Ligaya "rhymes with papaya" T.'s Profile

Escaping the neon clusterfuck of Santa Monica Pier, I darted into the stark white blessing of MK Gallery privy to a different LA perspective: that of David Lynch and Danger Mouse entitled Dark Night of the Soul.

Did you hear about their latest snafu? The anticipated musical/visual collaboration betwixt these two odd geniuses was to be released last month, but after a spat with the record company the CD came out decked in Lynch photography with no sound to be heard at all. Blank disc and uber popular gallery showing, who's got the last laugh now?

Back on track... if you're familiar with Lynch's other works, it's of no surprise that his photography is a wild ride illuminating the strange, twisted world of the mundane. In my humble opinion had anyone else been behind the lens, all the photos but one would be growing dust on an abandoned shelf. The gallery does little to showcase it aside from the unmissable poster out front, but if asked, I'm sure they'd chalk it up to artists preference.

I much appreciated that the exhibit was free, because it's likely I would have felt gypped paying for it since half the gallery was cordoned off. I'd suggest that the MK folks put a little more time into their pickings and provide thoughtful, provocative work in the future.

Secretly, I want to be a hipster girl with a rad haircut and funky clothes. The kind that carries a moleskin and writes poetry, and strums a guitar, and runs with a pack of long legged, skinny floppy haired boys and gals like gazelle down the streets of Berkeley.

My transformation would start in Mars' racks where the jackets hold the faint smell of mothballs and someone else and the denim has earned a sheen that never washes off. It's easy to get lost in there: sections by era and type, it's a game of luck as the only tip-offs are the corners of fabric that stick our of line.

If you need a little guidance, peep the glass case by the register for sharp accessories. 80s heels pick up an outfit faster than BMW scouting for a hooker. They also have a great selection of retro boots and purses, so you don't have to feel badly about buying leather.

I've always found the staff to be on point. They offer up informed advice, and if I'm feeling indecisive, sweeten the deal when necessary keeping me on the glorious road to hipsterdom!

In the quaint, historical town of Point Richmond Sunday nights have the eerie ghost town stillness of a setting from a David Lynch movie. With its multi-colored pastel walls and Chinese furnishings from the previous incarnation, the fact that you can delight in an entire meal at Symphonie with no thought to the absence of dairy or meat only adds to the oddity and intrigue factor.

The menu spans pan Asian with a smattering of European goodies: Singaporean noodles, Milanese steak, and coconut seafood -- if vegan was always so scrumptious I could forgo animal proteins forevermore. What amazing things technology can do with gluten and soy! I'm tempted to lure my friends here unknowingly and lead them down the righteous path.

Who knew Richmond had such a darling waterfront?

Biking along the Bay Trail that connects over 200 miles of shoreline parks, we happened upon this completely safe, immaculately clean marina. It resembles more a cookie cutter suburban harbor than the coast of a no safe zone, and pays homage to its history as a WWII shipyard with historical markers and sculptures. See Rosie the Riveter for an amazing contemporary piece.

Despite everyone's warnings we came out of Richmond totally un-shot. Down with the stereotypes!

An odyssey through oddities. Think junkyard acid trip.

This former landfill has been transformed by a welders torch and cans of spray paint into an artist's jungle of warped rebar, miscellaneous detritus and scattered concrete blocks adorned with stencils and random graffiti. Pieces are hidden under bushes, atop crags and under the canopy of treeclumps; there's always something to be discovered.

The trails are haphazard and ill-maintained, so take the coastal route if you're on bike. With dogs and vagrants running about, the overall effect is more post-apocalyptic than beautiful, but towards the west/north end of the peninsula there are some incredible sculptures: seek out the samurai, contemplative bench sitter, shoveler and dragon. Just around the bend, there's also a vast field of blackberry bushes if ya feel like snacking. I'm sure they absorbed some good nutrients from the soil, eh?

Wear some quality kicks, or get a tetanus shot, and you'll be all set to trek!

Plopped onto a random patch of the auto dealer strip, Drunken Fish laughs in the face of the ordinary and traditional.

Armed with fresh cuts and funky rolls, this is not your regular by-the-book sushi joint. The kitsch interior lends a playful air but the real winner is the broad heatlamped and bambooed oasis of a patio.

Diving into these wrapped cylinders of seaweed goodness, I discovered that mayonaise and sri racha really are tasty all mixed up. Here, the purists at the table will vow to never come again, at which point you have full license to poach off their sushi board. At these prices, they won't be complaining.

The cute but clueless staff took this joint down a notch, though if you're in lively, captivating company it's likely to be pardoned. Casual dates and boisterous parties, do apply!

On days when I'm feeling like sprouted sunflower seeds and quinoa but am too lazy to plod over to Power Source, Mixt Greens comes to the rescue! With a nod to the organic and sustainable, these folks offer an efficient, cafeteria-style alternative to the FiDi lunch scene.

The name of the game is salads, and you're a player with a handful of face cards: colorful toppings from fibrous to nutritious await to be integrated into your creation, served up in planet-eat-me-good containers.

And oh my do they toss a salad with aplomb and speed! Don't be deterred by the lines. Add some corn and radishes to the mix, and my face will be behind the counter on the reg.

Down International Blvd on the pilgrimage to Mariscos we went, tongues lolling, bellies grumbling. The strip looked like the outer Mission, palms, bodegas and mom n' pop places line a sunny stretch as people bustle about.

Now I don't know how the taco truck image was conjured up in my head, but I expected a big honking aluminum beast parked all askew with people swarming around it like a fruit fly to a rotten plum on a baking lot in the beating sun. Not so! We were greeted with a pleasant old school tiled patio and sliding order windows, and a host of local guys chatting away and stuffing their faces happily.

My friend attempted to order in broken Español and the counter fella in one of those fast food paper hats answered in English with the patience of once who talks to the unknowing often. So we order, his eyes widening with every item after taco number six.

Rubbing our hands together, we devoured the camarones cocktail, a sort of watery salsa, avocadoed cooked shrimp cup that was a-ok. The pescado ceviche tostadas were bomb in flavor and came on a fresh shell, though it was in smaller shreds not chunky bits. Nevertheless, I'd glady order em again.

The tacos... oh ho, the tacos! Yelpers, you have not led me astray. Piled high with chopped meats and scattered with diced onions and cilantro atop double corn tortillas, these are a one dollar wonder! Carne asada, excellent spices but a little grisly. Pollo, a wee bit dry, but yummy, balanced seasoning. Pastor, passed myself though my dining partner deemed it best on the red cafeteria tray!

I'd love to see the radish accompanying the tacos shredded and pickled instead of a whole chunk, and fresh jamaica agua fresca instead of the yucky syrupy kind. But let's be honest, when you're living on a dime, there's no better place to fill up for under a five spot!

Azerbaijan, now there's a new dot on my culinary map!

We soon discovered the dishes tasted distinctly Persian: grilled meats, peppers and tomatoes, squash and eggplant, fragrant and fluffy rice, saffron and cinnamon punctuating the dishes. In addition to the traditional stews and skewers, the menu had a fair share of interesting pizza combinations for the culinary conservative.

Like any good yelper, we had to do it up proper! Our foray included all the essentials: grilled ground chicken, eggplant with garlic, whey and caramelized onions (yum) and the pomegranate and ground walnut fesenjan. Smooth and sweet with a pleasant tang, the marriage of flavors in this dish is really unique. For those who dig the union of fruit and meat, this one's a winner!

If you can pick your head up from the plate, you'll find that the atmosphere is comfortable, dotted with hookahs and "traditional" articles, though the decor appears to taken stitch to stitch from the "Laila" theme out of an interior design catalog. Some personal touches would go a long way.

The place would also do well to hire some uni students familiar with the cuisine to replace the lackluster service, and think about trimming the prices a buck or two to attract more of the college crowd, but hey, it probably keeps out the riff raff.

So from the power vested in me by the state of Hunger, I officially declare this place in the top tier of my downtown Berzerkley take-out list.

Let's keep it real here; we live here because the Bay Area is one of the most beautiful places on earth. And one of the things I'm most thankful for living in this neo-hippie mecca of Berkeley is the easy access to the Bay Trail. The concept is mind-boggling: a well-maintained, paved trail that jogs over 200 miles of shoreline. Oh yes, the ocean, ever the main attraction!  

As you can imagine, it draws all ages of sports enthusiasts on all sorts of wheels and apparatuses. I'll be the first to admit, there's a certain satisfaction taking in the incredible views while whizzing by the I-80 traffic.

For a quick afternoon excursion, zip down University Ave and onto the dedicated bike/ped bridge. You'll get a good view of all the wind and kite surfers in the marina. To the left, Emeryville and to the right Albany and Richmond. Head north for a quick seafoody bite at Seabreeze, then off to continue your adventure!

I never tire of the feeling of the rays warming my skin, hair whipping around in the wind. I have at least one moment every ride when laughter just wells up in my throat. And the sunsets with a silhouette of the city skyline? Just devastating.