Mirabile Dictu Vol. 1
So I thought to liven up livejournal a bit, I'd start posting excerpts from my real journal., my 5-inch leather bound travel journal that has taken me through California, Boston, and places soon to come. I'd post them in LJ cuts so you people who just skim these things looking for your names don’t have me messing up your friend's page. Its not like anyone reads LJ anymore, anyway.
This one is from a year ago, my trip to Santa Cruz. My first time on the west coast and my first time seeing the beautiful mountains of Northern California.
March 11, 2004
Yesterday Tim and I took it upon ourselves to explore the city of Santa Cruz on our own, since our wonderful hostess Brynn had to write a paper. We had a shopping list of places we wanted to check out and a limited time to do so; we got cracking at 9 am after a quick breakfast at the Cowell College Dining Hall. We started by hitting the UCSC bookstore to mail some postcards and purchase camera # 3. After leaving our mark behind a bus stop, we took the 15 bus to Metro Transit on Pacific Ave.
Pacific is the main downtown street of Santa Cruz. Its where you got shops, cafes, record stores, movie theaters and some of the nicest street performers and bums I've ever met. The metro transit center sits in the heart of Pacific.
Sitting at the Metro transit bench on a weekday, you will see the essence of Santa Cruz walking, skating, biking by, an interesting, beautiful parade of drastically distinct people, each one amazingly individual: curly haired college student with plaid collar shirt and purposely clashing necktie; older Mexican gentleman in cowboy hat and denim, leather skin, and sharp eyes; a physically (and/or mentally) disabled woman (or man, I can't tell from here) zipping past in his/her electric wheelchair, with headphones on and swerving around... young earthy woman with flowing thrift store dress and sea shell sandals, ethereal, natural, long, wavy, messy hair blowing in the breeze; young skateboarder boy with chip on his shoulder, in need of an attitude adjustment rolling past with evident doleful innocence seeping through his wannabe hardened face; men with long white beards and Mexican women with the weight of the world on their tired shoulders boarding lanes 1, 2, 3, catching buses to places like Capitola, Mission, Scotts Valley. And two idealistic wanna-be adventurers (kids), (college kids, at that), from Florida watching the flow of buses and people, people without any pretentions or care for what others may think of them. How beautifully weird.
Santa Cruz has the heart and charm of a small town, with the artisitic, eclectic, diverse, and lovingly fucked up people of a big city. What a great town.
This one is from a year ago, my trip to Santa Cruz. My first time on the west coast and my first time seeing the beautiful mountains of Northern California.
March 11, 2004
Yesterday Tim and I took it upon ourselves to explore the city of Santa Cruz on our own, since our wonderful hostess Brynn had to write a paper. We had a shopping list of places we wanted to check out and a limited time to do so; we got cracking at 9 am after a quick breakfast at the Cowell College Dining Hall. We started by hitting the UCSC bookstore to mail some postcards and purchase camera # 3. After leaving our mark behind a bus stop, we took the 15 bus to Metro Transit on Pacific Ave.
Pacific is the main downtown street of Santa Cruz. Its where you got shops, cafes, record stores, movie theaters and some of the nicest street performers and bums I've ever met. The metro transit center sits in the heart of Pacific.
Sitting at the Metro transit bench on a weekday, you will see the essence of Santa Cruz walking, skating, biking by, an interesting, beautiful parade of drastically distinct people, each one amazingly individual: curly haired college student with plaid collar shirt and purposely clashing necktie; older Mexican gentleman in cowboy hat and denim, leather skin, and sharp eyes; a physically (and/or mentally) disabled woman (or man, I can't tell from here) zipping past in his/her electric wheelchair, with headphones on and swerving around... young earthy woman with flowing thrift store dress and sea shell sandals, ethereal, natural, long, wavy, messy hair blowing in the breeze; young skateboarder boy with chip on his shoulder, in need of an attitude adjustment rolling past with evident doleful innocence seeping through his wannabe hardened face; men with long white beards and Mexican women with the weight of the world on their tired shoulders boarding lanes 1, 2, 3, catching buses to places like Capitola, Mission, Scotts Valley. And two idealistic wanna-be adventurers (kids), (college kids, at that), from Florida watching the flow of buses and people, people without any pretentions or care for what others may think of them. How beautifully weird.
Santa Cruz has the heart and charm of a small town, with the artisitic, eclectic, diverse, and lovingly fucked up people of a big city. What a great town.