1797 miles later ...
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Dad and I finally finished the trek into Berkeley. Whew! It was a hell of a trip, but Dad's a trooper, and I hear that as soon as he got home, he was anxious to put more hours in the driver's seat going back and forth to Dillon. He loves driving, and said that he was excited to have been able to see the California countryside. Just south of LA, we crossed an area absolutely covered in giant wind turbines (the kind used to generate power). It was difficult to photograph a nice panoramic shot of them, but imagine going up I-70 and seeing them on every surface of every hill. There were thousands upon thousands of them.
I imagine that when an alien civilization studies us in 3000 years, they will assume we worshiped some tall, thin god with three rotating arms. Anyway, a few miles later and we were in LA proper. Yes, the traffic sucked.
The best part about LA was our hotel room. The beds were SO posh, and we zonked out for like 10 hours. Merlin got a lot of play time once we smuggled him inside. However, LA was less welcoming of Merlin than were some other cities, and he was evicted when I tried to bring him in for breakfast the next morning.
The next morning, we hunkered back in for the last leg. Seven hours of uneventful driving later, we made it.
Completely spent, but very happy to be home. The shirt says it all.
The next morning, Dad drove the moving truck one last time to the new apartment, where my new roommate Leif (pronounced "life") and two of his friends visiting from Germany (both named Martin) sprang into action to help us unload. They were a HUGE help, and reduced the Arizona load time of 3-1/2 hours to a measly 40 minutes. They did it all without being asked, and gave up their vacation time to help us. It was awesome. To thank them, Dad took us all out for lunch at a nice local place Leif recommended.
The place is ostensibly a french joint, so what's with the tiki umbrellas?
No pictures of the apartment for now, because with the former tenant still living here until the 11th, the place is littered with boxes and malplaced furniture. What you can see are some pictures of the famous hills of Berkeley. I went for a bike ride on Thursday, and started out going straight to those hills.
Not a great shot by any means, but stay tuned. There will be more rides in the future.
On the way up, I spotted another rider, and wanted to catch up to him to chat about good rides in the area. As he heard me approaching, he turned and said, "you must be in training." The guy looked to be in his early fifties, but as we chatted, he told me he was having a birthday next month, and would turn 64! "Wow!" I said, "you can break out the old Beatles tune." He replied, "Actually, that's the song my wife and I played as the recessional to our wedding." No joke! The guy was really friendly, and it turns out his name is Nick too. Coincidence, or providence? He talked to me about his wife a bit, and I was in awe of the very close and loving relationship he described. It reminded me of Mom and Dad. At the end of our ride, I asked what I do of all my portrait subjects: give me an action pose. He promptly complied:
Sixty-three years old, and still biking strong. Right on.
After descending the hills, I crossed back into Berkeley proper, which is a very collegy town. The streets are fairly busy, but they're built to accomodate cyclists.
Many of the minor streets are called "Bicycle Boulevards" because every block or two, there is a blockade that stops cars from one side. A motorist would have to go around the block in order to get to the other side. Therefore, although they are accessible to cars the whole way, they are useless as a thoroughfare. The only car traffic they get are residents of that particular block, cutting down on car traffic, opening the way for more cyclists. Hoo-rah.
Stay tuned for more, dear readers. I love you all.
I imagine that when an alien civilization studies us in 3000 years, they will assume we worshiped some tall, thin god with three rotating arms. Anyway, a few miles later and we were in LA proper. Yes, the traffic sucked.
The best part about LA was our hotel room. The beds were SO posh, and we zonked out for like 10 hours. Merlin got a lot of play time once we smuggled him inside. However, LA was less welcoming of Merlin than were some other cities, and he was evicted when I tried to bring him in for breakfast the next morning.
The next morning, we hunkered back in for the last leg. Seven hours of uneventful driving later, we made it.
Completely spent, but very happy to be home. The shirt says it all.
The next morning, Dad drove the moving truck one last time to the new apartment, where my new roommate Leif (pronounced "life") and two of his friends visiting from Germany (both named Martin) sprang into action to help us unload. They were a HUGE help, and reduced the Arizona load time of 3-1/2 hours to a measly 40 minutes. They did it all without being asked, and gave up their vacation time to help us. It was awesome. To thank them, Dad took us all out for lunch at a nice local place Leif recommended.
The place is ostensibly a french joint, so what's with the tiki umbrellas?
No pictures of the apartment for now, because with the former tenant still living here until the 11th, the place is littered with boxes and malplaced furniture. What you can see are some pictures of the famous hills of Berkeley. I went for a bike ride on Thursday, and started out going straight to those hills.
Not a great shot by any means, but stay tuned. There will be more rides in the future.
On the way up, I spotted another rider, and wanted to catch up to him to chat about good rides in the area. As he heard me approaching, he turned and said, "you must be in training." The guy looked to be in his early fifties, but as we chatted, he told me he was having a birthday next month, and would turn 64! "Wow!" I said, "you can break out the old Beatles tune." He replied, "Actually, that's the song my wife and I played as the recessional to our wedding." No joke! The guy was really friendly, and it turns out his name is Nick too. Coincidence, or providence? He talked to me about his wife a bit, and I was in awe of the very close and loving relationship he described. It reminded me of Mom and Dad. At the end of our ride, I asked what I do of all my portrait subjects: give me an action pose. He promptly complied:
Sixty-three years old, and still biking strong. Right on.
After descending the hills, I crossed back into Berkeley proper, which is a very collegy town. The streets are fairly busy, but they're built to accomodate cyclists.
Many of the minor streets are called "Bicycle Boulevards" because every block or two, there is a blockade that stops cars from one side. A motorist would have to go around the block in order to get to the other side. Therefore, although they are accessible to cars the whole way, they are useless as a thoroughfare. The only car traffic they get are residents of that particular block, cutting down on car traffic, opening the way for more cyclists. Hoo-rah.
Stay tuned for more, dear readers. I love you all.
posted by Nick at 10:49 AM
1 Comments:
Congratulations on your arrival! Sounds like you're doing great already. Your outgoing and charismatic nature will ensure you an easy transition into friends and fun in your new home. We miss you terribly, but are very proud of you and look forward to more updates on your new life in CA.
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