California

The Intern Whoop: Taking a Local Day Pt. 2
Last year, I discovered newness inside my town and wrote a blog detailing this adventure: Local businesses and new people; I got outside—it was great. Check out, “Taking a Local Day” HERE.

Part Duex

On the first of the year, my wife and I moved from snowy Coeur d’ Alene, Idaho to sunny San Luis Obispo, California. I grew up here in SLO county, well south county, I guess.

Despite my history here, everything seemed new; the mountains had never looked greener and skies had never been bluer. The local troves held new names and faces, while their sidewalks ferried fresh bodies to and fro.

We were in a land of newness and I was bound to explore it.

Then we got jobs. Well, I got an internship and she got a job.

Makin’ Copies

My internship so far has been ideal. There isn’t much grunt work, and I’m treated as an employee with as much to say as anyone else. Though yesterday, I made copies for five hours.

Five hours. I can still smell it. The copies.

In the middle of my copying madness, I was given a quick job to distribute a notice to all the local businesses in our strip regarding a meeting of some sort.

I welcomed the break.

Makin’ Discoveries

strip mall

outside

There were twelve of these notices to hand out. I peeked outside, “there’s twelve shops here?”

For over two months I’ve worked here. Besides the coffee shop, I had no idea who my neighbors were.

“There’s twelve shops?” I repeated.

So once again, I ventured out; I took a local day. Shaking hands, I discovered business owners, employees and their products.

One shop offered full car-audio installation, with a contract for city police vehicles (two were inside). Another shop sold used baby clothes, and right next to it, golf gear. Further down, I met some kids working in a skateboarding warehouse who specialized in online sales; further down, there was a Muay Thai kick boxing ring.

Like us, they were all just trying to make their mark and tell their story. Before yesterday, they didn’t exist. At least not to me.

Reminded

It’s terrible, our bubbles. We hide inside and shut out the world—sometimes on purpose, most times unknowingly. Like a horse race, we focus on the goal and miss the uniqueness that surrounds it, even if the goal is just a parking spot.

Culture is a beautiful thing. Sometimes, embracing it is as simple as walking outside.

Any good stories of meeting your neighbors? What else can we do to break our daily routines? Are all routines bad? I’d love some feedback.

Pawnee or Bishops? (Go Take A Hike)

Every Saturday morning I wake up to a familiar and tempestuous thought. I roll over in bed, listen to the wind labor through the morning air and think: “ya know, I could just stay in bed… all day.”

As for Megan and me, we don’t have kids.

Neither of us work Saturdays.

It’s been a chilly California 57 degrees as of late.

Our TV is right in front of the bed; yes, of course we have Netflix.

This is the problem. See, we’re still adjusting to California winter. Our minds are telling us it’s much colder outside than it really is. In Idaho, it’s not uncommon to take a “bed day” here and there throughout winter.

It’s a terrible excuse, I know.

I didn’t even look outside before burning through three episodes of NBC comedy, Parks & Recreation. (Great show by the way; every episode literally gets better.)

But then I looked outside.

Sure it was a little windy, but also warm. Sunny in-fact! California sunny! We both had an “oh yeah” moment and thought: instead of watching Parks & Recreation, why don’t we actually go to a park and recreate… (it sounded better in my head).

All this to say, Megan and I turned our lazy Saturday into a volcano hiking, boulder hopping excursion. Finally, we marked a mountain off our list and hiked San Luis Obispo’s favorite volcano—Bishop’s Peak.

I won’t go into too much detail here. It’s a wonderful hike. The terrain changes every twenty minutes it seems. Take the trail and you’ll see: dry mountainous, shaded, mossy forest, New Mexico-esq boulders. There’s even a bench dedicated to “George: The Hiking Cat.”

To top it all off there’s a view of the ocean at the top. Not bad for a day almost spent in bed. As far as Sunday goes… I wont be moving my legs.

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George Cat

Bishops 1

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Bishops 4

Monterey: You Otter See This Place

Monterey

Yesterday, the wife and I visited Monterey Bay. For the ocean lover it’s a hard to beat stop on the California One. We were lucky, only two hours from San Luis Obispo. Our journey wasn’t as thorough as hoped, but we fit in what we could.

The purpose of the trip was to visit my brother and grandfather, the pair have been working in the bay. We arrived earlier than they were ready to meet for lunch, so we stopped at Fisherman’s Wharf to explore.

The Wharf is great. There were two boardwalks—one built for tourists with shops and restaurants and another for the fishing industry—and both can be traveled upon. The first, more touristy boardwalk, carried hostesses outside of their restaurants offering clam chowder samples. Later, my grandfather called these people barkers, I guess that’s a term.

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The other boardwalk, or pier, was more true to fishing and marine life. It was there we looked down and saw a lonely otter, dipping below the water and returning with fresh muscles from the pier side. The otter did lay beautiful on it’s back as we watched, with a better view than those paying aquarium admission, her break open the shells and eat the ill-fated, squirmy treasure. 

otter

The entire Wharf, as you’d imagine, was surrounded by sailing boats and fishing vessels. As a former student of the Fall semester North Idaho College sailing class (no big deal here), I must admit my ocean-loins were raging. Is that a thing? 

Definitely a thing.

As I was saying, the boats of the Wharf were something to see. I’ve never been on a ocean vessel; it is a dream of mine and I hope to sail the seas someday.

ships

Just as our parking spot, we ran out of time. We left the Wharf and joined my brother and grandfather in Moss Landings, just north of Monterey. A small town who doesn’t offer much except fresh seafood, a quaint beach, and (on the way in) a killer farm stand, Moss Landings was quite enough for me.

Impulsively, we swerved off the road and stopped at a farm stand offering “Artichokes 10 for $1”. As any green-blooded american would expect, we went to town on produce. Kiwis, avocados, jalepenos, pistachios, a big jar of garlic-infused olives… and of course artichokes.

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Finally, we ended up in Moss Landing at none other than world famous Phil’s Fish Market. I had never heard of this place before, but apparently it’s a big deal. Just like the website asks, I too wondered, “is this worth the wait?” The line petered out the front door into the parking lot. I didn’t realize it then but we were probably the last of fifty people in line.

It took a while.

The line was so long in fact, we ordered drinks as we stood. I enjoyed a tasty Guinness. It’s too easy to forget how well the beer pairs with seafood. (A lesson I first learned from my Ireland trip).

The food, the beer, the catching up; it was all great. My brother and I shared a platter of deep fried seafood; we haven’t done that since we were children. My grandpa always teases me about my childhood fear of thinking the deep-fried squid were deep-fried spiders.

Some things they’ll just never let go.

food

As tasty as the food was, I must admit, the best part was not the food itself. Anyone can deep fry a squid. The best part of Phil’s was the atmosphere. We sat outside and enjoyed the sound of the waves and the heat of the sunshine. After, we all walked along a short trail, just outside the restaurant, to the beach.

It was the first time I can ever remember going to the beach with my grandpa. He spoke of the hassle he felt the ocean’s shores to be. The sand, the wind… But even he, my grandpa, was enjoying himself at the beach that day.

As I get older, times like these become more and more special.

Our sky made ready for the night. The sun began to dip cautiously into the horizon like a match extinguishing in water. We all looked on. As a final end to our travels, a pair of otters broke the surface to bid us all a good day’s journey and a safe passage home.

I’m Trying to Kill My Wife: Montaño De Oro Edition

photoSo my wife thinks I’m trying to kill her. She keeps pointing out stuff about California I never really thought about and now I must admit; it sounds a little fishy.

“You brought me to a land of earthquakes, rattlesnakes, tsunamis, giant spiders, mountain lions, poison oak, and sharks. Are you trying to kill me?”

“But it’s sunny!” I insist.

Anyways, we went to Montaño De Oro State Park today. It’s literally one of my favorite places on the planet. Today I realized how similar it is to certain parts of the Dingle Peninsula in Ireland. That could be a reason why. So if you haven’t been to this State Park before, go now!

I’ll give you a tip first: Dress warm. It’s always windy, but today was extra chilly. Always worth it of course. Thankfully, last second I remembered a puffy-vest was currently sleeping in the back of my car. That did the trick.

Before you even hit the water, the drive up is incredible. Take Los Osos Valley Rd. until it turns into a little town. Keep straight and it will take you up a little hill that eventually gets curvy, woodsy, and fun. You’ll start seeing signs for the state park. There’s also cars parked along the way, no doubt surfers attempting some “secret” spot.

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It could be a car commercial road, like wooosh

As soon you pass a gorgeous ocean scenery, well, yeah you’re there. The ocean.

Before I moved to Idaho, I told myself that my favorite spot in California was Montaño. I’m not sure if that holds true any more, but it’s Top 5. And I’m a Top 5 type of guy.

If you’re into scenic pictures, there’s even VW Vans.

Through Painted Oceans

Through Painted Oceans

If you’re into surfing. Don’t go to this beach. It’s very rocky, and I’m not talking Stallone. Well I may be, it depends on your definition of “Stallone.”

I won’t bore you with endless pictures taken from my iPhone. If you scour the internet, I’m sure people brought real cameras and took great shots worthy of a book or something. Still, I really like this last one. So here it is:

I call this one "Rock in Ocean"

I call this one “Rock’n Ocean”

Yeah you should come here. If you’ve been, then you know what I mean. If you are a friend from Idaho reading this, you need to see this for yourself. So come visit already.

Saying Goodbyes, Lessons of Moving

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Laying awake last night, my wife slept and my mind raced with questions: Should we really leave? Is it the right decision? Can we really fit everything in the Prius? Can the Seahawks beat the Redskins? … there may have been one or two rabbit trails.

It’s been close to four years since I left California for Idaho; an easy decision at the time. Now, I can’t imagine why I would ever leave Idaho… the Northwest.

It’s beautiful. There’s snow. The people are as genuine as it gets. There’s coffee on every street corner.

I absolutely love the comfort of life up here. Still, I know I’m near to leave. This time, I suckered a pretty lady into coming with me. Well we’re married so she has to come.

So we’re saying our goodbyes. My work friends, her family, our church amigos, the turkeys on the street, we will not see them for a little while.

I wanted to write an in-depth reflection of my time here, but that sounds boring. Instead, I think I’ll just give a little advice:

Live Like It’s Your Last Week In Town: Tell those you love that you love them. Hang out with the people most important to you. It’s foolish to wait, as I have, to thank everyone for their kindness and grace. Enjoy the present.

Throw Away Your Stuff: We have been getting rid of things I never knew existed, and yet for some reason have been packing around for years. It’s great to get sentimental over things that matter, but a pile of burned CDs from high school just needs to go away.

Go On An Adventure: I’m a big fan of these. It doesn’t have to be a life changing-geographical move, but grab someone you love and take them somewhere new, somewhere challenging. Phones, internet, TV… they are all promoting a lie that the world is a small place. It’s not, in fact it’s huge. Go out and see for your self.

Hey north Idaho, thanks for everything.

Wishing Wells: The Bastard Child of American Economy

On the way to class I walked by a wishing well fountain. You know, people throw in change, make a wish, maybe say a quick prayer to Fountainess: The Goddess of Outdoor Décor. Anyways, it was being drained in preparation for winter. I guess they do that here.

In California the fountains run all year, so this was a weird sight. I didn’t realize these things get drained. California is something of an ideal state for wishing wells. Year round coinage.

As I watched the water drain and the naive coins surface, I considered grabbing a few and heading to Taco Bell. I was hungry after all. After pondering the sin value of stealing wish money, I exercised some will power and decided against it. Probably best.

Musing over the economic impact of a wishing well. 

When you spend money, it goes to someone else who eventually spends that money. Through some portal, interest is ultimately added and more money is created. Walla! It’s the big cycle that in essence is our economy. Every time you eat, go to the movies, or buy kitten calendars, you participate in growing the financial system. The more we spend, theoretically, the more our economy grows.

There’s theories and stuff.

Let’s assume we go to a wishing well that is never drained. We stand at the edge and throw in our coin. It hits bottom and falls out of reach, theoretically for all eternity. In another words, it’s spent. What’s most interesting is that the transaction (a wish for a coin) effectively takes money out of the economy. This never happens! Head explode? Anyone? (Is this thing on?)

I think it’s safe to assume I just defied all modern economic theory.

It may at least explain why California can’t balance the budget or seem to tax enough to pay for anything. I mean, their wishing wells are in full swing year round! That’s money taken out of the economy every day! At least Idaho recoups in the winter.

So this brings me to the close. I’ll leave you with some conundrums to query.

What income level makes it socially acceptable to steal from a wishing fountain?

Are there any other ways we spend and kill money at the same time?

Who throws change into a wishing well during a recession anyways?  

Is Kevin’s Theory of Wishing Well Economics worthy of a Nobel Prize?