Hankering for a studio yoga class, Left Coast Power Yoga’s timely invitation to fill out an Environmental Impact Survey led to a free yoga class. I choose the Laurel district yoga studio since I hadn’t taken a class there before. Merci Beaucoup, Left Coast!

From the West Oakland Bart station, this Saturday morning was quiet as I ride along 3rd Street to Jack London Square to the Embarcadero route along the seashore. A few dogs and their owners dot the sinewy trail leading to a congregation of rowers ready to launch into the bay.

I meander through the Fruitvale district and turn left on 38th Avenue heading east. 38th Avenue undulates upward then levels off as I enter the Allendale neighborhood. A red awning and lime green building turns my head right as I ride past the Vientian Cafe. Thai food!?! One of my foods prefere. I make a mental note to visit this eatery as a slight bend in the street angled right then left.

As I approach Penniman Avenue, I notice a queue of people at this corner shop. donut savant the billboard read. I vaguely remember reading an article about them. Curiosity, another cup of joe, and a small queue, I lock my bike to a nearby street pole. A hooded man stands ahead of me. “Do you come here a lot?” “Yeah, I try to come here every weekend. Killer donuts and flavors.” One question leads to another. Me, San Diego State, he, UCSD, me, Santa Cruz county, he the south bay. “Come in with me, man. I’m buyin!” as Devin gently accosts me, wrapping his right arm around my shoulder. “Which are your favorites.” “The chocolate frosted and the maple are really good!” Devin takes off his sunglasses, grins widely as we embrace the moment. “Thanks, Devin!” as I gently shake his left shoulder. “My pleasure, Henry.” Devin walks west on 38th Avenue as I exit right. Now the queue has grown to double past my parked bike.

The yoga class was grounding, relaxing, and loosened my limbs and body a bit. For me, one reason to do something I like leads to days like these: a planned cycling route with stops at east bay tamale eateries culled from the San Francisco Chronicle’s food writers reviews mixed in with spontaneous exploration as I ride from stop to stop. I really like exploring especially when I can ride whether in New Orleans during Jazz Fest, or visits to Seattle, Los Angeles, and San Diego.

Bombera was my next stop about 10 minutes northwest in the Dimond district located on Champion street adjacent to MacArthur Blvd. I suspected Bombera wouldn’t be open because it was only 11:30. Maybe next time. I ride along MacArthur Blvd crossing onto Trestle Glen road and turn left onto Lakeshore Avenue. A Busker captivates my attention which reflects this thriving neighborhood. Every time I visit the Lake Merritt Farmer’s market teems with good energy. Whether I buy something or not, I like just walking through the aisles, talking to vendors, and absorbing the vibe.

I headed to the Santa Fe neighborhood of Oakland to Tamaleria Azteca, a small eatery located in a residential neighborhood. The petite Guatemalan woman gave me six tamales for a Jackson. The corn tamale was a bit savory and sweet. I wished I ordered another, but cold beires awaited me somewhere in Berkeley after my stop at Morell’s Bread for two sweeter concoctions created by Saba Jam that I ordered online a couple weeks before, again based on a SF Chronicle review.

While riding in the Berkeley hills during a summer day months’ before, I selected a Google Maps route that revealed a Cafe within the confines of Strawberry Creek Park, a meandering creek nestled between greenery, thick Oak trees, a volleyball court with Bancroft community garden across the street on Bancroft Way. I remembered the bucolic vibe, kids playing, others reading, hanging out while sitting outside as I the bike path undulated like a roller coaster. From Tamaleria Azteca, I rode through south Berkeley into West Berkeley, a cruise into Strawberry Creek Park then further west to Samba Jam.

Another teeming corner of west Berkeley where several bakeries and eateries reside that captured my curiosity especially Third Culture Bakery Berkeley where another review popped in my head. Its interior resembled a disco, pink and purple hues swirled with 80’s pop music. A block down a long queue snaked from one corner to another, people waiting patiently. I stopped across the street where I noticed a guy smoking a cigarette. “What’s going on?” “An artist show that happens a couple times a year. My girlfriend is waiting in line while I have a smoke.” “Cool, man.”

The space looked the same when it was the Rare Barrel now Cellar Maker on Parker street a minute around the corner. It felt satisfying to rest, drink a couple libations and eat my savory tamales. Not yet ready to saunter back to Bart, I found a nearby brewery in Emeryville, Wondrous Brewing Company, a recent addition to the local biere scene.

I’ve always liked riding through new or semi-familiar areas. It slowly etches memories of ephemeral time spent. Writing this further buries it a little deeper. Getting beyond my neighborhood opens my eyes, mind, and body.