A walk through City Heights

Today began as a typical Thursday. I woke up before the crack of dawn to jog with Kristen. By 9:00, I needed to bring my car to my mechanic (yes, I'm claiming ownership) in North Park. My front brake pads were at 15% in August; I thought it would be a quick fix. He anticipated 2 hours. What do I do when I have time to kill? I walk. Last time I had a long wait with my mechanic, I walked to Hillcrest and back. This time, I was on a mission. A group of friends meets once a month for a supper club. The theme this month is "first kiss" and related dishes. My first kiss was A. not very memorable and B. not associated with food. So I decided to choose my first serious relationship kiss. I dated a Filipino and I have fond food memories: homemade egg rolls and various other dishes that I cannot name but loved. My favorite dessert was bilo bilo. I've looked for it at places that serve Filipino cuisine with no luck. As a self-sufficient person, I decided to make it myself. I googled "bilo bilo" and hoped for the best. I found plenty of recipes and the ingredient list appeared manageable. Going to an Asian grocery store was on my to-do list and it became my mission. First, I needed to go to the bank to make a deposit. I knew I could walk to the Bank of America on El Cajon and Marlborough. Then I realized that I was likely to find an Asian market around City Heights. After BOA, I headed east and became doubtful after I passed Hoover High School (where my church meets). It was odd to see teenagers milling about instead of the usual church crowd, but I enjoyed seeing a glimpse of normalcy at Hoover. Finally, I saw a sign that said Food Center.* Somehow, I decided it was an Asian market and knew I needed to check it out. Maybe I had seen it before while driving to Hoover for church.

I approached the Food Center and once again had my doubts. The sign above the door said "wholesale;" I do not need the ingredients on my list in bulk; however, once I have it in my head that I'm doing something, it's like I'm running on autopilot. Walking up the ramp, I hear people speaking Spanish. People are pushing large shopping carts filled with plastic bags. I'm slightly confused as it is an Asian market. The employees (or maybe they were delivering food) were a mixture of Asian and Latino individuals. I shopped among Asian people listening to employees speak in Spanish. I finally heard an Asian langauge while I waited to check out.

Me, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed female, with a lost look on my face entering what seemed like a new world. I felt out of place, but it didn't bother me.

I needed rice flour, coconut milk, coconut cream, and large tapioca balls (insert gratitutious giggle). I began searching and found rice noodles. Then, I saw a large spikey ball in the fish area. It looked like what I imagine a puffer fish to look like, but it was called horse-something. I cannot remember. I wandered to the shelves and found coconut milk and coconut cream. I glanced down and found rice flour. I was on a roll. I did not see the tapioca balls, so I combed the rest of the store. I found so many new things. Shrimp chips, mangostein, and practically an entire aisle of soy sauce and various other sauces. I found packets of Thai iced tea that Connery brought me from Thai Town in L.A. (Now I don't need to go to L.A.) I found Pho seasoning packets with instructions to make it. You add rice noodles, which I had already seen. I was tempted to buy both items and add my own desires for my own Pho, but I was already carrying too much. Next time.

With no tapioca in sight, I circled back to the beginning and found small tapioca balls in the same section with the coconut milk/cream and rice flour. For those of you who are unaware, I'm too stubborn to ask for help immediately. I like to struggle a bit before I concede. Also, I was afraid to ask in English and I didn't have the vocabulary to ask in Spanish. Seriously, tapioca in Spanish? It better not be tapioca.

I did not interact much with the people in the store, but I was in awe of the diversity. In church, we're always talking about bridging cultures in City Heights, and I witnessed it outside the confines of our church/high school. The numerous and mish-mashing of cultures is one of the many reasons why I love San Diego. Where I grew up, diversity is scarce; perhaps that's why I crave it. Either way, I was blown away at how God can bridge cultures.

*I googled "City Heights" and found a picture of the sign of the store that I saw while walking. This is all part of God's plan; it's coming together all too easily!