Wine Class

Spent today doing my usual job search, then assembling furniture. Fortunately the latter task was surprisingly easy. Good thing since it is something that I really can't stand. But now things in the apartment are a bit more comfortable.

Didn't venture out until the evening when I attended a wine class focusing on the regions of northwest Spain. The class was held in a Spanish style mansion in Balboa Park, a cultural center of San Diego. The park is home to many museums as well as the San Diego Zoo. The building I was in is known as The Prado and houses a beautiful restaurant. We were tucked away in a small room upstairs with a large oak-wood table and chairs. It felt like we could be discussing an upcoming battle or proposed conquest, very old-world. Instead, we were learning about the wines of Northern Spain.

Our instructor, John Alonge, was terrific. A Frenchman transplanted to San Diego because, as he put it, nowhere else can compete the weather here. John had a tremendous breadth of knowledge and relaxed attitude, he was as much a student as he was an instructor. There was no debate between the group about what we were tasting, simply an outlay of facts regarding each wine's production and history. This is exactly how wine learning should take place. It is about personal experience, shared experience, it is never a lecture and there is no such thing as right or wrong.

There were 9 of us in the class. Other than the heavily tattooed gay man next to me who reeked of marijuana, I was the only one not wearing a wedding ring. We interacted as a class, but there was not much interaction between us. Still, it was a very relaxing and informative evening.

On the way out, I stopped at The Lamplighter to watch some of playoff game. As it is been hailed as "Best Karaoke Bar in San Diego," I was hoping The Lamplighter had a rollicking scene going and could become my new karaoke home. I walked into a place populated with about 7 heavy set, middle-aged, marginally employed guys and two middle aged women with heavy ink and smokers coughs. No karaoke. Quick soda water, one inning of the game, then out the door.

A kid who plays guitar at the Tiki Bar sent a mass-text to let everyone know he was playing at The Australian Pub. I stopped in on my way back and found a dingy bar and slacker crowd being regaled by an AC/DC cover band. All the members were dressed exactly like their famous role models. Have to admit, they were pretty good, and how fitting that they were playing at The Australian Pub. They must be a hit there. The kid who invited me was pretty happy to see me and said I was the only one from the text who had shown up. That's because I haven't been here long enough to be a total flake. I stuck around for a bit and watched him jam out with one of the other acts, then it was off to bed. My last night on the aero-mattress. The queen size bed I'd purchased the day before in Ocean Beach would be arriving in the morning. Please, powers that be, let that new job and promising career begin very soon....