Being a Tourist in My Own Backyard

I have a confession to make. I have lived in San Diego for eight years and this past weekend was my first visit to one of the city’s fine museums. To make matters worse, I live two blocks from the heart of Balboa Park, which houses 15 museums alone, and I walk past each one of them several times a week when I am out on a ramble. Disgraceful.

I love museums and will often visit cities near and far just for the chance to explore various collections. When I first moved to San Diego, I enthusiastically toured the delights of the city. But the emphasis was largely on the natural beauty of the beaches, coastal life, and enjoying the glorious year-round weather. For some reason, the museums went untouched and unnoticed. As the years went by and I settled into a routine, exploring new places in my adopted hometown became less of a priority. I took the city’s culture offerings for granted knowing I could visit at a moment’s notice. Yet, I never did.

The Toulouse-Lautrec's Paris: Selections from the Baldwin M. Baldwin Collection at the San Diego Museum of Art is what finally got me out of the house and pushed me to do something cultural in my own backyard.

The collection showcased over a 100 works of art that haven’t been shown together in more than 20 years. Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1864–1901) is a French Post-Impressionist artist who is probably best known for his lithography posters; in particular posters depicting the late-19th-century bohemian lifestyle in Paris. He was a fixture in the bars and cabarets in Montmarte and his sketches of the patrons often became focal points in his artwork.

My First Love

Being that thoughts of travel are never far from my focus, it is hard for me to recall a time when I wasn’t passionate about travel and history. Yet, when looking back, the first seeds of my passion were only ignited my sophomore year of college when I took my first art history class. I was in no way prepared for the impact that this class would have on me and the strong foundation it gave me when I started my first travel adventures a year and half later.

From day one, the professor’s zest for art history transported me to a world I had never been exposed to and that I hungered to be a part of. Art and the history of ancient cultures came to life under his touch. He was a magical storyteller and would regale the class with tales of political intrigue, deceit, love and all sorts of juicy historical tidbits expertly woven alongside his own travel tales. I can still vividly recall his stories about zooming down the narrow cobbled streets of Venice on a motorcycle, or seeing Michelangelo’s Moses housed in San Pietro in Vincoli in Rome for the first time, or what he felt when roaming the marble corridors of the Louvre surrounded by unimaginable treasures. Fifteen years later, I still think of him when I encounter a painting or sculpture that I studied during that semester with him.

Cities of the Dead

Who finds the idea of visiting a cemetery an odd activity when exploring a new city?

Not me.

But based on reactions I received recently when I did just that, I get the impression that it isn’t for everyone.

“You went to a cemetery when you were in New Orleans? Why?” friend after friend inquired perplexed by this event.

Why indeed. Truth be told, I have a fascination with 18th and 19th century cemeteries. In particular, ones that have grand ornate above ground tombs, the more elaborate the better. I love strolling along the paths admiring the architecture and the stillness of these miniature cities. The unexpected beauty and serenity of these ancient burial grounds create an ideal atmosphere to reflect on life and clear my head. Cemeteries from this time also provide intriguing insight into the history of the city.

Here are three cemeteries that I recommend exploring.