I returned last night from a week’s vacation in So. Cal and SLO. I haven’t been in Southern California for THREE YEARS, which is a crazy thought. I had forgotten what it’s like there—mountains + ocean together felt like a radical concept after being on the East Coast these past few years.
Minus the L.A. traffic (props to my dad for driving like a L.A. pro*), we had a great time. My nephews had their first belly dancing/Moroccan dinner experience, my sister and I tried to photosynthesize our skin parts, and we kicked it on La Isla with my parents.
I spent one glorious evening and part of a day in SLO, which wasn’t nearly enough. I met up with my friends for the traditional Taco Tuesday feast, and they filled me in on what’s changed in the three years I’ve been gone. I was happy to see that not much had, minus a few of our friends who
sold out got married. They’ve added new bike games to their lineup, most notably, the “Little 500,” which, from what I can tell, consists of beer, 700c wheels, a team-style of racing, dirt, and drop handlebars. Extreme croquet is still played, though there seems to be a lack of Bicycle Polo in the lineup.
Mostly, though, it was so wonderful to be back in the land of no-seasons, red tile roofs, and hills and mountains everywhere. It’s kind of cool to be away so long, because when you go back, it’s a whole-new, radical world.
* This means he’s mastered going 85 in the HOV lane and can effectively cross six lanes of traffic without looking in his rearview mirror.