The mammoth intersection of Aborn and San Felipe in San Jose is a rocking bazaar that should be explored on foot.
Multiple Indian grocers and a Japanese fish pond retailer were among numerous components of the landscape on a recent Friday evening.
In this part of town, the hills are practically in your face. When the sun sets on the opposite side of the valley, throwing streaks of yellow and orange across the sky, the hills start to glow. It’s fabulous to see.
It’s also fabulous to show up and inspect the evolution of these strip malls over the decades. A variety of leftover places from ages ago combine with newer ethnic restaurants. An old-school rock-facade structure is perfect for dive bars and makeshift Indian markets. Hawk-sized birds flew overhead as I wandered from one Indian restaurant to the next. I saw remnants of the old ranch land, before the sprawl cannibalized the hills.
The takeout at Rajjot was amazing. I ordered from the counter and slid into one of three tables to wolf down aloo gobi and chicken curry with a plastic spoon. Piles of sweets were everywhere and a steady stream of Doordash drivers came and went. Everyone was fluently bilingual.
Maps assisted in these adventures too. Not Google Maps, but physical maps from 70 years ago, back when Eastridge was a golf course and Capitol Expressway didn’t exist yet. In those days, there was nothing out here, just blank space on a map.
Nowadays, Sikhs drive buses and the soccer fields are filled with kids that just might play for San Jose State or the Earthquakes someday. Lightrail construction barrels toward Eastridge—exactly what they should have done in the ’80s.
Aside from all that, this area can be understood as a nexus from which all sorts of beautifully absurd drives can happen, drives that provide totally unique-to-San Jose cross-sections of historical discontinuity. Again, it helps if you grew up looking at physical maps, of course, but it’s not required.
If one continues on San Felipe, for example, it becomes a pleasant, woodsy, oak-lined road that plows ahead through stretches of absolute nothingness all the way to Metcalf Road. At that point, you’re almost in Morgan Hill. It’s a great drive. From San Felipe, strange roads veer off into Blair Witch-style territory with ominous “No Outlet” warnings. When I wrote a column about this in 2021, Google placed the intersection of San Felipe and Metcalf in “San Felipe, CA, 95138.”
It gets even crazier. Back at White and Aborn, you’re also near Nieman Boulevard, which comes barreling through suburbia to conclude at Capitol Expressway. But if you go the other way, the same exact street, Nieman Boulevard, then becomes Silver Creek Valley Road, circling all the way down to 101, where it crosses the freeway and becomes—drum roll, please—Blossom Hill Road. This is a fairly recent-as-of-30-years-ago connection. From there, of course, you can go all the way to Winchester Boulevard in Los Gatos without ever leaving the same road.
There is nothing more beautifully absurd than standing at the corner of Aborn and Nieman Boulevard in Silver Creek, pointing southward on Nieman and saying, “Get on that road and you’ll wind up in Los Gatos.” Wait, what?
You must be a San Jose native to understand why the absurdity is amazing. Tech Bro transplants won’t get it.
Many San Joseans have suffered through ridiculous conversations with nonnatives who ask stuff like, “Why does this street become that street, why do the names change, yadda yadda.”
It’s who we are. We’re all assembled from previously broken pieces. Nothing gets finished, no one ever becomes fixed or healed.
And what would be the corner of Aborn and San Felipe without a lazy segue down Keaton Loop to Champion Nishikigoi, an amazing Japanese koi fish pond retailer and breeder that has now operated for over 20 years. They have pumps, supplies, a gift shop and all sorts of stuff. A secret gem of San Jose.
Back at Aborn and San Felipe on a Friday evening, aromas of Indian food filled the parking lot. Native-Spanish-speaking HVAC repairmen were buying beer at the liquor store. Kids, with helmets, rode by on BMX-style motorbikes. I vowed to return.
