As soon as I was done with San Jose Avenue, Ancient Persia materialized. I reached the promised land.
One of San Jose’s most celebrated stretches of janky industrial backwater, rightfully named after the town itself, San Jose Avenue took me from Monterey Road all the way to Old Almaden Road, providing a half-mile cross-section of humanity. This was not a leisurely stroll for Willow Glen folks in Hugo Boss shirts. This was the real underbelly.
Beginning at Monterey and venturing westward on the only part of San Jose Avenue with a sidewalk, I shuffled right past corrugated metal shacks, abandoned cars and weeds busting through the concrete. Left and right, I saw parcels with bent chain link fencing and rusty barbed wire. In one place, there were multiple stacks of tires taller than me. A block later, just past a payphone vandalized beyond repair, I watched a “parking compliance” officer ticketing vehicles on the sidewalk. Man, what an embarrassing job.
As I continued past racks of used car bumpers sitting in storage, a bit of local history materialized. Eighty years ago, in 1945, just about all of San Jose Avenue was residential. An old city directory showed no less than 60 addresses from one end of the street to the other, nearly all private citizens in their homes.
Nowadays, what I found interesting about San Jose Avenue, in the curious exploratory way that will only occur while journeying on foot, was the gorgeous incongruity of it all. The evolution of the neighborhood over the decades became much more apparent. Several old houses remained in various conditions, jammed between parcels of industry, whether it was transmission repair, auto upholsterers, or simply a parked flatbed trailer piled up with fence posts. Here and there, houses appeared right next to a defunct tractor, several oil drums or pallets of drywall materials stored on the shoulder. There was often nowhere to park, even if I did have a car.
Some of these houses were fixed up and maintained, indicating that people still lived there, while others were converted into construction offices or something similar. Walking around on foot and barely avoiding speedy traffic, it became clear that for some of these houses, recently constructed wrought iron fencing was probably only present to stop street people from wandering into the yards, or even the houses. This was common in other neighborhoods too, but it seemed apparent here on San Jose Avenue, an oft-ignored part of town, where all sorts of humanity drifted to and from the freeway overpass or the creek.
Maybe this was also the reason why, during my shuffle, I encountered a few humongous German shepherds relaxing on the pavement, near the entrance of a few different industrial yards. They were passive, but clearly ready to pounce if I ventured onto the property. Yikes.
San Jose Avenue was a relatively straight shot, as usual. I kept going, dodging reckless drivers, as I ambled past the battered side streets of Pomona and Little Orchard, where the expected convoys of dilapidated RVs dominated the scene. Up ahead, the setting sun descended right over Highway 87, throwing streaks of yellow and orange across the sky.
It was then, right there, that I saw the Promised Land. After half a mile, San Jose Avenue concluded at Reyhan, a humble upmarket Persian restaurant. Even halfway down the street, I could see it off in the distance, knowing it was my final resting place.
Right before Reyhan, I arrived at the convergence of Old Almaden Road and the newer, less-wrecked expressway of the same name, where aromas of truck exhaust and garbage filled the air. This was the real “confluence point,” not the one in Arena Green. Yet there were just a few more steps to go.
After dangerously jaywalking across Almaden Expressway, I stormed past even more crumbling RVs and right into Reyhan, where Persian music videos blasted from a flat screen. The place was clean. Spic and span.
With Bourdain in mind, I then devoured some sort of beef and eggplant stew with tomato sauce and chunks of dry lemon. The owner had been there 20 years. It was fantastic.
Reyhan was indeed the Promised Land. Soon as I was off San Jose Avenue, I found paradise.
Great article! Let us see more like this.