Grab a Sweatshirt - We're Going to the Beach!

Yesterday was a day of many firsts for me. It was my first time in California, my first time in the Mojave, my first time seeing the Pacific Ocean, etc. Today, however, was the first day I truly got to experience California. I got a glimpse at what my life might be like if I lived here, and I liked the picture.

The day started off with Cara and I unpacking the U-haul, and putting the bulk of her belongings into storage. Everything stored without a hitch, but it was interesting to see what happened to the items we packed while traveling across country. All of the contents had shifted and some things had come unpacked from their bags or boxes. There were a few casualties - a large picture frame for instance, but mostly everything was fine.

The drafting table base, however, was not so lucky. The same drafting table that we struggled to get out of Cara's apartment and into the U-haul was severely bent. Granted it can be fixed, but the idea that the thing that gave us the most trouble was the thing that was the most damaged was a bit disheartening.

After unpacking the U-haul, and turning it back over to the extremely attractive man at the U-haul store (he was blond, with a tan, big blue eyes, and the perfect amount of stubble - needless to say, I enjoyed the scenery), we took Cara's car to a local mechanic. As it turns out, there are many things wrong with the car, and the mechanic informed us we wouldn't be able to retrieve it until tomorrow afternoon. Being car-less in Huntington Beach would have been a problem if Cara's brother and sister in-law hadn't loaned us their bicycles for the day.

While her brother and sister in-law live in Huntington Beach, they are 6 miles from downtown shopping and entertainment. Cara and I biked the 6 miles to the pier and downtown on a bike trail that runs between the Pacific Coast Highway and the ocean. If you have never biked down the Pacific coast, I highly recommend it. The scenery is breathtaking, the humidity is low, and the atmosphere is very relaxed and uber-casual. I haven't ridden a bike in years, so I jumped at the idea of riding again. While six miles seemed a touch far, I was up for the challenge, and it was one of the most rewarding experiences of not only this trip but my life as well.

It was the first time during this entire trip that I didn't look or feel like a tourist. My camera was in Cara's bag, I was dressed in rolled up jeans and a t-shirt, and by having a bike without the other typical beach accouterments - I successfully blended in with the local population. This virtual invisibility gave me the opportunity to observe the locals - those who had mistaken me for a neighbor.

There was a lady walking her very small paraplegic dog. It's back legs were useless, but it had wheels attached to it's harness, so it could still walk. It was basically a canine wheelchair, but this dog was anything but handicapped. This tiny firecracker charged toward a much larger dog that must have been at least six times its size, its back wheels spinning with fury. Its owner - an older heavy-set woman - had to pull him back - his little wheels spinning reverse against his will.

There were two gay men disciplining their four legged children while attempting to pack a mini-van. Apparently one of the dogs was being very bad; he was being singled out. Both of them, however, got an earful. I wondered then how much dogs comprehend yelling. Is yelling ultimately futile? Do canines understand the intent behind the loud?

There was a lifeguard in his red shorts - his tanned body glistening in the sun. Cara and I had stopped to dip our feet in the Pacific when a buoy came loose and drifted up on shore. I was taking a picture of Cara with it when this lifeguard came up to retrieve the buoy. He probably knew we were tourists, because of the camera, but how often does a buoy come ashore?

Before we left Cara's brother reminded us to take a sweatshirt, because it gets windy and cold by the beach. I'm thinking, it's July - we're in California - the sun is shining - who needs a sweatshirt? I did. I needed a sweatshirt like crazy. I have always wondered why you see photos of Californians in shorts and sweatshirts, and I learned quite quickly. The wind of the ocean makes it incredibly chilly, and the lack of humidity keeps it that way. In South Carolina, taking a sweatshirt to the beach in July (or any summer month) is unheard of, it would be like taking pork chops to a bar-mitzvah. (Well maybe that's too strong; it wouldn't insult a religious heritage - it would just be stupid.)

After we arrived I bought a red lifeguard sweatshirt that reads "Huntington Beach" on the front, and officially returned to the status of tourist. I had, however, already slipped under the radar - I could see both sides. I had opened a window into the non-tourist California, and I wasn't about to close it.

Cara and I enjoyed our time downtown, but before we left to ride another six miles back to the apartment, we saw two young gay men holding hands. I pointed it out to Cara, and we both had the same reaction: "AW." Another group of people did not have the same reaction, however. A group of college-aged townies were walking past, and the young men of the group seemed very put off.

These were the kind of young men that exude testosterone; their masculinity seeming almost an an affectation - an act of what they expect they should be. Too afraid of not being seen as macho, the young men were quick to loudly bash the young gay couple. "That's just wrong," one said. "Two guys shouldn't be walking down the street holding hands," another chimed. The girls of the group stood up for the gay couple. "What's wrong with it?" one asked. "They're just being who they are," another said.

I was happy to see the young women stand up for the young couple, but I had to fight the urge to say something myself. If two young men choose to express their affection for one another by holding hands in public - who are these other young men to say otherwise? No one jeers when straight couples hold hands, and in terms of PDA - holding hands shows affection without being disturbing. It is a safe way to display how much you care, without being over the top. They weren't making out (any couple making out in public is just gross), but unlike the straight couple under the pier, these guys were just holding hands.

It is 2010; when will people learn that gay people are not to be feared, ridiculed, or treated as second-class citizens? What is so disturbing about the idea of two people loving each other? If two people care about each other, what does gender really matter? I had held high hopes for the current generation of college students. I had hoped they were more open-minded, and that homophobia was becoming a thing of the past. Watching these guys, however - so disturbed by the sight of two men together - reminded me that while it may be 2010, we still have a long way to go.

After riding back to Cara's brother's place, Cara and I headed to Trader Joe's to buy some pre-dinner snacks. Trader Joe's is a chain grocery store, and while they have had them in places I have lived - I had never been inside of one. Cara decided that this trip was the perfect time to lose my Trader Joe's virginity, and off we went. Truthfully, it now ranks high on my list of grocery stores. It's well lit, clean, and has a variety of great tasting generic brand products. (They even make Trader Joe's Indian dishes; the butter chicken is quite good. I also bought a package of carrot cake cookies that hopefully will live up to my expectations. They came highly recommended by the cashier.)

After today, I can definitely see the allure of California. It is beautiful, with hundreds of miles of coastline, and everything is accessible. I could easily see myself living here. Riding along the coast with the wind at your back and the beauty of the world ahead of you is truly a spiritual experience. Truthfully the whole bike-ride today made me question my decision to take the job in Alabama. Did I make the right decision? Can I really see myself living in Birmingham? Why did I choose to look for jobs in the deep South instead of out West? Will I be able to have an experience this beautifully spiritual there? I guess time will tell if I made the right decision. If I have, then all is for the best; If I haven't, then it's only for a year.