The Road Ahead
Lost in the Redwoods

They start them early

I have remarked to several people over the past month about the sheer number of unicyclists around Santa Cruz. Many cycle their way amongst traffic, a rather remarkable feat given the hills right around campus, others along the boardwalk, and even, in a remarkable sight, some have even taken to shredding through the UCSC bike trails.

Where did this interest come from? I don’t know, but I at least know now why they’re all so good.

The above picture comes from Indymedia reports about Santa Cruz’s own self-organized New Year’s Eve party, complete with wiki. Click on the photos for more images of the Pacific Garden Mall (which I mentioned featured in Gillian Welch’s "Wrecking Ball"; did I mention she’s a UCSC alumna?).

Sadly, N and I bowed out of this anarchic festiveness, and I really am quite sad, given a certain esprit de pays mentality, but we did visit some friends up in the North Bay and went to a great show with Les Claypool’s Fancy Band. Gabby La La in particular was amazing (her theremin playing was extraordinary), though I must confess that her CD, which I was so excited about afterwards, is not as exciting. The show was in the Sonoma County Fairgrounds, where they apparently still have actual 4-H style fairs, and the concert itself was in this medium-sized bunker-style conference hall, with lots of people milling about, live sculpting and painting, a hydroponics setup, an Apocalypto-themed New Year’s float, and scores of greco-mythologized woodland creatures on Powerizers (I was watching in envy, though apparently they are harder to use than one might think.).

All told, a wonderful New Year’s Eve, though we did have an ugly two hour commute back at 6.30 after not sleeping and a tense game of Cranium (really, a bit too shiny for me). But even that (the drive, not the Cranium game) had its pluses: I’ve never seen the ocean at sunrise (ahh, the coloration of the Pacific, a subject for another post), and traversing the Golden Gate pre-dawn, with the fog retreating as though parted by its bulk, was a moving experience. Perhaps even more so than watching a man in a chimp mask doing the rock-god strut.

They start them early

I have remarked to several people over the past month about the sheer number of unicyclists around Santa Cruz. Many cycle their way amongst traffic, a rather remarkable feat given the hills right around campus, others along the boardwalk, and even, in a behold-to-believe sight, some have even taken to shredding through the UCSC bike trails.

Where did this interest come from? I don’t know, but I at least know now why they’re all so good.

The above picture comes from Indymedia reports about Santa Cruz’s own self-organized New Year’s Eve party, complete with wiki. Click on the photos for more images of the Pacific Garden Mall (which I mentioned featured in Gillian Welch’s "Wrecking Ball"; did I mention she’s a UCSC alumna?).

Sadly, N and I bowed out of this anarchic festiveness, and I really am quite sad, given a certain esprit de pays mentality, but we did visit some friends up in the North Bay and went to a great show with Les Claypool’s Fancy Band. Gabby La La in particular was amazing (her theremin playing was extraordinary), though I must confess that her CD, which I was so excited about afterwards, is not as fantastic. The show was in the Sonoma County Fairgrounds, where they apparently still have actual 4-H style fairs, and the concert itself was in this medium-sized bunker-style conference hall, with lots of people milling about, live sculpting and painting, a hydroponics setup, an Apocalypto-themed New Year’s float, and scores of greco-mythologized woodland creatures on Powerizers (I was watching in envy, though apparently they are harder to use than one might think.).

All told, a wonderful New Year’s Eve, though we did have an ugly two hour commute back at 6.30 after not sleeping and a tense game of Cranium (really, a bit too shiny for me). But even that (the drive, not the Cranium game) had its pluses: I’ve never seen the ocean at sunrise (ahh, the coloration of the Pacific, a subject for another post), and traversing the Golden Gate pre-dawn, with the fog retreating as though parted by its bulk, was a moving experience. Perhaps even more so than watching a man in a chimp mask doing the rock-god strut.

a brief respite

This afternoon, while we were preparing lunch, N pointed out what was so out of place about the morning: utter silence. Ok, not utter silence, but relative to what we normally experience. Our apartment is conveniently located at the base of the UCSC campus, right on the main entry road. 15,000 students plus, say, 2,000 staff, makes this something of a local highway. So much so that we have to use a white noise machine to sleep at night. And yet, this morning, for the first time ever: silence. No cars. Or rather, one every 10 minutes.

Of course, now, as I write this, things are returning to normal. Plus ca change…

starbucks

About a month ago I was volunteering in Watsonville at a legal aid agency while I was looking for a job.  Watsonville is the kind of town that makes you feel like you are out of the country.  Old Latino men with big cowboy hates sauntered down the main street, the street smelled like mexican food and of course everyone spoke spanish.  It is a wonderful place to be.  In need of a break, and tired, I decided to get some coffee.  The only coffee shop in the area was of course a starbucks….but I went in anyway. I decided it was like a carbon credit situation, my volunteering at the legal aid canceled out my purchasing coffee from a major chain store that probably put all the other local coffee shops out of business.  With cup in hand, I walked back to my little agency and a woman came up to me, gave me a mean look and said, “I’ve been known to hit people with a starbucks cup.”  Not liking the idea of getting hit, I quickly walked away…still holding the cup.  I had that feeling you get when you’re caught by your parents coming home late….and unfortunately, that was a feeling I was quite familiar with as a teenager.  Needless to say, the coffee did not taste too good after that.  Now my guilt has increased since I heard on NPR today that Starbucks is fighting Ethiopia’s attempts to trademark their coffee to help the farmers who grow it make (more) fair wages…probably still not good wages in their economy.  Starbucks is fighting fair trade wages in a country that needs any help it can get. 

The bottom line - I should really stop drinking coffee.  However, what does that leave me with…tea? I’m sure there is a lot of fair trade tea out there (ha ha).  Then there’s the bottled water industry (nope), the milk industry (nope), orange juice (migrant workers…nope). 

No more liquids is clearly the only solution.

- N.

And finally, winter

Last night, as we ate dinner at a rather mediocre pizzeria on the Santa Cruz Pacific Ave. strip, we noticed something unexpected outside: rainfall. Rain! The climate here is so unBostonian — not a drop of rain past April (May? can’t really remember) through summer and fall, and then, in late October/early November, suddenly it begins to rain again. For four months, we’re told. Such is the cruelty of winter in these parts. Up here on campus, this morning, the fog blanket was thicker than normal, and the usual humidity that comes from the redwoods was replaced by something much more palpable, the thick fog of a string of horror movies. Not that I feel any dread; far from it. Walking this afternoon after lunch, I was amazed by how different the place seemed with the fog infecting everything, how quickly I became lost, how buildings simply ceased to exist around me, how I felt such solitude even as students passed me by, shadows across the gray background.

New England weather, how I thought I would miss thee

Today was warm, even downright hot up on the UCSC hilltop (perhaps 80-85). And I, foolish knave of the Central Coast climate, wore a sweatshirt as I walked up to campus in the broiling sun.

My reasons were just: just yesterday the temperature was in the mid 60s, though for the few days before it was in the high 70s. I had thought that Indian summer that comes to this part of the world in late September/mid October was gone, its passing heralded by the arrival of the monarch butterflies from Mexico (a sight we have yet to behold). But no, it was back in full force today.

But somehow, as with all days here, the afternoon heat quickly passed after 4. There was a sudden bracing chill when N picked me up at 4.40, and by 6.00 as it grew truly dark, the heat was a vague dream. Santa Cruz is too seafaring to have warm, let alone hot, nights. Every night it turns 55 with a forbidding suddenness, as though a storm is brewing.

But the vagaries of afternoons are more complex. Many days it simply does not climb back above 60, and fog hugs the hills like some wraith, making us remember the Boston grays. Other days it clears by 9.00, but the heat doesn’t come until 12.00. And some days, it feels like home again — we wake and it is bright and hot, and we can’t even smell the sea, so dead is the air. But as the day wanes, things turn aright again, the temperature plummets, and the palm trees remind us that paradise, after all, isn’t unending warmth.

Speaking of music

A little SC-pride — while listening to Gillian Welch’s Wrecking Ball this afternoon during bread-baking, finally caught the last lines:

With too much trouble for me to shake
Oh, the weather and the blindin’ ache
Was ridin’ high until the ‘89 quake
Hit the Santa Cruz Garden Mall
Like a wrecking ball

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Global warming, it’s too hot for school.

So on N’s favorite new station, we recently heard a song by the Monterey-based sister-singer-songwriter duo Vermillion Lies, which advertises itself as a found-object musical extravaganza (including, of course, musical typewriter, though in fewer numbers than the quintessentially Cantabrigian BTO). Their songs (from a quick perusal in Itunes) have that knowing fourth-wall bending style I’m a sucker for. By way of advertisement, a selection from the song we heard, “Global Warming” (this is, admittedly, from my hearing so it’s probably inaccurate in many respects):

…But what about the polar bears? They can’t go naked, they’re already naked.
We’ll build a freezer for the polar bears,
We’ll build a freezer and put all the penguins in there,
We’ll build a freezer for the elephants–
But that’s too cold for elephants.
Ok, ok…
We’ll build a fridge for the elephants,
We’ll build a fridge for…people who want to wear pants!
We’ll build a fridge for assorted miscreants.
Global Warming.
Global Warming.
Gloo-baal warming:
It’s too hot for school.

It’s of course a bit hard to convey the music here. Suffice to say, two guitarists, a lot of harmony, and a fair bit of dropping into voice.

First Post

This is my first post.

So, we’re still settling into California. Check out the pictures on this site to see how our move went and what santa cruz looks like. People have been asking me similar questions about what I like about California and what I miss about Boston. Here’s a list right now. I will add and subtract in the future - N. More