Gritty City

I'm back in the city today, hanging in the old nabe, but for some reason it doesn't seem as glamorous as it did just a few months ago. Don't know if it's actually changed, or whether my perceptions of it are different now, but it seems awfully gritty and trashy.

It's still beautiful, though, in a run-down, God-forsaken way. And still prohibitively expensive.

And it's going to be a gorgeous day. When you get to California it's time to take off the long underwear and enjoy the tee-shirt weather.

Tomorrow I'll take a run down the coastline on famous State Route 1, through Santa Cruz, then hang a left through Castroville to the Salinas Valley for a stop in San Miguel, whose beautiful Spanish mission has been closed since late 2003 due to earthquake damage. Maybe it will reopen one day; maybe not. Either way, it's my own personal sacred spot.

Wednesday will find me in Desert Hot Springs.

I left California a little over 90 days ago, and the country has changed perceptibly since then. We are now a scared, angry, and confused people. Nobody knows what will happen to us, but most everyone has a feeling it won't be good. People are hanging on to whatever they have and eyeing the clock with mute apprehension. Katrina, a real-time event, was also a metaphor, and the new government appears to be facing the oncoming tsunami with a series of four-foot dikes.