First of all, some may be wondering, "San Diego...coffee?"

It happened.

But, I did not have a ton of coffee in my time there. I got to SD, checked into my hostel. The one I stayed at is called Lucky D's. It was a pretty sweet little hang, although it was no where near the beach. I'm a city boy, I can deal with it. Except San Diego's inner city is a little weird and well...not an awesome downtown. It's kind of barren, but it's not. There's stuff to do, but for who(m), i don't know. YOU DECIDE!

Anyway, my hostel had some bad internet service, so I ventured into the vast nothingness/everythingness of S D hunting for wild WiFi. I found some at a happy place called Java Jones. Java Jones seemed like a safe enough spot. It seemed to have an abundant supply of coffee, tea, sandwiches, and desserts. It even had a Marzocco.

Alright Java Jones, you've upped me and La Calombe with your gear. But the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong...i don't even know what this means, but it sounds AwEsOmE! I asked for a wet capp (a code I have learned from the skull and bones of the Coffee elite). I got a pretty convincing smile and okay from the nice cashista*. Things seemed in order. All the pieces in place. My shield reinforced, my axe sharpened. Thine enemy made his move. A drink was handed to me. I could not see what it was with all the frothy bubbles shooting out at me! Victory was mine. I tightened the grip around my weapon, readied myself, assumed the position for maximum assault and ... kindly thanked the barista.

Dude, whatever, I needed a pick-me-up and WiFi. Java Jones makes a crappy cappuccino. So do many places. Oh well. Most of us should be so lucky to be able to drink a crap-ahccino in a shyt world like this.

Later that night, I ended up checking out Cherry Bombs, the SD version of Bob and Barbaras. Sweet juke. Plenty of Mudhoney. It was cool enough minus the fact that they only served Bud. GoD! If I'm going to drink a shyt beer, give me a PBR. At least I can get some cred! Crap-ahccino, whatever, it happens. Bud? I'd rather die. But I didn't. and I'm a hypocrite.

AIGHT! enough of the everything.

The next day, I hung out with Heather of Caffe Calabria. She took me to Calabria and made me a pretty nice capp. Calabria seems to have its hands in many projects all at once when I got there (pizza oven?). Out of the few places I checked out in SD, it really had the most happening. Besides the normal stuff, Calabria's roasting single origins. I had a chance to check out their beans from Guatemala. They were decent. They were roasted pretty dark and while pleasant enough, the roast did not showcase the wild crazy flavors as clearly as the beans probably had to offer. It's a process and Heather's pretty adamant about getting some change happening in the roast. So good things to come, I'm sure. She's already figured out some cool and different ways of getting great tastes out of the espresso. Kudos. Heather also showed me 'round town, waves, introduced me to some awesome people, and allowed me to crash at her place. Kudos times 9, at least. Yo, not only is Heather an awesome and inventive barista, she can surf like a real mofo. They need to have surfing rounds in the next barista championship.

okay, okay...you're in SD...don't drink coffee and don't go to the city! This is madness. Eat great, fresh mexican food, drink some great tequila and/or Stone Brewery beer (i <3 Arrogant Bastard), and go to the beach. Why get McDonalds in Italy? It just doesn't make sense. Just relax. Give up your modern sensibilities. Stop thinking. Just enjoy those great, wonderful, natural things.
-charlie
STAY TUNED FOR PART THREE: The Stumptown Supremacy!
*intellectual property of Heather (aitch$) of Calabria (ex. member of the Albina Press).