscan Fathers in California's past. It's no secret that indigenous people were mistreated by many in the Mission system, and San Diego de Aclala was no exception. Founded in 1769, it was  moved to the present site in 1774 for better access to water and farmland. By 1775 the Mission had so angered the locals that they attacked the grounds, burned the buildings to ash, and beat the presiding Padre to death (Padre Luis Jayme subsequently became the first Christian martyr in California - no surprise there)

In 1776, Junipero Serra (who took over the missions after serving the inquisition in Mexico by naming a few high-flying witches) took the site in hand, rebuilding it with a fortified wall to repel further attacks. He met with considerably more success, baptizing over a thousand converts by 1797, and expanding the site to include 20,000 sheep, 10,000 cattle and 1,250 horses.

image courtesy of Carol Squire

The Mission fell to ruin during the independence of Mexico from Spain and after the war between the U.S. and Mexico a few years later. Returned to its former glory in 1976, it was named a minor basilica (a church with certain privileges related to the Catholic canon), and remains to this day an active parish for the Catholic community. This little sweetie pie on the right was being baptized during our visit.

Image courtesy of Carol Squire

As was the habit of Spanish explorers, the bay of San Diego was named for the Catholic saint whose name day it was - Saint Didacus (Diego) of Acala - by Captain Sebastian Viscaino upon his arrival in 1602. Didacus, a Spanish Franciscan who became a healer during the 15th century,  was canonized (named a saint) in 1588.

The grounds of the Mission are pleasantly planted and the museum on the grounds is worthy of a stroll.

Off to the Sun: Desert to Ocean - Beautiful San Diego

The last time I was in San Diego, I visited the (considerably smaller) zoo and drove through into Mexico. This time, I was visiting a dear old friend who found me after a years-long separation. Thank you, Internet! Getting off the plane and driving to Carol's home at the border of North and South Park was like stepping into a desert mirage - water, water everywhere.

 The harbor is justifiably famous, and San Diego is a happening town. That evening, we went to dinner in one of the hot neighborhoods, The Gaslamp Quarter in Old Town. Once the purview of winos and the homeless, this long street lined with Victorian buildings interspersed with modern storefronts and illuminated with gaslamp-style electric lights was packed on a Saturday night with folks out for a fine meal, nightclub or stroll. It was a scene! We ate at a Thai place with excellent curries and Yum Nuea (spicy beef salad), Sab Lai Thai Kitchen. It was voted the best Thai restaurant in the city in 2017, and is on the main drag, 5th Ave., in the Gaslamp.

After dinner, we buzzed another local hotspot, Little Italy. San Diego has gone all out to make parts of the town true destinations, and this was no exception. India Street is the central road here, and is connected to the other main street, Columbia, by Piazza della Famiglia, a 10,000-square-foot plaza with a dramatic tiled fountain. Little Italy is known for its restaurants, and, like the Gaslamp, it was packed on Saturday night.


After dinner, we went to Carol's home and I met her loyal guardians, two enormous Australian shepherds.
That's Rio, on the right wondering how soon he can maneuver his way onto a lap for a belly scratch. Lido, on the left, just wants to adore you.





The next morning, we toured the neighborhood, which borders the east side of Balboa Park and is a destination in itself: North and South Park.  The area is a fascinating combination of a real neighborhood with eateries full of locals, shops where people actually know your name, and a destination with a number of craft breweries and boutiques.

Inside the Big Kitchen

More than a few of the establishments have been around for years, including the popular Big Kitchen Cafe on 30th and Grape. Most of the homes here are California Craftsman style with a few Victorians thrown in - an architecture that - to me anyway - typifies a southern California town. All in all, a great place to visit and explore.

Off to the Sun: An Unlikely Oasis for Thoroughly Covered Ladies

Interior of St. Anthony's Church - note "standing room only". Only children and the elderly sit during a service

My friend Michele took the lead on my last day in AZ and drove out to a most unlikely oasis: St. Anthony's Greek Orthodox Monastery in Florence, about 15 minutes outside of town. Miles of sand, dust, scrub punctuated by the occasional saguaro gave way to a place that appeared to be air-lifted whole from Greece. The plantings, the fountains, the chapels, the acres of citrus in full bloom - it was almost hallucinatory. 

The latest in Ortodox fashion

After pulling into the parking lot, we walked under the arch and filed over to the gatehouse where attentive Greek women (covered head to toe) dressed us up over our garments, making sure that 1. all pants and legs were covered by skirts, 2. no bare arms or neckline were on view 3. hair and neck were completely covered and 4. no bare feet were exposed. I have to give them credit; from a trunk of skirts, scarves and shirts, they managed to put together some semblance of a matching outfit for every female visitor. Naturally, male visitors just breezed right through (though long sleeves and long pants were required). We ladies were warned to not look at, photograph or speak to any of the monks, and to avoid them whenever possible.

Though the requirements for entry seemed excessive, they were merely hot (it WAS over 80 degrees), and so worth it. The grounds were like a fairyland of semi-tropical plants: flaming bougainvillea, palms of all sorts, jasmines and more all anchored by pleasant sitting areas and a variety of fountains. The citrus fields were in full bloom, scenting the air with each breeze. The grounds were also home to St. Anthony's church and six different chapels, each dedicated to a different saint, all unique in materials and decor. It was here that I adopted two more saints (I'm already a big fan of St. Jude, patron saint of impossible causes). Welcome St. Nectarios the Wonderworker and Nicholas the Wonderworker. Who could resist a few wonders worked?

Icons everywhere

This was a special treat for me, as my grandmother was Orthodox (though from the Russian branch), and I recognized both the style and identity of many of the icons in the chapels. I always thought the babushka (headscarf) my grandmother wore most of her life in public was a fashion statement, not a religious requirement. In Russian, babushka is another word for "grandmother".

 

The Monastery was founded in 1995, when several monks were brought from the Philotheou Monastery on Mt. Athos in Greece. They built the main church, living quarters for monks, a dining hall, and guest quarters. The Monastery has since expanded to include the chapels, gardens, citrus and olive orchards. The monks and novices hold all things in common and follow a strict daily schedule of prayer, work and spiritual reading. Orthodox guests are invited to the Monastery to spend a few days in contemplation. The front "wall" of the church and chapels (pictured at left and in the top picture) is actually a screen - the priests perform sacred parts of the religious ceremony behind it during the service.

Chapel ceiling

Speaking of Mt. Athos, after our visit to the Monastery, we stopped at the Mt. Athos Resaurant in Florence, keeping with the mood of the day. Started by a family of New Yorkers who fled west after 9/11, the food is quite good - especially the traditional Greek dishes. It was a bittersweet goodbye to Florence, Arizona - the next day I was boarding an American jet to San Diego.

St. George chapel's resident pussycat

All images by Joanne Orion Miller unless otherwise noted

Off to the Sun: A Really BIG Cave, and Daisy Mae's Revenge

Now that's a BIG cave! Image courtesy of Michelle Thompson, Karnchner Caverns State Park

We have soda straws, columns, birdsnest needle quartz, totems, heicites, rimstone dams - and, in case you're hungry, brushite moonmilk, turnip shields, popcorn, and bacon. Unfortunately, none of these are edible, but all are truly incredible. I'm mostly a dry cave connoisseur, like the ones I visited in my trips to France and Spain to see the cave art in 2013. Dry caves are just that - open to the air, and dried out, therefore no longer growing formations such as soda straws and moonmilk. Karchner Caverns is a wet cave, and the water coming from the land above the cave continues its slow path through layers of limestone and earth to create a fantastical underscape in a series of large rooms. The formations take millions of years to solidify; first the hollow soda straws aggregate calcium and other minerals, growing down from the cave ceiling, filling out over thousands of years to create stalactites. Sometimes they break from their own weight, other times water drops on the floor below to form a cone, a stalagmite -they meet, and a column is formed. In the picture above, the massive column in the middle of the large room is one of the biggest in the world, named Kubla Kahn, six stories high.

Karchner Caverns is the most popular State Park in Arizona, and with good reason. Heroic measures have been taken to not only preserve the cave interior and its timeless work, but to make the cave accessible to everyone. It's a triumph of conservation and education, and the rangers on duty clearly love the cave and can't wait to share it with visitors. The cave was discovered by a couple of amateur spelunkers in 1974, who wriggled through coat-hanger-sized holes from room to room in complete darkness. The pair kept the cave secret until 1978. Its transformation into a State Park reads like a suspense novel. It truly is a wonder for all ages. In addition, the park is designated as a dark sky site - no ambient light topside at night for you stargazers.

Image courtesy of Michelle Thompson, Karchner Caverns State Park

And just in case you're in the market for a new stuffed toy, this ancient cave sloth (about the size of a refrigerator with legs) was found in the cave - just the bones, of course. Small openings on the hills above the caves came and went over the eons, permitting animals - generally smaller than this guy - to wander in.

No visit to the area would be complete without a stop at a cowboy (cowgirl, actually) bar. Daisy Mae's Steakhouse is a local favorite in Tucson, the kind of place that has dollar bills pinned to the walls and a thin yellowish veneer on the 1960s wood paneling, from the years when people could actually smoke inside. Now the smoke is relegated to the mesquite barbecue pit outside. Did I mention the meat? It was GOOD. My friend had the pork chop and I had ribs, both served with all-you-can-eat beans and cowboy toast, plus baked potato with butter and sour cream. Oh yes, a chopped salad to start, but that hardly put a dent in the carb/protein fest that is Daisy Mae's. A local told me the place used to be named L'il Abner's (the professional matress-tester husband/boyfriend (?) of Daisy Mae in the old comic strips). I guess Abner snoozed his way out of the partnership and left Daisy to mind the pit.

All images by Joanne Orion Miller unless noted

Off to the Sun: Paint, Pour, Pour, Pour

Climbing up to 83 degrees on April 3rd. Ah, spring in the desert

It's not all fun and games. Wait! It is! After our astonishing night at the Desert Botanical Garden, we needed to (sort of) rest. So the next day it was off to Paint-N-Pour, an event put on all over the area by a couple of local artists at the Windmill Winery in Florence. The winery is set in a very cute little farm and pours wines from all over the world, though the website is a tad misleading - lush as it looks, it's in the middle of miles of desert. The $35 fee included our first glass of artistic lubricant, and a good time was had by all. Completed artwork included interpretations of Native women in blankets, crazed yurts, surfboards, deranged hot dogs, and in one case, "My Mother's Apron".

Image courtesy of Paint N pour

 Our creative senses alight, we went home to sleep it off, and to prepare for the next day's two-and-a-half-hour drive to Karchner Caverns State Park south of Tucson.

 At home, Coco patiently awaited the unveiling of our new works of art, slated to be hung in the world-famous garage gallery. Or was it dinner she was waiting for...?

 All images by Joanne Orion Miller unless otherwise noted

Off to the Sun: I am Amazed; A Magical Night in the Garden

Image courtesy of Desert Botanical Garden

Chihuly glass "cactus" at the entrance to DBG

 On this, my second trip to the Desert Botanical Garden (DBG) in Scottsdale, I was expecting something WAY out of the ordinary - and I surely was not disappointed. The garden is always fantastic - 55 acres of carefully planned and beautifully maintained plantings that bring together the best of the southwest. The succulents, cacti and exotics that thrive in the relentless sun of desert climates are combined into an art form here. If you think deserts are nothing but sand and scrub, the DBG will change your perspective forever. It's the place that made me appreciate the stark beauty of a single cactus against a rainbow sunset.

But tonight was special. We had come to see Electric Desert. The Klip Collective, a group of video and sound artists from Philadelphia put together their first garden "show", Nightscape, at Longwood Gardens in Pennsylvania - that alone was enough to make me want to see what they had done at DBG. I had visited Longwood a number of times for my books on Pennsylvania (the original editions of Pennsylvania Handbook, Moon Travel/Avalon Publishing). As DBG is to the desert, Longwood is to the lush deciduous greenery of the mid-Atlantic. I was prepared to be impressed, and it was magical.

Image courtesy of DBG

Bands of light played across saguaro cactus and tall trees, swirling into patterns and colors, accompanied by a tinkling, thrumming trance-inducing sound track. 

Image courtesy of DBG

The path that winds through the garden opened into different "rooms", each with its own unique style of color and lighting. Still photos, though beautiful, don't capture the sounds and movement of the installation. To get a glimpse of the DBG installation, check out this video.







 The coup-de-grace was the mountain behind the gardens, lit with dancing patterns; lights shot upward like towers set in the mountain itself, making it look as though the entire mountain was about to lift off...I don't know how they did it, but it was mesmerizing, beyond fantastic. Check out the video here. And since you've been especially good, and because Klip is generously making their work available for everyone to see on Vimeo, here's another video of DBG from them. If you have a chance, see it in person on a warm summer night in Scottsdale, or follow Klip Collective to their next triumph.

Image courtesy of DBG