February Update
You are likely reading this while I rest briefly at home from a fierce jetlag, mere days before my next travel. Life wont return to normal until much later in March, if at all—I’m not sure I want it to!
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In February, I did a thing that only started to make sense since I fully geared up with my own equipment last year: I traveled around and tried many ski resorts, one or two days at a time.
The month hadn’t started with joy: a stomach bug had killed any plans I had for the last days before my departure. Gratefully, I was fully recovered by the time I arrived in Salt Lake City, Utah.
I stayed there for about ten days. From my SLC base, I headed out to Brighton, Snowbasin and Solitude in the canyons nearby. I also went on a two-day excursion to Colorado, where I also went to a small, remote resort called Ski Cooper.
My itinerary brought me next to Berkeley, California (across the bay from San Francisco), where I spent a bit less than a week. From there, I also traveled two days to Lake Tahoe to try out Heavenly.
It was snowing heavily during my day on Brighton mountain. The snow was delightfully fresh, but the visibility dreadfully limited. I was very tired at the end of the day. I did meet a few strangers who gave me good recommendations about other places to be.
Did you know? Ski Cooper used to be a military training camp. It was converted to a public resort in the 1970s. The snow was crisp and dry but not icy. Very sunny and very cold too.
The Heavenly resort is set up on the mountain facing Lake Tahoe directly. On clear days, like this one, the view is breathtaking.
As an aside, all the days I spent on the slopes in Utah were cloudy, with near-constant snowfall. A lot of fresh snow fell every day, which meant ideal—albeit technically difficult—conditions for snowboarding. The constant clouds and snowfall however meant limited visibility, and limited opportunity for great sights. As a result, most of my retained memories relate to the new confidence I built from not seeing where I was leading. I might want to go back to truly understand the landscape.
In comparison, my snow days in Colorado and California were mostly sunny with clear—albeit very cold—skies. The snow was crisp yet not icy. I also spent much more time there than I ever did before in very close proximity to trees. This also led to a confidence booster and a skill upgrade.
While my overall itinerary was optimized for spending time on my own, I was graced with the company of old and new friends for a few days in each destination. Like always, I was happy to share my snow time with good folk, and I continuously wish our lives aligned to do more of that each year. (I have not been disciplined at taking pictures. The following is only a subset of my encounters.)
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Besides physical exercise, this travel also had a focus on contemplation and meditation.
In Colorado, I spent a full day talking and thinking about music, as well as practicing a bit. It made me long for bringing an instrument back in my home, and I will likely schedule that project for later in spring.
I played with my feet on a keyboard for the first time!
In Berkeley and San Francisco, I spent unplanned time hiking, both slightly outside of the urban environment (Tilden Regional Park) and inside the city (Golden Gate Park). I also visited both the de Young museum and the botanic garden there. Unstructured, medium-length hikes surrounded by trees and art provide me with the best environment for meditation, lateral thinking, and EMDR healing. This part of my stay transformed me (more on this below).
Tilden Regional Park is so quiet that deer didn’t seem fazed by my presence nearby.
I laid down to admire the redwoods from below. This was my favorite feature from the Regional Parks Botanic Garden.
Still February, and yet some trees believe it’s spring already. California climate amazes.
The SF Botanical Garden is very proud of its magnolia collection. They bloom earlier than the rest, and magnificently.
I made a small detour through the Castro neighborhood in SF. It is supposed to be a “gay mecca” but I found it underwhelming. Nearly all of it is now dedicated to overpriced stores and restaurants. “Never meet your heroes” applies here.
One thing the Castro has to redeem itself is magnificent views on its tram routes. I wish for such elegant public transportation in more places in the US.
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After San Francisco, I headed south to San Diego.
Now is a good time to contextualize what follows: this entire travel, from my arrival in Salt Lake up to my return home, was largely unplanned. With the exception of the two half days I spent in Boulder (CO), all the destinations were places I hadn’t been before. The only thing I had arranged beforehand, besides flights, was car rentals and various accommodation plans, some of them not even fully confirmed. What needed to be arranged ahead of time was arranged each time a few days before; the rest was decided on the day itself, and I did not look up or research anything.
The overall idea was to test experimentally an idea I formed a few months ago: that I have built enough self-soothing skills to avoid anxiety about the unknown; and that I now had enough creativity and experience to deal with new circumstances on a day-to-day basis.
The parts of my stay in Utah and around San Francisco were an easy version of that experiment: even though the locales were new, the overall structure and routines of a “ski vacation” were well-known. Even the part where I went to explore green stuff to meditate around San Francisco was not very different from previous experiences. To that point, the experiment was successful, but it was not a comprehensive test.
Heading to San Diego, in comparison, was a little wild. I knew nothing of South California, I had no preconceived notions of San Diego, and I generally dislike hot and deserty weather. The only reason I had for choosing that destination was that it was the furthest I could get away from home on the American continent without having to learn Spanish to explore.
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My home base in SD was a converted garage not far from Balboa Park. After some local exploration, I chatted with random strangers and asked for their opinions of what to see or experience. This loosely guided the rest of my visit.
I found the world-famous, world-largest San Diego Zoo somewhat underwhelming. I admired the optimizations towards child entertainment, but the animals were largely invisible. (Maybe expectedly? I was visiting in the middle of the day. Maybe they were eating or resting hidden.)
My sharpest memory came from this bonobo ape napping behind the window. Her position and skin texture, as well as her relaxed gaze towards the other restless ape nearby, felt oddly relatable.
Walking through the Mission Beach and La Jolla neighborhoods revealed a wealthy, affluent coastal urban energy that reminded me of the French Riviera. I was troubled yet impressed by the tragic patriotism celebrated by the Soledad monument to veterans. Coronado Island also revealed an atmosphere of ostentatious wealth, although its intriguing history as a town architected from the start around tourism uniquely separates it from all my other experiences of California.
The “Old Town” open air museum was a relatively disappointing window into the past (most of its artifacts—even its trees—were brought or rebuilt later according to fabricated stories); but intriguing in how it celebrated its peak population of ~600 (at the time) while remaining completely silent on the life and culture of the thousands of natives who lived in the plains nearby.
One thing I would likely not find on the French Riviera is hordes of seals and sea lions lounging on the beach, unfazed by the close proximity of equally dense hordes of tourists.
The famed “Victorian” hotel on the island was sadly mostly covered with scaffolding, for renovations. It was probably the first time I dipped my feet in the Pacific since I lived in Australia, more than thirty years ago.
Despite its large size and diverse population, San Diego’s vibes have a distinct military tint. The near constant visual and auditory presence of fighter jets in training announce the Navy’s presence right away. Businesses loudly advertise their preferential treatment of soldiers and veterans, and I’ve never before experienced such a high concentration of military “DL” men cruising online after work hours.
Much hiking happened in the area as well. Walking around Torrey Pines and Black Beach felt eerie, nearly liminal. The absolute highlight of my stay was the view above Miramar Reservoir, from Lake View Park. I also accompanied a friend on a steeper—yet shorter—hike on nearby mount Woodson, to bewonder the so-called “potato chip rock” and the equally impressive radio/TV antenna complex set up on the summit.
San Diego would be an arid and miserable town if not for its multiple water reservoirs. Fauna and flora wonders in SoCal are only possible thanks to human water management.
This surprisingly eroded rock is the main attraction of this short and demanding hike.
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The bottom line: San Diego is quite unlike any other place I’ve visited before. It has some quirky majesty but little American loudness. It does not appear as dysfunctionally managed as other US places I’ve seen. The climate and views are certainly appealing. Would I want to visit again as a tourist? Probably not. Would I come to visit friends? Come for a conference? Bring other friends from abroad to explore the area further? Most definitely, and I would probably even enjoy it.
But I was happy to come back home too. I missed our clouds.
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Part of what makes California so special is its sunsets. I wish ours were so diverse and magical.
The sunset over the SF bay is probably what gave the Golden Gate its name.
Usually, the end of a snowboard day feels mournful: as if I was a puppy and someone took my toy away. The sunset in front of the car during the drive back sweetens the situation greatly.
SD’s coast becomes cloudy at the end of the day in February. The cloud layer opens up over the horizon, giving us a stripe of sun.
While walking on the hill, however, we are in the middle of a cloud. Only the change in lightness of the ambient gray tells us when the sunset occurs.
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As usual, books were read while I traveled around, and many other things were learned from other interstitial reading. There is also much happening in the world currently and certain decisions to be made accordingly.
A lot of this was on my mind during my travels, albeit perhaps not as much as since last Friday.
That said, I feel that these topics are ill-fitting for this write-up. I will share more on that later.
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Meanwhile, as I alluded to earlier, this period was transformative. In the relative safety of coastal calm and open air, I carefully lifted the lid I had placed on certain old situational fears and anxieties. This led me to discover they were simply not there anymore. For many years, I had tuned certain strategic decisions on how to organize my life and routines based on assumptions about how to avoid re-triggering past pains. Then, somehow, sometime through the past few years, the wounds healed and the last embers of past hurt finally extinguished. How long ago did this happen? Should I regret not exploring this earlier? I am pretty sure some of these systems were still wounded around 2023, so not much time was actually wasted.
What comes next? I am punting on this train of thought until the end of my vacation, when I come back from Austria next week.