'Speckled patches of pastels in Tahoe's Montane wetland meadows lead down to a beach of crushed granite sands, bits eroded from the surrounding mountains. The beach is narrow but sparsly populated and the gritty sand corridor is soon covered by shallow waves of cool fresh water. The tawny shallows reach out a few hunred feet and, from the shore's view, fade into a bright azure broaken by the crystal wakes of speedboats. In the far distance, azure turns to the deep-water blue that becomes so impressive when seen from higher up on the mountain vistas. From there water meets land at distances hard to gauge from lake-level. Deep blue meets forest green but a faded hue-- made so by the expanse of air between the mountains and the eye. The dark green is broken only by patches of lighter chlorophyl-- the green meadows of manicured ski slopes-- and the concrete grey of bare rock. I'm drawn in by the colors here. The presence of others here is inescapable-- the hum of motors and occasionally the drone of a small airplane. Still, I can't help but feel a fair amount of solitude-induced serenity. This is just what I need.'
This was my journal entry a week ago as I sat under some shade at the Tahoe Keys beach. After graduation, I took a week-long victory lap around California: to the south shore of Lake Tahoe and to Oakland to visit Colin. It was a very bittersweet trip. It was some of the last moments I may spend with some of the more dear friends I have made in AmeriCorps. While it's nice to say that I'll see them again, it will probably not be all together in the same place. It was also the last time that I could reflect on the experience with a lot of people who had been through the same thing. One of the more alienating parts of being away is that few people have asked me about my experiences, so I've mostly kept them to myself.
It was also possibly one of the last times in the near future that I'll be in the state of California. I thought I was going to have the chance to explore the state a lot more earlier this year when I had applied to be a team leader for the Pacific campus, and that was one of the selling points of taking on another year of NCCC. Ultimately it worked out in my favor-- as another year of NCCC probably would have killed me, but I can't help but feel like I missed something by only scratching the surface of experiencing the area.
As you can tell from the first prompt, I have a deep respect for the landscape of the state. Tahoe was a jewel I discovered this year, but the area seems to be filled with them. I spent a day with Colin on the coast south of San Francisco visiting the beaches off of Hwy 1. It was a magically foreign landscape of beach and mountain, grey skies occasionally breaking and lighting up the sand dune's vegetation like Christmas lights. Water met rock with foam and spray, and the tide pools and beachside teemed with algae and kelp and crab.
The coastal mountains I had first seen early this year around Napa when we were lost on our way home from the northern California's Mendocino redwood forests. They were arid but not devoid of life. Much of the higher land was mostly withered pasture sprinkled with clumps of brown or dull green, but one could imagine the mountians exploding with vegetation with a few of the winter rains. It turned the words of the many Steinbeck novels I have been reading this year into a reality, something I a thankful for seeing as he is my favorite author. The towns of Salinas and Monterey are still on my 'to visit' list, but I feel like I got a good sense nonetheless.
The scenery of the Central Valley was equally spectacular. For miles there would be nothing but orchards, vinyards, or wheat fields with the occasional mountain looming in the distance. The aroma as we drove through would penetrate even the closed car windows, and it was a joy to travel through the orchards during flowering seasons. While the history of the area is sprinkled with people's hardships and the misuse of water and overuse of chemicals, it's hard not to appreciate what symbiosis of man and plant that people have been able to carve out of a fertile land. It's also impossible not to respect the area as the cornucopia of food that keeps much of the nation alive.
Besides the land itself, the people of California are innovative and hard working, though in areas a bit pretentious-- I admit. There is a lot to be said, however, for innovation and progressiveness. Something that I have realized about my home state is the acceptance of mediocraty. When we find something that is 'good enough' we tend to stick with it. We call it classic. We don't feel the need to have the best. While this shields us from going overboard with the excesses of progressiveness (we have very few Museums of Tolerance or Churches of Scientology in Indiana), it also keeps us realizing our potential for creativity and innovation. We are happy having chain restaurants like Applebee's feed us and super-stores like Walmart supply us: they are fairly cheap, convenient, and reliable. Unfortunately they are making us fat, insulated, and reliant on motor vehicles to drive out to the suburban strip-malls to visit them. I know that every state is going through the same societal trend, but we seem to be the first to jump on board. Many companies use Indiana as their testing grounds for new products because we are so darned average. It just grinds my gears sometimes.
Well getting back on topic, the culture of California is also incredibly cosmopolitan, offering the best of many European, Asian, and Latin American ideas and-- not to mention-- food. The amount of taquerias elsewhere in America is sadly inadequate. Right where we lived on the North Highlands campus, we were within walking distance of two taquerias, a Korean and Phillipino grocery, a Thai restaurant, a soul-food BBQ joint, and a pizza place where everyone spoke by Russian. And this was in the shabbier side of town.
I guess that's pretty much all I have to say about the state. I don't mean to paint a picture of a utopia, the place has got plenty of problems-- a budget crisis right now for one. I can't see myself living there for any great period of time, and there are plenty of places I have no desire to return to: LA for instance. However, being there did give me an appreciation for the rest of the country that I had not known growing up in Central Indiana. It's the first place I've really been able to explore as an independant adult, so I guess it will have a certain significance for me.
This was my journal entry a week ago as I sat under some shade at the Tahoe Keys beach. After graduation, I took a week-long victory lap around California: to the south shore of Lake Tahoe and to Oakland to visit Colin. It was a very bittersweet trip. It was some of the last moments I may spend with some of the more dear friends I have made in AmeriCorps. While it's nice to say that I'll see them again, it will probably not be all together in the same place. It was also the last time that I could reflect on the experience with a lot of people who had been through the same thing. One of the more alienating parts of being away is that few people have asked me about my experiences, so I've mostly kept them to myself.
It was also possibly one of the last times in the near future that I'll be in the state of California. I thought I was going to have the chance to explore the state a lot more earlier this year when I had applied to be a team leader for the Pacific campus, and that was one of the selling points of taking on another year of NCCC. Ultimately it worked out in my favor-- as another year of NCCC probably would have killed me, but I can't help but feel like I missed something by only scratching the surface of experiencing the area.
As you can tell from the first prompt, I have a deep respect for the landscape of the state. Tahoe was a jewel I discovered this year, but the area seems to be filled with them. I spent a day with Colin on the coast south of San Francisco visiting the beaches off of Hwy 1. It was a magically foreign landscape of beach and mountain, grey skies occasionally breaking and lighting up the sand dune's vegetation like Christmas lights. Water met rock with foam and spray, and the tide pools and beachside teemed with algae and kelp and crab.
The coastal mountains I had first seen early this year around Napa when we were lost on our way home from the northern California's Mendocino redwood forests. They were arid but not devoid of life. Much of the higher land was mostly withered pasture sprinkled with clumps of brown or dull green, but one could imagine the mountians exploding with vegetation with a few of the winter rains. It turned the words of the many Steinbeck novels I have been reading this year into a reality, something I a thankful for seeing as he is my favorite author. The towns of Salinas and Monterey are still on my 'to visit' list, but I feel like I got a good sense nonetheless.
The scenery of the Central Valley was equally spectacular. For miles there would be nothing but orchards, vinyards, or wheat fields with the occasional mountain looming in the distance. The aroma as we drove through would penetrate even the closed car windows, and it was a joy to travel through the orchards during flowering seasons. While the history of the area is sprinkled with people's hardships and the misuse of water and overuse of chemicals, it's hard not to appreciate what symbiosis of man and plant that people have been able to carve out of a fertile land. It's also impossible not to respect the area as the cornucopia of food that keeps much of the nation alive.
Besides the land itself, the people of California are innovative and hard working, though in areas a bit pretentious-- I admit. There is a lot to be said, however, for innovation and progressiveness. Something that I have realized about my home state is the acceptance of mediocraty. When we find something that is 'good enough' we tend to stick with it. We call it classic. We don't feel the need to have the best. While this shields us from going overboard with the excesses of progressiveness (we have very few Museums of Tolerance or Churches of Scientology in Indiana), it also keeps us realizing our potential for creativity and innovation. We are happy having chain restaurants like Applebee's feed us and super-stores like Walmart supply us: they are fairly cheap, convenient, and reliable. Unfortunately they are making us fat, insulated, and reliant on motor vehicles to drive out to the suburban strip-malls to visit them. I know that every state is going through the same societal trend, but we seem to be the first to jump on board. Many companies use Indiana as their testing grounds for new products because we are so darned average. It just grinds my gears sometimes.
Well getting back on topic, the culture of California is also incredibly cosmopolitan, offering the best of many European, Asian, and Latin American ideas and-- not to mention-- food. The amount of taquerias elsewhere in America is sadly inadequate. Right where we lived on the North Highlands campus, we were within walking distance of two taquerias, a Korean and Phillipino grocery, a Thai restaurant, a soul-food BBQ joint, and a pizza place where everyone spoke by Russian. And this was in the shabbier side of town.
I guess that's pretty much all I have to say about the state. I don't mean to paint a picture of a utopia, the place has got plenty of problems-- a budget crisis right now for one. I can't see myself living there for any great period of time, and there are plenty of places I have no desire to return to: LA for instance. However, being there did give me an appreciation for the rest of the country that I had not known growing up in Central Indiana. It's the first place I've really been able to explore as an independant adult, so I guess it will have a certain significance for me.
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