I was sitting on a couch in L.A. a couple of weeks ago, checking the weather, when I noticed that the relative humidity of L.A. was higher than that of New Orleans. Fully aware of California's desert climate and drought conditions, I took to Google to resolve the confusion.
Apparently, though, even Google can't teach you everything. I read several articles about it. I read multiple sections of said articles out loud to my friend, who very pointedly made clear that neither of us had any idea what the hell the articles were saying.
"The dew point temperature is the temperature at which the air can no longer hold all of its water vapor, and some of the water vapor must condense into liquid water. At 100% relative humidity, the dew point temperature and the air temperature are the same, and clouds or fog can begin to form."
So, the higher the dew point, the more water the air can hold. The more water the air can hold, the more humid it feels.
Why? I have no idea. (Seriously, I still don't get it.)
9. There are Mountain Bikes for a Reason
From time to time, my over-developed sense of determination gets me into trouble. Usually, it comes in handy, but sometimes, it's unnecessarily painful.
Last Tuesday, I biked 16 miles mostly uphill on a beach cruiser. Which is meant for cruising on beaches. Which is not meant for climbing inclines.
According to MapMyRide, I burned 1249 kcal, made an elevation gain of 669 feet, and said the F word at least forty three times.
Next time, I'll take the twenty minute car ride instead, but as everyone keeps telling me, it was probably good for me.
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| Top of the mountain (Cabrillo National Monument) |
8. There is No Word in French for Shallow
The closest it gets approximately translates to "only a little deep." But Californians have shallow on the lock down. Not every resident of the state, of course. I met lots of people who had intelligent things to say and substantial priorities. But, man, spend a couple of days in Pacific Beach, San Diego, and you'll find yourself having purposeful internal conversations about how you view yourself. No, you are not that very tan girl with a magazine-ready body rollerblading by in a bikini. No, you don't want to be that girl, no matter how many people look at her as she rolls past. You have other things going for you. You want to be noticed and valued for something else. You is kind. You is smart. You is important.
7. Shorts are Overrated
During my stay in Quebec, the temperature tended to hover somewhere in the 60s, and it rained a lot in sprinkles and patches. I longed for warmer days where shorts and t-shirts and sunscreen would be comfortable and wise choices.
This morning, I woke up at 9:30am, and the heat index had already passed 102 degrees. I regret every complaint I ever made about the "cold."
6. Avocados are Delicious
I mean, I knew that already, but by the time my stay in California was nearing its end, looking at a menu just meant choosing between dishes that had avocado in them.
Last night, I tried to recreate a salad I'd gotten in Golden Hill (south of Balboa Park) at this place called Counterpoint. Lettuce, beets, toasted quinoa, green goddess dressing, avocado.
This morning, I learned that avocado comes from the aztec word for testicle.
This afternoon, I'm actively trying to block out that knowledge from my memory. Because avocados.
5. Hostels are Not For Me
After a phone call with a friend, I found out that there was a gap in my schedule and I needed a place to stay for one night in San Diego. I looked up last minute deals. I found a hostel in Little Italy for cheap that included breakfast and dinner. I thought, this will be a good experience.
Instead, I spent the whole night on top of a kid-sized bunkbed trying not to move so I wouldn't shake awake the girl sleeping on the bunk beneath me. It was hot. Someone turned the light on in the middle of the night. There was one bathroom for twenty people. Dinner was one piece of crappy pizza, and breakfast was frozen bagels and instant oatmeal. There was no privacy. There was no space.
The people were nice.
4. A Good Teacher is Hard to Find
Great teachers love being teachers. They have fun being teachers. They laugh and make you laugh. They make you want to learn.
I had the pleasure of being part of a class with one such teacher for a week this summer, and I can't say enough about it. I loved being in that class. I woke up every morning excited for that class. When they bumped me up a level, I considered faking regression so I could get moved back to that class. Nothing replaces a great teacher. Nothing.
3. Don't Judge a Book by Your First Date
I spent my first few nights in San Diego in a neighborhood called Pacific Beach. I'd messaged this guy more than a week before to double-check that it was okay and to confirm my platonic intentions, but despite his response, I went to sleep each night in his living room hoping things would be more comfortable the next day and woke up each morning still feeling like I wasn't welcome. We'd spent half a day together in January, and it had gone well enough that we'd even tried to keep it up over long distance for a few weeks. So when I had the opportunity to visit this summer, I just assumed we'd get along. We didn't, not really.
I'm glad I went, though. It sort of burst this mental bubble I'd been carrying around with me for the last six months that I'd be more compatible with the men in other places. I'm not. The men in San Diego and Quebec and everywhere else I went this summer were a lot like the men here at home. I'm not sure whether or not that's a good thing, but either way, it soothes me.
2. There's No Place like Friends
Sacramento is probably a pretty boring place on the whole, but I loved being there because I got to spend 48 hours with my very best friend since elementary school. I'd never live in L.A., but I could've stayed there for weeks if it meant hanging out with my friend and her (very patient) brother. San Diego was a great place to catch up with college friends and adopted family. I love Atlanta and Chattanooga, but mostly I love the people who live there.
And while I have no doubt that Quebec City is a beautiful, wonderful place on its own, there's no doubt in my mind that the people I met there and the friendships I made are what now make the city one of my favorites.
1. New Orleans is Home
I've tossed around the idea for the last year or so of moving somewhere else, of packing up my belongings, renting out my house, and taking a year to live and work somewhere else in the world. California had been on my list of most-likely-places-not-to-freeze-me-out-or-give-me-zika. But after traveling both coasts and even a little piece of Canada, I realize more than ever that home is home is home. You just can't beat the food and the culture and the community.
So, I'm sticking around for the long haul (but God help me, if I ever make it big, I'm buying a summer home somewhere north of here with an average dew point and easy access to avocados).
