Living Up to the Stereotype

In the same way that the skies in New Mexico were huge and the air clear, in the same way that the streets of New Orleans felt alive with music, my experience of California is living up to the stereotype I have of this place in my head. The West Coast: where people lie around in the sun relaxing the day away.

I’m staying near Lake Merritt in Oakland, and no matter my intention for the day, how far I plan on wandering, it seems that before long I find myself lying in the grass, soaking up the sun, and idly wondering what direction the latest wave of the aroma of marijuana is coming from.

These grassy spots that lure me away from my plans, as if I’ve been magnetized and there’s a large deposit of iron hiding just under their soft green surfaces speckled with clover and tiny daisies, are never unpopulated. I scribbled the first draft of this post in a notebook in Peace Park in Berkeley–that’s another thing about this place, there is an abundance of spaces to be outdoors in. When I described the park I’d spent the afternoon lying in to friends, they told me I’d been at People’s Park; but I hadn’t. There just happen to be two public parks so close to each other as to be confused for one another.

Anyway, as I drafted this post in a spot of sunshine, sharing the space with me were: two kids playing frisbee; at least three groups of students–one discussing games about power dynamics; an old man lying on his back with his knees in the air and a ballcap over his eyes, fast asleep; a kid on a scooter that rode around the park rather regularly with music blaring from some small device.

I’m sure there are other things that happen around that park. There are probably people who stay inside. It’s hard to imagine it though.

There seem to be farmer’s markets almost daily here, each neighborhood getting their own day of the week. Why shop inside when the weather is like this? Why buy produce that spent the last few days under florescent lights, and the days before that in a truck, when you can eat something that was picked yesterday?

People are better out doors, in the sunshine, without anything to compartmentalize them. As I wrote, one frisbee player, and then another joined the two already engaged in the game. And even if one of them talked too much, turning his self-deprecation into self-centered, needy behavior it was nice to see these strangers interact with such ease. I fell asleep despite the shadow of the frisbee which occasionally whizzed over my head and the players were gone when I woke up. Now there was the practicing dance troupe to watch, one of whom was on crutches, but moved with as much surety as her compatriots.

This tendency to live outside isn’t isolated to the Bay Area, although the outdoors has been approached differently in the Californian cities I’ve stayed in. In San Diego–where the big mall downtown doesn’t have a roof–I spent a lot of time on beaches. Just outside of Los Angeles we wandered through an expansive botanical garden. In Santa Cruz people flocked to the boardwalk in numbers that were almost overwhelming. In San Francisco we sat at the top of Dolores Park on 4/20, staring down at the city and the pockets of people packed so close they almost became a crowd.

It seems we only go indoors to watch movies. The rest of the time when we hang out it’s on porches, in backyards, perched on rooftops.