Ahoy,
A took me to Santa Barbara over spring break this past March. It was for rock climbing. We were in the mountains overlooking the city and into the ocean. It was gorgeous, to say the least. Afterwards, we pillaged for Mexican food downtown. Great success. We came back this time for the California Wine Festival in Santa Barbara. It wasn't in the mountains; we were on the beach.
Carmageddon ended up being no big deal, similar to Y2K.We fished for seafood prior to the event. The day was sunny and warm, but the sea breeze was perfect. Wine glass in hand, we charged into the drunken masses. I'm kidding. They weren't that drunk yet. Live music, wine, beer, and the occasional appetizer food item made for a glorious day. Apparently, A and his friend, L, shucked a sea of oysters. I had this gross organic, vegan cookie. Never again! By the end, the port-a-potties were out of toilet paper with a waiting line out the wazoo. Most everyone was tipsy, loud, and friendly (as far as I can remember).
We lazed on the grass for a little bit after we left. At which point a freebie took place that I will forever refer to as the lettuce incident of 2011. We had each received a grocery bag with 4 boxes of lettuce, but then A spotted them giving away the whole boxes that held the boxes. Never one to turn down free things, he decided he wanted it. The box was big enough to occupy more than half the back seat of the car, in addition to the grocery bags. All I could think about was where we were going to put all that and how it was going to get consumed. I don't even like lettuce that much.
despairingly herbivorous,
JT
Monday, July 18, 2011
Sunday, July 10, 2011
the park
Ahoy,
One of my favorite things in LA, and California, are the parks. At Berkeley, I loved how close I was to forests and nature and how all of it was nestled into the city and landscape of urban space. Having grown up across the street from the park and the Lakefront, I've become used to having parks and natural landscapes nearby. I've always loved living in cities, but they wouldn't be the same if not for the parks that polka dot its interiors.
Parks in LA are of a different grade than in other cities. Not as common are the playgrounds and picnic fields of New York Public Parks or Chicago Park District. Like much of California, parks in LA tend to be forest preserves or regional/state parks. They are protected swatches that have always been trees and forests that now happen to have trails. It's a trip to get to these parks. In NYC, there is a goal of every resident being within a 10 minute walking distance from a park. I don't think that would be possible here. I love the park, and the ones I've been to in LA are great, but they're just so far away. Like everything else in this city.
So he told me we were going to Griffith Park, but we were stopping at other ones along the way because I get antsy and restless in the car. So we never made it to Griffith Park, but ended up only making it to Runyon Canyon Park. There were canyons, dogs, a horse, and a goat. None of them followed me home.
exhaustively compliant,
JT
One of my favorite things in LA, and California, are the parks. At Berkeley, I loved how close I was to forests and nature and how all of it was nestled into the city and landscape of urban space. Having grown up across the street from the park and the Lakefront, I've become used to having parks and natural landscapes nearby. I've always loved living in cities, but they wouldn't be the same if not for the parks that polka dot its interiors.
Parks in LA are of a different grade than in other cities. Not as common are the playgrounds and picnic fields of New York Public Parks or Chicago Park District. Like much of California, parks in LA tend to be forest preserves or regional/state parks. They are protected swatches that have always been trees and forests that now happen to have trails. It's a trip to get to these parks. In NYC, there is a goal of every resident being within a 10 minute walking distance from a park. I don't think that would be possible here. I love the park, and the ones I've been to in LA are great, but they're just so far away. Like everything else in this city.
So he told me we were going to Griffith Park, but we were stopping at other ones along the way because I get antsy and restless in the car. So we never made it to Griffith Park, but ended up only making it to Runyon Canyon Park. There were canyons, dogs, a horse, and a goat. None of them followed me home.
exhaustively compliant,
JT
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
where LEGOland is
Ahoy,
Due to time and other considerations, we did not go to LEGOland. Fear not, brave souls, I will return. LEGOland will be mine.
So we went to San Diego to visit one of A's best friends and explore, of course. I was told it should, theoretically take 2 hours to get there (which is still a long trip by my standards). Due to traffic and other considerations, it took upwards of 4 hours (count 'em - 1-2-3-4 hours!). I was taught the word for 'jalopy' in Spanish in high school. To which I and my classmates replied with various confused and disbelieving groans and gripes as to what that was and why it would ever be relevant to us and when we would ever use it. The highlight of this drive to San Diego was probably seeing these 2 old, what I could only describe as jalopies carrying cargo and furniture that was stacked twice as high, on top of, and over the jalopy. To my amazement.
We stayed with his friend on his ginormous couch in a house full of people that I wasn't sure if they all lived there or not. The people were really nice, but "unambitious," he described. Nonetheless, we had a grand time engaging in conversation, television, food, and games with the household. Mostly excellent restaurant selections were provided throughout the weekend ranging from happy hour appetizers to Mexican. A boy at the dim sum restaurant was wearing a LEGOland hat. There was a barbecue Saturday night at which 12 pounds of meat were consumed. Apparently 12 pounds was not enough.
A and I went to the beach on Saturday and climbed around some cliffs and looked at ginormous, (probably) expensive houses. We likely trespassed on someone's property and sat on their chairs. I only have evidence of his delinquency. What a shame. On Sunday we ventured downtown to the Seaside Village, probably equivalent to the Chicago lakefront. Tourist traps galore amongst the Navy ship and giant red lobster. The usual people that look like statues, balloon animal artists, stalls for souveneir tchotchkes. There was this one guy that was stacking towers of rocks of deceptively uneven surfacing. He would have a bunch of large flat-ish ones and then the top 2 would be a super tiny pebble like thing with a ginormous one on top of it. We spent an evening at Old Town, which I'm sure would have a lot of historical significance, but seemed more like a theme park of the wild west with souveneir shops instead of saloons. It looks a lot like those towns from Oregon Trail. How many wagon axles and boxes of ammo will you need to cross the river before spring?
Nothing but sun, per usual. Apparently it was hot, but it wasn't humid enough for me to really catch on fire.
broilingly dry,
JT
Due to time and other considerations, we did not go to LEGOland. Fear not, brave souls, I will return. LEGOland will be mine.
So we went to San Diego to visit one of A's best friends and explore, of course. I was told it should, theoretically take 2 hours to get there (which is still a long trip by my standards). Due to traffic and other considerations, it took upwards of 4 hours (count 'em - 1-2-3-4 hours!). I was taught the word for 'jalopy' in Spanish in high school. To which I and my classmates replied with various confused and disbelieving groans and gripes as to what that was and why it would ever be relevant to us and when we would ever use it. The highlight of this drive to San Diego was probably seeing these 2 old, what I could only describe as jalopies carrying cargo and furniture that was stacked twice as high, on top of, and over the jalopy. To my amazement.
We stayed with his friend on his ginormous couch in a house full of people that I wasn't sure if they all lived there or not. The people were really nice, but "unambitious," he described. Nonetheless, we had a grand time engaging in conversation, television, food, and games with the household. Mostly excellent restaurant selections were provided throughout the weekend ranging from happy hour appetizers to Mexican. A boy at the dim sum restaurant was wearing a LEGOland hat. There was a barbecue Saturday night at which 12 pounds of meat were consumed. Apparently 12 pounds was not enough.
A and I went to the beach on Saturday and climbed around some cliffs and looked at ginormous, (probably) expensive houses. We likely trespassed on someone's property and sat on their chairs. I only have evidence of his delinquency. What a shame. On Sunday we ventured downtown to the Seaside Village, probably equivalent to the Chicago lakefront. Tourist traps galore amongst the Navy ship and giant red lobster. The usual people that look like statues, balloon animal artists, stalls for souveneir tchotchkes. There was this one guy that was stacking towers of rocks of deceptively uneven surfacing. He would have a bunch of large flat-ish ones and then the top 2 would be a super tiny pebble like thing with a ginormous one on top of it. We spent an evening at Old Town, which I'm sure would have a lot of historical significance, but seemed more like a theme park of the wild west with souveneir shops instead of saloons. It looks a lot like those towns from Oregon Trail. How many wagon axles and boxes of ammo will you need to cross the river before spring?
Nothing but sun, per usual. Apparently it was hot, but it wasn't humid enough for me to really catch on fire.
broilingly dry,
JT
Monday, July 4, 2011
happy 4th on the beach
Ahoy,
We returned to LA for fireworks. I guess technically not LA. Redondo Beach is a little south of LA. We tried to meet A's friends from tennis when it started. There were 2 shows. After the first one (disappointing), apparently a boat drove out and set off another set closer to us. Off in the distance we could see fireworks from a few other cities. But still, nothing like what Chicago has.
satisfactorily adequate,
JT
We returned to LA for fireworks. I guess technically not LA. Redondo Beach is a little south of LA. We tried to meet A's friends from tennis when it started. There were 2 shows. After the first one (disappointing), apparently a boat drove out and set off another set closer to us. Off in the distance we could see fireworks from a few other cities. But still, nothing like what Chicago has.
satisfactorily adequate,
JT
Saturday, June 25, 2011
moving week
Ahoy,
I've never really had to move so much as find places to store my stuff. My many years of going to school away from home has resulted in flights that must include free bags. Other than taking my things back and forth from home to school, moving for me has always meant moving my stuff into storage so I can go home and making sure I am under the 50 pound weight limit.
But we're moving apartments this week. So that means make a big mess, transport the big mess, and sort through and reorganize the big mess. This should be fun. A has a lot of clothing.
materialistically piled,
JT
I've never really had to move so much as find places to store my stuff. My many years of going to school away from home has resulted in flights that must include free bags. Other than taking my things back and forth from home to school, moving for me has always meant moving my stuff into storage so I can go home and making sure I am under the 50 pound weight limit.
But we're moving apartments this week. So that means make a big mess, transport the big mess, and sort through and reorganize the big mess. This should be fun. A has a lot of clothing.
materialistically piled,
JT
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
back in the bay
Ahoy,
I've always regarded this place as school. So it's strange to return and look at it through a different lens. It's strange to not have to be in class or taking the bus up to the lab for work (which were so overly extravagant - my only regret is not continuing to work with LBL if only just for bus privileges). For however much I griped about being here, I've found an affection or nostalgia for the people, places, and things I encountered during those 3 years. I'll admit there have been things I've missed about the bay. Yogurt Park, for example, which is actually soft serve ice cream marketed as frozen yogurt. Swing dancing on Sproul Plaza was always something I looked forward to when I was a student.
What's especially strange is looking at everything from a moving automobile. I had always walked, biked, or bused my way around. It's amazing how different your perspective can be from an automobile over that of walking. Regardless, mobility was never a concern when I lived here. I believe that's one of the best advantages this part of California has over its southern counterpart. The streets are narrower. Things are closer together. People are actually on the sidewalks and it doesn't take eons for the walk light to switch on. No cars required. We had a bus pass that was good for the county bus system. That was probably one of the smarter investments they required us to pay with our tuition.
languidly calamitous,
JT
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
planes, trains, and automobiles
Ahoy,
So I'm pretty sure it took nearly 3 hours to get from the airport back to A's apartment by public transit. I landed a little after noon.
1. FlyAway from LAX to Van Nuys.
Van Nuys does not mean the Metro Orange line stop for Van Nuys. It just means in-Van Nuys-and-still-incredibly-far-away-from-everything-else. Why would I expect otherwise? So I ask the lady at the ticket counter for how I should get to the Metro Orange line stop. She does not seem to know what I'm talking about. She must be one of those Angelenos that-doesn't-know-public-transportation-exists-in-her-city. She mentions that she thinks there's a bus stop outside that may or may not go-somewhere-I-want-to-go-in-a-timely-or-untimely-manner. I move on to ask the police officers if they know how I should get to where I want to go. One guy says there's a bus stop across the street outside the bar that goes-straight-down-the-street-and-probably-to-where-I-want-to-go. Another fellow intercepts and describes the bus as unreliable-and-who-knows-how-long-the-bus-will-take. The group of officers have a huddle to discuss the best way to get to where I want to go. After much ado about nothing, they concur with the first guy and so I cross the street to wait for the bus outside the bar. It is just about 1300 hours at this point. The sidewalks are melty and treeless. And I'm pretty sure this was when I got gum on my shoe.
2. Metro 237-Woodley
The bus arrived, to my amazement, in a timely manner. Rode straight down Woodley Avenue to the Woodley Metro Orange line stop. This was easy and quick.
3. Metro Orange Line
Rode from Woodley to Sepulveda. This was easy too. And then I had to wait for the Metro bus to get back to the apartment. I'm pretty sure I waited nearly an hour here. I've waited here for this bus in this direction before. Last time, I got impatient and rode the I'm-too-impatient-to-wait-for-the-bus-that-takes-forever-so-I'm-just-going-to-walk-to-Target-now. But I had luggage this time, so I waited. My dad called and I told him yes-I-am-back-at-the-apartment-and-am-now-preparing-food-to-eat-no-it-is-not-noisy-where-I-am.
4. Metro 234
Finally! Rode straight down Sepulveda to my final destination. And the tricky thing was I didn't have keys. So I was banking on arriving at in-a-timely-manner-so-I-could-catch-someone-still-there-to-open-the-door-for-me-or-else-I-would-have-to-break-in. Lucky for me, A's roommate goes out the door at late-to-never-hours-unless-he-needs-food-or-to-walk-the-dog-because-he-doesn't-seem-to-be-doing-much-else-productive.
I arrived just after 1500 hours. Quite the journey.
solely sticky,
JT
So I'm pretty sure it took nearly 3 hours to get from the airport back to A's apartment by public transit. I landed a little after noon.
1. FlyAway from LAX to Van Nuys.
Van Nuys does not mean the Metro Orange line stop for Van Nuys. It just means in-Van Nuys-and-still-incredibly-far-away-from-everything-else. Why would I expect otherwise? So I ask the lady at the ticket counter for how I should get to the Metro Orange line stop. She does not seem to know what I'm talking about. She must be one of those Angelenos that-doesn't-know-public-transportation-exists-in-her-city. She mentions that she thinks there's a bus stop outside that may or may not go-somewhere-I-want-to-go-in-a-timely-or-untimely-manner. I move on to ask the police officers if they know how I should get to where I want to go. One guy says there's a bus stop across the street outside the bar that goes-straight-down-the-street-and-probably-to-where-I-want-to-go. Another fellow intercepts and describes the bus as unreliable-and-who-knows-how-long-the-bus-will-take. The group of officers have a huddle to discuss the best way to get to where I want to go. After much ado about nothing, they concur with the first guy and so I cross the street to wait for the bus outside the bar. It is just about 1300 hours at this point. The sidewalks are melty and treeless. And I'm pretty sure this was when I got gum on my shoe.
2. Metro 237-Woodley
The bus arrived, to my amazement, in a timely manner. Rode straight down Woodley Avenue to the Woodley Metro Orange line stop. This was easy and quick.
3. Metro Orange Line
Rode from Woodley to Sepulveda. This was easy too. And then I had to wait for the Metro bus to get back to the apartment. I'm pretty sure I waited nearly an hour here. I've waited here for this bus in this direction before. Last time, I got impatient and rode the I'm-too-impatient-to-wait-for-the-bus-that-takes-forever-so-I'm-just-going-to-walk-to-Target-now. But I had luggage this time, so I waited. My dad called and I told him yes-I-am-back-at-the-apartment-and-am-now-preparing-food-to-eat-no-it-is-not-noisy-where-I-am.
4. Metro 234
Finally! Rode straight down Sepulveda to my final destination. And the tricky thing was I didn't have keys. So I was banking on arriving at in-a-timely-manner-so-I-could-catch-someone-still-there-to-open-the-door-for-me-or-else-I-would-have-to-break-in. Lucky for me, A's roommate goes out the door at late-to-never-hours-unless-he-needs-food-or-to-walk-the-dog-because-he-doesn't-seem-to-be-doing-much-else-productive.
I arrived just after 1500 hours. Quite the journey.
solely sticky,
JT
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
into thin air
Ahoy,
This week we were on the other side of the mountain from last week. Except, it was a lot easier to get to. Instead of driving up a really windy, bumpy dirt road where people had been getting their cars stuck, there was a tram that rode you straight to the top. How extravagant! What a pampered life rock climbers lead... The top popped you out into a ski-resort type lodge. Apparently people come up here for prom. There were loads of varieties of dress and footwear. I think it's funny when people go somewhere that is meant for hiking in their finest heels. How are they supposed to explore?
swirlingly dazzled,
JT
Friday, June 3, 2011
greetings & salutations
Ahoy,
Central Park in my backyard is definitely one of the perks of living in NYC I miss. The closest large park is Balboa Park, which is about half a mile away. Being close to a park is great but it's no Central Park. There are not nearly enough trees and not nearly enough shade. The road to get to the park is like running alongside a freeway. After having been able to run for 6 miles straight through Central Park without stopping for the past few months, I was definitely not used to having to stop for traffic at crosswalks. As far as distance goes, there is plenty, but goodness! it was so boring! There is a golf course, so it was lots of lawn, not much variation in the landscape to my right, and traffic to my left. I don't like running when it's hot and boring. Actually, I don't like running ever, but hot and boring enhances the not liking.
The weirdest thing to me was that people kept saying 'hi' or asking how I was doing. Not even people that were just walking, people running too. I saw maybe 20 to 30 people on the trail and most of them said something. In Central Park, I see hundreds of people and not once have I ever said anything or anyone ever said anything to me (sincerely, that is, but that's a whole 'nother story). I've been told to live in NYC, but leave before I get hard. I think this is just indicative of how much human interaction people in each city get. LA and NY are the biggest cities in the States, but it's amazing how different they are. LA breeds its population to sit in cars all day. It's possible to get in and out of your house without ever encountering another soul. But in NY, the streets and subways are filled with people that have invaded each others' personal space. Of course people in LA have the capacity to greet other people, they haven't been bombarded by them all day, every day already. I had heard about this social phenomenon before in movies and classes, but it's interesting to be able to experience and observe it.
deadeningly amused,
JT
Central Park in my backyard is definitely one of the perks of living in NYC I miss. The closest large park is Balboa Park, which is about half a mile away. Being close to a park is great but it's no Central Park. There are not nearly enough trees and not nearly enough shade. The road to get to the park is like running alongside a freeway. After having been able to run for 6 miles straight through Central Park without stopping for the past few months, I was definitely not used to having to stop for traffic at crosswalks. As far as distance goes, there is plenty, but goodness! it was so boring! There is a golf course, so it was lots of lawn, not much variation in the landscape to my right, and traffic to my left. I don't like running when it's hot and boring. Actually, I don't like running ever, but hot and boring enhances the not liking.
The weirdest thing to me was that people kept saying 'hi' or asking how I was doing. Not even people that were just walking, people running too. I saw maybe 20 to 30 people on the trail and most of them said something. In Central Park, I see hundreds of people and not once have I ever said anything or anyone ever said anything to me (sincerely, that is, but that's a whole 'nother story). I've been told to live in NYC, but leave before I get hard. I think this is just indicative of how much human interaction people in each city get. LA and NY are the biggest cities in the States, but it's amazing how different they are. LA breeds its population to sit in cars all day. It's possible to get in and out of your house without ever encountering another soul. But in NY, the streets and subways are filled with people that have invaded each others' personal space. Of course people in LA have the capacity to greet other people, they haven't been bombarded by them all day, every day already. I had heard about this social phenomenon before in movies and classes, but it's interesting to be able to experience and observe it.
deadeningly amused,
JT
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)