Nea Fane – Un Biet Român Pripășit în America / A Hapless Romanian Stuck in The US

1. The Lodging
2. Pines Park
   1. Sunrise in Pines Park
   2. Sunset in Pines Park
3. Dana Point Marina
4. Venice Beach
5. Newport Beach and the Famous Route 1
6. San Clemente Beach
7. La Jolla
8. Instead of The End

Some before-you-read considerations:

• the photos are best viewed on a big screen
  • they are also optimized for smartphones, so don’t feel bad, use what you have
• YouTube movies are for relaxation purposes – what can be more relaxing than listening to the waves (well, maybe listening to a creek in the mountains)

The Lodging

I always bring up August 2020 because, in November of ’19, we had also gone to the California Coast. It’s like a whole different era, a completely different life. We were young and carefree. Even though Covid was all over the place and we had to wear masks outside and inside, it wasn’t too bad.

We crashed at this super cool bungalow that Irina found on Airbnb. It was meant for two or four people, and there were three of us, plus the super fluffy Baloo, so we were good. Aunt Alma had never been to California, so we couldn’t leave her behind in Arizona. Our friends quickly rented the two small houses next door, and that’s how the Romanian invasion of Elisabeta’s houses began.

My Baloo was absolutely stoked with the grassy yard, thick and green, with shade and folks to bark at and let them know that Baloo Of Arizona had arrived. We had the front bungalow, our friends had the apartment above the garage, super modern and, depending on the wind direction, an ocean view (or not). The other friends (with their dog, Rhea) had the house with a big yard surrounded by a high fence where, obviously, we’d hang out in the evening and let the dogs play until they fully exhausted themselves, at which point we had to carry them to bed.

In the backyard, it was the host’s place, and they had this tiny old dog who had surgery not long ago. We made sure to keep him separate from the other two dogs. We thought Baloo was 50 pounds when we checked to see if he met the requirements, but can you believe he’s almost 80 pounds now? We took him to the vet three days before we left, and the doctor was shocked to see how much he had grown. Anyway, Irina always checks with the hosts before bringing the dog, even though their place is officially pet-friendly. She’s honest like that, and we were good to go.

I just couldn’t help myself and I took some more pictures …

Speaking of pictures and travels, forget about following chronological order — I’m just gonna group the pics based on the places I’ve been, or at least give it a try. For instance, I hit up the park near our place eight times in three days — the weather was nice, and it was close by, with luscious grass. Baloo tagged along several extra times, too; whenever someone else was up for a stroll, I’d be like, “Take him with you!” By the end of the day, he could barely move. In Arizona, you’d take the dog out twice a day, at 5:30 in the morning and 8 in the evening. Here, I’d be out anytime, and he was totally surprised but loving it.

I’m leaving here the map where we stayed, ’cause I’ll probably forget in a month. Right near the house, there was this little restaurant with poke bowls (you know, that Hawaiian thing with raw fish that’s good for everything), a liquor store, and a Tattoo Parlor. Even though we were up for some drinks, we stayed sober enough so as not to wake up with any tattoos. The clever folks over there close their shop when the lights in the liquor store go out. Apparently they have their fair share of tipsy customers and figured out they were making more money with the booze-loving crowd.

The rule was, you leave the house, go left, left again, a bit to the right, and there you are: at the park. Not a big deal, right? But the first time I went there, because I’m that special, I went left, left, left, and no park in sight! So there I was, strolling slowly with Baloo (well, it’s not like I went with anyone else), trying to find my way, and I stumbled upon this cute little park tucked between two houses. It had a bench and an amazing view of the ocean. It’s called Chloe Luke Overlook, probably because of the view.

It was the spot “to connect with your inner self,” and, even though I now knew the way to the other park, I kept coming back here (well, there was also the advantage of a bin where I was able to toss Baloo’s business, to be real).

Pines Park

Pines Park is such a stunning spot: super tidy, with a killer view of the harbor and the ocean. It’s where folks stroll with their furry friends (or not), with kids in tow (or not), and there’s even a very smart set-up playground. Plus, they host weddings and other cool events there.

During the Covid times, I saw a wedding there with just a handful of guests, the parson, who led the ceremony, a couple of guitarists who performed amazingly, both with their instruments and their voices, and, of course, the bride and groom. There were also plenty of face masks, including mine, but nobody wore them, being outdoors and all.

If I’m hanging out at the park at any time of the day or night, I’ll take some cool photos – you know, the serious ones like sunrises, sunsets, and dawn.

Sunrise in Pines Park

It’s obvious that, with the Pacific Ocean to the west as you gaze from California, the sun sets in the water and then comes up behind the hills and houses. Elementary, right?

The pics above were taken around six or seven in the morning. The ones below were taken at half past five, when the park was supposed to be closed. Fortunately, there’s no fence at the entrance, so I got in anyway. Just as a caution, if you happen to get killed before six, it’s on you ’cause the park was officially closed: you get no help from the cops. If it happens after six, you get help. But you’re still dead, of course. When I got there, there was this guy from Iowa, also amazed by the ocean, taking pictures. Actually, it didn’t matter at all where he was from, but his car was the only one there, and I thought I’d play detective.

In the end, both me and my soul were totally stoked. I had to snap the pics with my phone ’cause, you know, the semi-pro camera was MIA at home, feeling all lonely and sad. Thankfully, the Nightscape mode came through, but man, I had to hold still like I was frozen or something! Shoutout to Baloo for giving me some space for those precious seconds, especially because the squirrels were stirring and only a fellow dog owner can relate to that kind of madness!

Sunset in Pines Park

In the heart of it all lies The Bluff, that awesome Dana Point headland with a swanky golf course, the kind of place you’d find at a good resort. There are some pretty sweet hotels and even The Oceanographic Institute. Oh, and don’t forget the harbor where the fishing boats chill in the evening, while the non-fishing boats just do their thing. I took these pics around 7:30 in the evening, but by 5 in the morning, the fishing boats were already out at sea. This time, I whipped out the fancy camera!

But hey, let’s not talk about Pines Park too much, whether it’s morning, night, or daytime, ’cause we’re all about the water, the beach, the waves, and the sand. Most important, we’re here to just chill for five minutes and unwind.

Dana Point Marina

I was here back in 2019 and took loads of pics. Took some more this time around. Oh, and we had a great meal at Proud Mary. Also picked up some smoked fish from Jon’s Fish Market, delicious stuff. And let’s not forget about Covid – some with masks, many without. God help us all!

Totally by accident, this pic ended up being the bomb! I just snapped it on the go with my phone, planning to send it to my buddy in Romania. He WhatsApp’ed me up asking where I was, and I was like, “Check it out, I’m right here!”

While I was preparing to write a little history of the city, including Mr. Dana, who invented it, and how he came with his ship, The Pilgrim, I stumbled across an article that really saddened me. “The Pilgrim”, where the classes of the Oceanographic Institute were held, sank in April 2020 for no natural, apparent, or official reason, and all efforts to resurrect it proved futile. I leave here a picture taken last year:

Venice Beach

The two of us, Irina and I, went to Venice Beach seven years ago for my birthday. I was totally into it because it was packed with people, absolute craziness, hot girls in tiny swimsuits, and a ton of energy. Irina, on the other hand, wasn’t feeling it at all for the exact same reasons.

Now, Aunt Alma was with us and we were like, “Let’s take her there because Venice Beach must be seen in person, not just in movies.” I was kinda racing against the clock because Baloo could only be on the boardwalk until eleven o’clock in the morning. I did my thing and managed to get there at a quarter to ten. It was all good though, ’cause things really start happening around 10 in the morning. We were up bright and early, and the shops were just opening. Venice Beach has its own special time zone. Some folks might say it’s got its own smell too, totally different from the ocean – the scent of marijuana, exotic aromas, and pee.

There were loads of homeless folks camped out on the sidewalks and in the alleys, but they were really decent. Some of them even watched over our car. They noticed I was struggling with parallel parking and took pity on me. Then the cops showed up and had a casual chat with them. “Hey Johnny, what’s up Mike, still kicking it?” Just light, morning conversation.

We stumbled upon the canals of Venice Beach a few years back and it was totally awesome! The area isn’t huge, but it’s a nice walk, although it can get kinda stuffy when it’s hot. It was almost noon, super hot, and poor Baloo was totally panting, you know? We took some pics, had a blast, and then we met this sweet grandmother and her grandson who were watering the garden. She was so nice, she even let Baloo have a drink from the hose, and then she sprayed him a bit. The furry dude tried to keep walking for our sake, but he was completely done. He was like, “Hey, let me check out the view for five more minutes and then I’m out, okay?” Such a character!

The houses were super cool to check out, each one different from the next. They all had a little dock, a cute little rowboat, and a charming little courtyard. Since it was Sunday, there were folks in their yards, so you greeted them, complimented their houses, and it made their day. We ended up chatting and it was really nice.

Newport Beach and the Famous Route 1

From now on, the day gets a bit crazy. So, we were chilling in Venice Beach, near Los Angeles, and we thought, hey, let’s also hit up Newport Beach to find some Italian prunes for niece Amanda. I showed Alma a pic from the farmers market in Dana Point, and she showed it to her daughter-in-law, who suddenly decided she couldn’t survive without some Catalina plums. Newport was like smack dab in the middle of Los Angeles and Dana Point, and they took great pride in their own farmers market.

So, Sunday at lunch time in Newport Beach with Irina, Alma, and Baloo. Baloo was a saint: he didn’t say anything. His Aunt was giving him a massage, the air conditioning was on full blast, and he was purring like a kitten.

I was so nervous, my brain was almost boiling. The cars, bumper to bumper, the pedestrians, like rabbits. This is not why we had come to the ocean. I had my good place in Dana Point, I could have laid there, doing nothing, but instead I ended up in the middle of Traffic Hell. On top of everything, I was getting hungry. Or, in one word, hangry.

Irina, willing to help, said she found a pub that allowed dogs. We arrive near the pub, and we see ten cars queuing to enter an already full parking lot. On the streets, you couldn’t park so much as a scooter. I had already parallel-parked in Venice Beach in twelve moves, seeing the homeless people having the time of their lives watching me, placing bets, and almost calling the TV show, the one with funny videos. The idea of attempting parallel parking once again gave me chills.

I totally lost it and snapped at Irina, at which point she got all proud and quiet, just when I needed her help the most. Only when she saw that I was about to run a red light did she mutter under her breath like Clint Eastwood in those old western movies: “Red!” I slammed on the brakes so hard that I woke up the dog. Then I got serious, put my foot down, and said, “Let’s go home.” The girls acted like they were listening to me, Baloo licked my ear, and we headed to Dana Point on Route 1, the famous US-1, also known as the Pacific Coast Highway, hopping from town to town, beach to beach, and resort to resort.

About those plums, we went to the market and Irina drove around the absolutely full parking lot while Alma and I were on our plum-hunting mission. We didn’t find any, so we left.

Otherwise, Newport Beach is very nice, much cleaner and neater than Venice Beach. I was told that next year we are coming here. I still can’t decide if I’m happy about this or not: I guess it depends on whether I can find a place to park.

On our way out of town, we stumbled upon this awesome joint called the Rusty Pelican. It was pet-friendly, so Baloo could chill with us while we grabbed a bite. I won’t bore you with the details of our meal, but Baloo got a refreshing bowl of water with ice. Then something amazing happened – our server brought over two kickass Bloody Marys and suggested that I tell Irina to drive us back home, to which I happily obliged.

On my way to Dana Point, being a passenger, I took lots of pictures, and I spotted loads of BMWs, Audis, a few Mercedes, a super fancy Bentley, and five Alfa Romeo Giulias, one after another (what’s up with that?). Oh, and there was a red BMW 200 series convertible with a young girl driving NASCAR-style. She was pretty cool, handling the traffic mayhem like a pro.

San Clemente Beach

It was early afternoon, we were like Buzzie, Flaps, Ziggy, and Dizzy, the four vultures from Jungle Book, who were bored and trying to think of something to do (Buzzie kept asking Flaps “so what are we gonna do?”, only to get “I don’t know” in response).

The girls were chilling at the beach, checking out the surfers. Baloo and I crashed out in the front yard, recovering from The Newport Adventure. I say “crashed out,” but I was barely dozing while Baloo made it clear to every passerby that they were not welcome. Positioned strategically in the shade under the palm trees, that furry guard was on high alert. People strolled by, completely unaware of him, recognizing only the little old dog of the host. Then, out of nowhere, “woof, Woof, WOOF” – hearts racing and fancy coffee containers nearly hitting the ground.

Alma, like Buzzie, “So what are we gonna do?” and Irina, playing Flaps, said, “Let’s go to San Clemente.” They summoned me to pick them up, and off we went.

Last year, we were in San Clemente, we didn’t have Baloo yet. This year I wanted to take Baloo on the pier, but it turns out he wasn’t allowed. I didn’t even know. And then I found out, he wasn’t allowed on the beach either (thank goodness I did my research before leaving Phoenix, duh… like I never thought I’d end up in San Clemente again, and I didn’t care about dogs on the beach), but I kinda snuck him in and begged him to stay quiet for a bit.

The whole dog-on-the-beach situation is a bit of a mess. Californians adore their furry friends, but taking them to the beach is a whole science. There are only certain spots and times when it’s allowed. Some pup owners also seem to have no shame, and there’s nothing quite like accidentally squishing a sand-covered puppy “treat”.

He kept quiet until his mom and his aunt Alma went into the water and disappeared from his sight. Then he went all bark mode, that frantic high-pitched bark of his, like “Mommy, Mommy, where are you? Dad, Dad, go find her.” When Mommy and Auntie came back, Baloo started digging holes in the sand because he was bored; he was super quick and so into it that people gathered around to watch. He was really bummed when the tide came in and washed away his handiwork. He dug another one, but another wave encroached and washed that away too. With that, he got frustrated and threw in the towel.

When I was in the middle of my pics taking stage, these paragliders showed up and totally blew my mind with their smooth moves. As they got closer, I noticed they had propellers on their backs, and I didn’t think they were as cool. But hey, I kinda wanted to join them up there, you know?

And there I was, just chilling by the ocean, watching those awesome folks having a blast with their boards. I couldn’t help but snap a few more pics to make sure I remembered the moment.

I nicknamed this guy the ‘Muscle Map’. You know, the one that’s all about studying muscles.

I’m like, totally seeing a human head in this pic. Even if it’s not supposed to be a head, it’s still a rad picture (just my humble opinion). But seriously, it looks like a head, right? Spent all afternoon trying to snap a photo of a surfer riding the waves with the sun in the background.

I totally failed. All I could spot was this surfer at the beach, all set to hit the waves.

I still went ahead and snapped some pictures of the sunset, just in case I didn’t have enough.

San Clemente is one of the coastal towns that got railroad tracks right next to the beach. If you wanna’ hit the sand, you gotta’ go through specific spots with a barrier and a signal. Dana Point is just the same. Here’s the deal: don’t even think about crossing the tracks on your own. You’ll either get slapped with a hefty fine or get flattened by a train. If it’s the train that gets you, you’re toast.

La Jolla

We were in La Jolla last year too. We made a pit stop on the way back home because the location of the city was just perfect for a quick break before tackling the long, boring drive. It’s close to San Diego, but not so close that you get stuck in that awful California traffic, and it’s at the intersection of several major highways that lead you right onto the (in)famous I-8. But honestly, we stopped because it’s such a stunning resort. I’d totally go back again next year, unless Irina drags me off to Newport Beach instead.

I think I’ll post more pictures, if possible, because a picture is worth a thousand words. But first, a short video, for relaxation:

Sea lions and their cubs, humans and their cubs…

Check out this amazing snapshot! It's from the gazebo, with a lifeguard point in the distance and a small breakwater shielding a little bay where kids splash around during the day. At night, it's the sea lions' turn to take over the shore.

Actually, I wanted to photograph the pelicans, but the girl with the hat got in the frame

Instead of The End

To wrap it up, I was gonna’ go all deep and philosophical, but then I saw some cool pics I hadn’t posted before, and now I’m starving. Random, right? Well, not exactly. 

Our pad (okay, Betty’s place) was just a 10-minute ride from Ralphs (you know, the Kroger out in California – or Fry’s in our neck of the woods). Only Ralphs stocks this amazing brown bread. It’s sooo good! Other than that, there aren’t many local goodies, but thankfully they’ve got California beer. I’ve tried a bunch of different ones, so that’s been cool.

There was also a Sprouts, a Trader Joe’s, two gas stations (perfectly placed), a Homegoods and a TJMaxx that the girls are still sad they didn’t go in.

At Ralphs, I had a blast with the deli girl. Back in Scottsdale, there was this guy at the deli counter we used to call ‘Speedy’. He was unbelievably slow — like, the gold standard of slowness for us. Well, this young girl was even slower. I asked for two kinds of ham, and she actually wrote them on her hand so she wouldn’t forget. When I realized how slow she was, I asked if she minded me finishing the rest of my shopping while she sliced the ham because my baby was crying at home, and I was in a rush. She was so stunned that she dropped her pen on the floor, and I had to slowly repeat my order. But let me tell you, she was absolutely gorgeous!

The road to Ralphs

What I thought was cool: in front of the stores, they had these big bowls of water for the doggies. And some peeps even left out little bags in front of their houses for you to scoop after your pet, with signs saying “be respectful” so the pup doesn’t crush the flowers. So basically, I deducted that, in California, dogs can read.

Guess what: I found some more pictures of Pines Park.

And you know what? Every time Baloo sees Ovidiu, he’s so darn happy that, even though he’s a good boy, he can’t help but leave a little puddle of joy. So, here’s why it happens:

I remember when Ovidiu saw Baloo for the first time, he just looked at him and was like, “Wow, look at you, little buddy! You’re a real dog, aren’t you?” And from that day on, they’ve been the best of friends!

Before leaving I took our customary selfie, and I got a snap of the exhausted photographer (aka, me). Or maybe the other way around, depending on which side you’re viewing from, left or right.

Well, that’s about it…

We had a 6-hour drive home, going from 82 degrees Fahrenheit on the coast to 115 degrees Fahrenheit in Phoenix. The road was so boring that I asked Irina to take over after only two hours of driving. In just five minutes, Irina was yawning so much that it looked like her jaws were about to break. She managed for another ten minutes before giving up, so we switched back. This has never happened in all our driving history! Anyway, the 15-minute break did me good, and I was able to continue without any problems.

At the gas station, it was so funny – the unwritten rule is you gotta let the doggo out for a bathroom break. The ground was scorching, and Baloo gave us this look like, “Why should I even bother, hoomans?!?!” before darting back into the car. Good thing he can hold it because only when we made a pit stop at Tiberiu’s place (dropping off Aunt Alma), he was able to do his business, just before having a wild play time with Brodie, the nephew’s dog.

And on the way home, in the last five minutes, it was just like one of those end-of-the-world movies.

To think that just an hour earlier we were there, and now there’s a dust storm, then a full-blown storm! In our neighborhood, it was just the regular storm, but in California, there was this crazy heat and fire going on.

Looks like the next exit is up in the mountains!

Mesa, Arizona, August, 2020
During Covid-19

Translated into English by Yours Truly, February, 2024