Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (I Hate Freeways)

               It might surprise some people to read this, but public transportation is nearly nonexistent where I grew up in New York. I say “nearly” because a few larger towns in the North Country have busses and taxies, but not where I lived. The closest I’d ever come to using public transportation is the school bus. If you needed to go somewhere, you had to have a car. If you didn’t have a car or someone with a car to drive you, then you didn’t really need to go someplace all that badly. 

                As I said in my first blog post, the first time I ever got an airplane was the first time I visited California in 2013. I’ve been on a few planes over the last three years during my other two trips to California, and I realize now that I’ve actually never been on a plane with someone else. That seems completely opposite to what most people experience, where they travel with family or friends and eventually, someday brave an airplane ride by themselves. Perhaps someday I will fly with a companion, but at least I know I can conquer the airport by myself.

Taken somewhere close to California. June 2014.

                The first time I rode a public bus in California felt similar to the school bus (aside from all the adults on board and having to pay $1.75 to ride). It was cool to say I’d successfully taken the bus by myself, but to be honest, I really don’t like taking the bus. The main reason for that is they don’t stop at every bus stop, they only stop if someone is there to pick up. So, if you aren’t familiar with the route, you might not know when to pull the string above you to signal to the driver that you need to get off. This happened to me when I took the bus to a bicycle store. I had a vague idea of when I needed to get off the bus, but I had no idea which stop I needed to get off at. So, I followed our route on the map in my iPod Touch (no, I don’t have a smartphone), and I got off when I thought we were getting fairly close to my destination. I ended up walking for a mile or two to reach the store. After that, I decided just to ride my newly purchased bike home.

My handy-dandy Rider's Guide to public transportation.

                My first ride on a train was a little more exciting, merely for the fact that I’d never been on a train before. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the trains in North County of southern California, there is a smaller train called the Sprinter, which travels from Oceanside in the western part of the county, to Escondido in the eastern part of the county. The entire route is 22-miles long, with 15 stations, and costs $2.00 for a one-way ticket, or $5.00 for a day pass if you intend to make a lot of stops. There is also a larger train called the Coaster, which travels north and south along the coast, from Oceanside to downtown San Diego, with 8 stations along the 41-mile track. A one-way ticket costs $4.00-$5.50, depending on which “zone” you’re traveling from.

I’ve been on the Sprinter several times, usually from my house to downtown Oceanside. While I’ve had the problem of not knowing which bus stop to get off at, the train stops at each station regardless of if anyone is getting on or off. It’s a quick ride to Oceanside, taking maybe a total of 10 or 15 minutes, and from there I generally just walk around, though you can take bikes onboard. I used to take the train more often before I bought my first car (and when I had more spending money to allow myself to be tempted by window shopping).

Heading east to the coast on the Sprinter.

I’ve only taken the Coaster once, and the trip was an event that took up the entire day. The Coaster itself was fairly easy to deal with (and the view down the coast was beautiful), but the day I took it, the original train was cancelled due to a car accident on the train tracks down in San Diego. We were placed on an Amtrack train, which is supposed to go north to Los Angeles, but they made an exception for us.

Beautiful coastal view from the Coaster.

On that particular day in August 2015, I was heading down to El Cajon to get a tattoo (a Northern New York tribute sleeve, to be exact). The trip started at the Sprinter station, which I took to Oceanside. After a lengthy delay, I took the Amtrack south and get off at the Old Town station in San Diego. Since I didn’t have a smart phone at the time (and still don’t as I write this), I had to walk around Old Town in search of a particular store that Yelp told me would have free Wi-Fi so I could call for a Lyft. The day was scorching, and as I weaved in and around historical buildings, I finally found the bakery that was supposed to have Wi-Fi. The woman working there informed me that they do not. Panic began to set in, and I proceeded to ask various people in old-timey Western clothing which stores or restaurants had free Wi-Fi.

Finally, sweating from the heat and the panic of potentially being late to my appointment, I found a store and begged them to give me their Wi-Fi password if I bought a much-needed smoothie. The young woman working there looked at me with sympathy (or maybe pity, as I was sweating bullets and clearly frustrated), and assured me that they always gave their password to paying customers. So I sipped my strawberry-something-or-other smoothie (which was delicious, by the way), and pulled up the Lyft app.

Thank you, kind lady, for the smoothie and Wi-Fi.

Which brings us to another relatively new form of public transportation: Lyft and Uber. I honestly prefer Lyft because it’s a little cheaper, but they both have the same function. Similar to a taxi, Lyft and Uber drivers are everyday people just looking to make some extra cash (though there are some dedicated individuals who use Lyft and Uber as their main source of income). The app shows little cars to let you know which drivers are nearby and waiting to pick someone up. I requested a ride, and my request was sent out to nearby drivers. A young man accepted the request, and I accepted him. My picture and some basic info was sent to him, as well as my location. Lyft showed me his name and picture, and what type of car to be looking for. After he picked me up, I gave him the address of the tattoo shop. We got there only a few minutes late (of course I gave my tattoo artist a heads-up). After the driver dropped me off, he was paid through my Pay Pal account.

The return trip later that night was a little easier. A friend of mine who lived in La Jolla picked me up and took me to the Coaster station, which took me back to Oceanside, then I took the Sprinter to the stop closest to my house, and finally drove my roommate’s Ford Expedition home.

So why didn’t I just drive the truck down to my tattoo appointment? For one thing, I’m not willing to spend that much money on gas, and for another: I HATE FREEWAYS.

Freeways are everywhere in this part of the state. Where I’m from we have one—Route 81— which I’ve never had a reason to drive down by myself. Here in California, it’s difficult to avoid them, but I’ve managed to for most of the 14 months I’ve lived here. The freeways (and roads in general) in southern California are generally crammed with people who act like the speed limit is a joke. That’s not to say I’ve never speeded, but if you drive less than 65 or 70 miles per hour on the freeway, you best get out of everyone’s way. I’m terrified of being in a car crash, and the more people you pack into one area, the more likely a crash will happen. Factor in the number of unskilled, drunk, aggressive, lazy, and/or inattentive drivers there are in the world, and you have a recipe for disaster. No, not everyone is a bad or drunk driver, but I can’t get over the amount of stupid and dangerous driving I see every day, not to mention the serious lack of signal light and headlight usage.

With all that said, I’ve had to learn how to drive on freeways out of necessity. While there may be alternate routes to my destination, often the freeway is the fastest and most direct route. Even with David as my co-pilot, my first few drives on the freeway were nerve-wracking. Eventually, I learned to overcome my fear and drive them by myself. Yesterday (May 10^th, 2016), I accepted a new job which will require that I drive down two freeways to reach it. I’m not looking forward to this at all, but I consider it experience. And isn’t the entire purpose of a cross-country adventure to overcome your fears and gain new experiences?

Flora and Fauna

This time, I’m going to write about a topic very near and dear to my heart: nature.

I honestly don’t know why I’ve put this topic off for so long, but that’s probably because I was hung up on writing about specific events rather than broad subjects.

It goes without saying that the climate in Northern New York is wildly different from the climate in Southern California, and with that comes a slew of differing plants, animals, and weather. The first time I visited California in 2013, I remember arriving at our first stop (the memorial service for my friends’ deceased grandparents. Yeah, I know, strange thing to do on your first trip to California) and I looked up at the massive palm tree growing outside their house. My mouth gaped open at the sheer height of the tufted tree, to the point where David looked at me like I was a weirdo. What can I say? I’d never seen a palm tree up close, but out here they’re on every street. Literally.

My very first palm tree sighting. They are a common roadside "attraction."

The day I officially moved to California (March 14, 2015), was a relatively mild late-winter, early-spring day in New York. The snow was beginning to get a little melty, and the temperature was in the low to mid-thirties, so it was “warm” by winter standards. When I landed in California, I looked like a fish out of water. I was laden down with a winter jacket, my tall, faux-leather boots, and two massive bags, sweating in the 80-degree weather on the busy street. It was a shock to the system, to say the least.

In the thirteen months I’ve lived in California, I would consider the climate incredibly mild and consistent. The sun shines nearly every day, bringing with it “warm” to downright “scorching” temperatures. There are few occasions where I’ve felt truly cold, and the majority of them involved air conditioning or a persistent breeze. Rain seldom falls, and when it does, the locals react with a mix of pure joy and sheer terror. I’d hate to see them in a blizzard back home.

I’ve heard the weather in New York described as “bi-polar” and “extreme.” The differing seasons fluctuate between freezing cold to unbearably humid, and it’s difficult to say what the “typical” weather is like for any given season because it can do pretty much anything you can imagine. In summer alone it might rain for two weeks straight and there won’t be even the slightest hint of sunshine, or it can be in the 80s and so humid that you’re constantly drenched with moisture.

 

Due to these wild fluctuations, I grew up able to detect the scent of rain in the air long before the storm hit, and I could predict that the snow would begin to melt when I particular plant or animal revealed itself. It is also because of these extremes that I learned to truly appreciate a warm, sunny day. I honestly believe the majority of Californians are spoiled by the incredible weather, and many take it for granted. I’ve heard more than one person say, “Why go to the beach? It’s always there. I’m over it.”

What do you mean “I’m over it”?! Back in my day we had to walk uphill both ways to get to the beach, then we had to use an auger to drill through the ice so we could pretend to enjoy the water.

Of course, that’s not every Californian, but I have heard that statement before.

Where I’m from is very rural and is covered in forest. I truly grew up “in the backwoods,” along with all sorts of plants and animals. We always had birds, squirrels, deer, raccoons, opossums, skunks, and even bears, coyotes, and foxes roaming through our backyard. You could predict when Mama Deer and her twins would show up, and my photographer mother jumped at any opportunity to snap a photo of the creatures that traipsed through our yard.

The first time I saw these large wild mushrooms, I was honestly very surprised they could grow in such a dry environment.

Here in California, I find the wildlife to be very limited. We have a lot of mourning doves and small songbirds around our house, but that’s about it. (We did have a rather large rat living in the backyard, but one of the five dogs took care of that). It’s a rarity to see undomesticated furry creatures in our neighborhood, though I have encountered one deer standing in the road since I moved here. That’s one deer in thirteen months. Back home, it’s more like thirteen deer in a week. One of which unfortunately met an untimely end on the front bumper of my car. Rest in peace, little guy.

There are a few creatures I’ve never seen before that are fairly common here. For one thing, there are many small lizards that love to hide in the bushes lining the roadsides and crawl onto the sidewalk to bask in the sunlight during the day. Also, the first time I saw a pelican near the ocean, I cried out with excitement.

These lizards are everywhere! Photo taken at Old Point Loma Lighthouse.

“Look! It’s a goddam pterodactyl!” I shouted. To my surprise, they will fly in a V-shaped formation, exactly the same way our Canada geese do back home (which is one of those telltale signs that winter is coming, or spring is coming, depending on which month it is).

You can't forget the majestic sea lion. This was my first time seeing ones, at La Jolla Cove.

In all honestly, pelicans scare me as much as they put me into a state of awe. They are massive up close, and when you have some food in your hand, they watch you like a stalker waiting for an opportunity to snatch whatever you’re carrying. It’s unnerving to say the least.

I often think of these as the equivalent of daisies in New York because they are so common.

There are many plants in Southern California that are similar to the ones in New York, but they are often planted by humans and likely not native to California. If you drive through any neighborhood, there are obvious signs that landscaping is a big industry out here. Shrubs are regularly pruned, the roadsides have sprinkler systems installed in them, and nearly every neighborhood has an entrance lined with flowers that generally don’t grow wild. Even many of the “outdoorsy” places I’ve visited, like parks and hiking areas, always have a feeling that they’ve been shaped and altered in same way by human hands. There are few places I’ve been that feel truly like “authentic” wild nature, like I experienced back in New York.

The morning glories are exactly the same back home.

A massive prickly pear cactus. Photo taken in Penasquitos Canyon.

I imagine this isn’t just a California thing, but something seen in urban areas across the country. My friend Purp (who is also from New York, and yes, that’s just a nickname), is involved in “forestry research, environmental conservation, and environmental geographic information science.” She has had a very difficult time finding a job within her career field while living in Southern California. She believes it has a lot to do with the fact that the majority of people in this area are more concerned with industrialization and consumerism than the environment. That’s not to say that absolutely no one gives a damn about the environment, but it’s plain to see just how many construction projects occur in Southern California every year. It seems like you can’t drive a mile without witnessing the slow construction of a new business area or apartment complex. This will ultimately have a huge impact on the social aspects of the area, and it honestly pains me to see how many trees are cut down and hills are flattened just so we can cram more people into already overpopulated areas, then drown them in Starbucks coffee. Somehow we've come to believe that progress can only be achieved by replacing the wilderness with concrete, and the idea of "environmental conservation" has become radical.

I'm not sure what these are, but they are absolutely gorgeous.

I collected a plethora of roadside flowers for pressing. The majority of which were undeniably succulent of some sort.

Hibiscus feel undoubtedly West Coast.

At the very least, I’m glad to see the areas that are deemed “protected” for the sake of the flora and fauna that live in them. Generally, these are lagoons and forested areas that are maintained so that people can use them as hiking and biking trails, but it’s better than nothing. I’m thankful for these preserved plots of nature, because every time I’m stuck in a traffic jam or find myself sidling through a crowded store, I long for the next time I get to venture out of suburbia and take a walk down a dirt path. 

The ducks and geese living in Guajome Park are so used to humans you can practically pet them. I wouldn't recommend you try, however.

I'm sure he appreciates a protected forest. Photo taken in Penasquitos Canyon.

During those moments in the wilderness, I become very intrigued by the plants that grow naturally out here. Many of them are succulents, which I used to think were ugly, but have come to grow on me (no pun intended). Other times, I notice the “California version” of plants and animals that I saw every day in New York, like pine trees and the ground squirrels that make their homes in the cliff sides near the ocean. I find the little tuft of fur on the tips of their ears especially cute.

An adorable West Coast squirrel. The ultimate beach bum. Photo taken at La Jolla Cove.

I could probably go on and on about all the different plants and animals on the west coast, but working on this post is actually taking me away from what I long for most: more time spent outside among the wind and trees, and less time sitting under florescent lighting in front of a computer screen. I look forward to the day I live surrounded by plants and animals, but until then, I’ll gladly take a day on a hiking trail over a day at the mall.