I pack up the tent on Wednesday, November 20, and then fly
to Minnesota the next day to visit with family and friends over the
Thanksgiving holiday. Upon returning to Colorado, I spend a few days enjoying
the last of Nugget Hill, and then fly to San Francisco for a conference. I
arrive Monday evening, present on Tuesday afternoon, and then spend Wednesday
and Thursday wandering around the city, both on excellent public transit
and on foot. I love San Francisco! For the first time in the United States, I
feel like I am walking around a global city. Compared to Boulder, SF is the cultural
capital of the universe. Here is the song that became my San Francisco jam.
Unfortunately, Monday night’s dinner is disappointing:
some colleagues had gotten a recommendation for a Chinese restaurant in
Chinatown, which turns out to be an upscale restaurant where the prices don't seem to be related to the quality of the food. I order a “black garlic” spare rib soup ($10), both
because it is the cheapest thing on the menu and because I had never heard of
black garlic. Apparently this is some sort of sweet fermented garlic (and they added sugar to the broth). Thankfully I had already enjoyed a free burrito bowl dinner at the hostel. This is
why I don't like going out to eat at "nice" places: quality and quantity of restaurant
food is almost never correlated with the prices on the menu. The best meals I
have had when traveling have been unassuming, hole-in-the-wall neighborhood
joints where blue collar folks sit at counters shooting the shit over
lunch. My #2 rule of traveling (after “Ride Public Transit”) is never, ever try
to seek out a “nice, authentic X meal” where X is things like “Chinese”, “seafood”, “BBQ” etc.
Wednesday morning I go on an excellent run throughout the
city: I start at my Airbnb in the “Tenderloin” neighborhood (a very unfortunate
campground for San Francisco’s homeless population – I have witnessed
homelessness throughout my life, but I have never seen humanure on a
sidewalk…), and then quickly make my way through the financial district to a
series of piers just north of the Bay Bridge where folks are boarding a ferry to cross the bay. I run along
the bay until I catch a glimpse of the iconic Golden Gate Bridge through the
thick fog. In contrast to a couple of wise, trusty, world-traveling relatives, I
love visiting cliché, touristy things in real life! We have all seen photos of
the Golden Gate Bridge, but seeing the thing with
my own eyes is impressive. I run to the base of the bridge, turn around, realize
my legs are tired, and then hop on a bus back to the Airbnb.
While walking from the Airbnb back in the direction of the
bridge to meet up with some colleagues, I grab a few cups of coffee at corner
stores. Cheap, super tasty, and really positive interactions with store owners.
As with food, coffee experiences seem to follow a bizarre negative relationship
with dollars spent. The more one spends, the lower the quality and quantity. We
had planned to rent bikes to ride over the bridge, but steady rain complicates
the day. We Uber over the bridge to Marin County, eat clam chowder, and then make our way over to the “Marin
Headlands,” a super special place. I wander around the foggy beach, climb on rocks, try to photograph anemones in between waves, and watch tiny crabs in tide pools.
As night falls, we realize none of us has cellular data service
to order an Uber back across the bridge. We walk to the visitor center,
where one companion has enough cell service to call a friend to order an Uber. While this is taking place, we witness an eerie scene. A woman driving
slowly in a Prius comes down the road, stopping every hundred yards or so, whistling
loud and high into the foggy twilight. Around this time, a nearby foghorn starts
sounding every few minutes. The “Marin Headlands” are dotted with many old fort
buildings, some of which appear to be abandoned, others of which appear to be
occupied. After much whistling, the Prius woman drives off, and then returns a
few minutes later, parks next to an abandoned-looking fort building, and throws
2-3 white bags onto the awning above the doorway. A second woman holding an
umbrella walks from behind this building to another nearby fort building, which
appears to be occupied. Umbrella woman and Prius woman do not acknowledge each
other. After another couple whistles, Prius woman drives away.
Thursday I take the subway to the Haight-Ashbury district,
which feels like an obligatory pilgrimage. The neighborhood is elegant,
full of the classic San Francisco architecture I first saw in “Full House.” I
am not particularly impressed with Haight street itself, but I grab a coffee and
watch hungover-looking folks stroll by. Finishing the coffee, I walk into Golden
Gate Park, pop in my headphones, and stroll through around three miles of park
to the beach. I grab a free cup of coffee at a gas station (because they are
cash only, and I was caught off-guard). Another foggy day, I watch seagulls
dipping and diving in the surf and take in giant piles of kelp that had washed
onshore. I make my way towards Land’s End, easily the highlight of the trip. I ogle
waves breaking on rocky cliffs and misty forests of exotic Chilean-looking
trees, before arriving at China Beach. Here I decide I must see the
iconic “Painted Ladies,” a postcard series of colorful houses on the edge of Alamo
Square Park in the Lower Haight / Divisadero area. I take the bus over there
and meet a friend at a Mexican restaurant called “El Rancho Grande.” In
addition to an excellent burrito bowl, they offer a free salsa bar with just
about any salsa one could want, and many other garnishes like radishes,
zucchini, and fried onions. In keeping with the trend, the best food experience
of the trip is the cheapest ($9). My buddy and I check out the park, and then I
head to the sunset district to meet up with a Fulbright colleague for coffee. After
grabbing a cup, we stroll along yet another foggy beach.
I will never choose to live in or near San Francisco! As
much as I love the climate and culture, the high price of rent simply does not
correspond to quality of life. Most of the living spaces I experienced were
like the run-down, moldy apartment I briefly occupied in Minneapolis’ Phillips
neighborhood, at 3-5x the price. The inequality was nausea-inducing: a
photographer could make a career by capturing the sheer contrasts between tech-humans
eating at upscale restaurants and the folks panhandling outside. I have zero
solutions to offer, but the level of inequality I witnessed during the ~84
hours I was in San Francisco was comparable to Venezuela or
Chile. California is ill.
When I come back to Colorado, I promptly move to Fraser, mere
miles from Winter Park, one of the best ski resorts in Colorado and perhaps the
United States. After moving in and skiing the resort for a couple days, I join some
friends on a hut trip near Leadville. The ski to the hut is nothing special, much
of it on snowmobile trails (ew), but a friend and I spend the next couple
mornings skinning up a hill above the hut and making some safe, but
satisfying turns back to the hut.
Upon returning from the hut trip, I spend Christmas on my
own! Despite the stigma associated with spending Christmas with oneself, I have
a great day skinning and skiing at the resort. At the time of writing, I have skied 12 days in-bounds this
season! (That is, not counting the days skiing near the backcountry hut). Yesterday
was easily the best. There was ~4-6” of fresh powder from the night before, and
the snow continued to fall all morning. A former lab mate and I skied knee-deep
moguls in the wild Eagle Wind territory of Winter Park.
I have been cooking on the vegetarian end of my Bird-Diet spectrum: I recently came into a free 25-lb. bag of brown rice flour, and purchased 25-lb. bags of black beans and amaranth. During the ski season, I go through so many calories every day that inflammatory grain-based foods don't seem to have time to do any damage...
If there has been one theme of 2019, it has been learning how to indulge in the right ways! Sometime in the winter or spring, I realized my time in Colorado was likely coming to an end. I worried that I would move away and regret passing up adventures because I did not own a vehicle. So I bought a truck! The past six months have truly been some of my best, freest times of my life!
I have been cooking on the vegetarian end of my Bird-Diet spectrum: I recently came into a free 25-lb. bag of brown rice flour, and purchased 25-lb. bags of black beans and amaranth. During the ski season, I go through so many calories every day that inflammatory grain-based foods don't seem to have time to do any damage...
If there has been one theme of 2019, it has been learning how to indulge in the right ways! Sometime in the winter or spring, I realized my time in Colorado was likely coming to an end. I worried that I would move away and regret passing up adventures because I did not own a vehicle. So I bought a truck! The past six months have truly been some of my best, freest times of my life!
So Mick, what’s next for you? Making music videos in Los
Angeles! Fulfilling my lifelong dream of becoming a cabana boy! Brewing chai
and fixing bottom brackets! No, no, no, I’ve been applying to a whole bunch of
jobs I am probably over-qualified for. I recently applied for what has become
my dream job: the Pacific Northwest National Lab is hiring a “Communications
Professional” to tailor / market / adapt folks’ science to different scientific
and non-scientific audiences. If there is one notion that’s been rattling
around in my brain for a while now, it’s frustration at how much the earth
science community botched the “climate change rollout.” The tired idea that “scientists
just need to communicate results more” continues to resurface in many circles,
despite the fact that our current predicament is mostly related to scientists over-communicating
in the wrong ways. The role of scientist has always been to objectively share
the findings of research, not to preach to humanity that certain problems
deserve immediate policy responses. When scientists step out of this role, large
segments of society lose faith in the scientific process. We will not convince folks of the value of knowledge by beating them over the head with it. The cultish, religious way that folks talk about climate change "believers" and "deniers" makes it quite clear that we have failed. I remain unconvinced
that the physical sciences have much to offer a civilization whose environmental
problems are fundamentally psychological, interpersonal, moral, and spiritual. We
are confronted not by a lack of knowledge, but by a lack of will.
No comments:
Post a Comment