Respice Adspice Prospice

Quentin and I have lived in Los Angeles for about a year and a half without a car. When we met in Chicago, neither of us had ever owned a car. We certainly didn't need one there, or in Seoul where we lived after that, or in Claremont, CA, where we lived with Q's folks for about a year and a half after that. In Claremont, I took the Metrolink train to work in downtown Los Angeles, and borrowed the in-laws' car for weekend outings. When I got a job in Westchester (near LAX), Q and I moved to Venice Beach and decided, given it had always been our MO, not to get a car then either. We thought we would give it a go for a few months, a year, two years, and see how it treated us. It's been about a year and a half, and so far so good.

I start with this brief history by way of saying that this was never some radical "we WILL NOT own a car" stance for us, but rather a lazy-in-its-own-way resistance to having to think about and pay for "car shit." We are not road warriors. We are not staunch anti-car-ites. We just seem to like to live this way: moving our bodies a lot more than we would otherwise to get to where we need to be, daily. And living in a slightly more resourceful, creative, and worn out physical state than I believe we would otherwise. I think it comes down to this: nothing is more of a soul kill than sitting in traffic. NOTHING. I'll take a sore butt and legs any day.

Here, a few tidbits about how we do it/when we do it/where we do it:

THE BIKES & GEAR
My bike is a piece of crap. It probably retails for about $120. It is a hybrid Schwinn - a bike Quentin's Mom bought a few years ago and gave to me when we moved to West LA. It is heavy as hell, but it is sturdy, shock resistant, and utterly unattractive to bike thieves. Q's bike is a tad bit higher end, a hybrid too with a lighter frame - and the second bike he's ridden in LA because his first was stolen out of our gated courtyard about a year ago. Other than the bikes, we have little gear. We always wear helmets. I wear gloves. We use lights after dark.

THE COMMUTE
I bike to work 2-3 days a week on average, and bike home from work most days. The trek to work includes a short but steep climb at the end, as Loyola Marymount University where I work is situated on a bluff near the Pacific. So on mornings I don't want to face the climb and arrive at work drenched in sweat, I'll bike about a mile to Pacific Coast Highway and stick my bike on the bus there. Some days I leave the bike behind entirely and take the bus all the way, but there is a transfer involved and it takes about twice as long. I usually just haul my work clothes in my backpack and grab a "sink shower" and change in the bathroom at work. My coworkers seemed kind of weirded out by this at first, but they've adjusted. On days where I need to be a bit more presentable, I'll bike to the University gym and shower and change there. Very occasionally I'll run to or from work. It's about a 4.75 mile journey, longer if one takes the scenic route along the Pacific.

ZIPCAR
We have access to the car sharing service ZipCar at LMU, and we rent a car every couple of weeks for a few hours, or sometimes for a full 24 hour period. It's handy for things like appointments, grocery runs, or special occasion outings.

VISITING THE IN-LAWS
Getting out to Claremont involves biking to the new Expo Line Metro stop in Culver City (super exciting that the line now extends so far west - it's supposed to reach Santa Monica by 2016) or all the way downtown to Union Station and then putting our bikes on the Metrolink train.

THE CART
There are supermarkets along my commute route, so almost daily on the way to and/or from work I will stop to pick up a few items for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. However, for large-ish grocery runs without a car, I use a SERIOUSLY DORKY little cart that I bought at Ross for about $15. It's meant for carrying drinks and gear to the beach. True to the Venice vibe, it's got, like, multi-colored peace signs painted all over it. Quentin is horribly embarrassed by it, so he has yet to join me when I get groceries by this method. It takes about 15-20 minutes to walk up to the nearest supermarket, where I can cram a surprising amount of food in the thing. Inevitably I get a "are you going to fit it all in THAT?" look from the cashier, but I take to self-bagging and usually get it all in. I've never been one to give a shit about looking like a dork, so that's one chore that I am willing to take on solo. :)

PARTY TIME
So this is all sounding well and good for the day to day, you say, but what about when one wants to go further afield and enjoy other parts of the city? Well, that's when things start to get a bit more, um, hardcore. James Brasuell, whom most of you probably remember from MAPH, is one of our dearest friends in Los Angeles. Often his girlfriend hosts parties at her place in Silver Lake - and often we bike. The parties can be fairly drawn out in themselves, but when you throw on an hour and a half bike ride each way - and consider that the ride home usually starts at about 3:00 in the morning, after about 8 beers - Silver Lake party evenings take on an even more epic character. We are known in James' circle as "those people who biked here from Venice." Other fun destinations we'll often bike over an hour to reach include the Silent Movie Theatre on Fairfax, downtown Los Angeles, and Manhattan Beach. When Melissa visited Los Angeles, we biked to meet her in Beverly Hills. Fun spots closer to home include Santa Monica (super close, tons of movie theatres) and Playa del Rey (funky little beach community, great for happy hour beers on a Friday afternoon).

The real point of this post is: no need to rent a car to come visit us in Los Angeles! You're all welcome anytime - although we can't put you up because we sleep on the floor of our studio apartment. Maybe I'll blog on that life choice next time. ;) Until then, happy trails.

blogging

I've never had a blog because I don't ever think I'm interesting enough, but knowing that I now have a captive audience -- of four -- really takes the pressure off.

Working on the assumption that we are all self-absorbed, the idea that people find other people interesting is quite amazing. The idea that people could find me interesting is absolutely mind blowing.

So I will endeavour -- ignoring that red dotted line under my British spelling -- to write about me, or at least some of my random thoughts, which may also be your random thoughts, and so, I wouldn't be talking about me per se, but hopefully about you too.



It just so happens this week, I was speaking to a bunch of bloggers and blogger agents. Yes, bloggers now have agents, just like writers and actors.


I kept thinking about the Kardashianisation of the world, and how people gain a following just by being (chuck, I'm not being academic, but you may jump in here with recommended readings on being if you wish).  It's all at once deplorable and admirable. I'm completely in two minds about it.

On the one hand, I am totally against blogs which have sponsored content and don't indicate that it is sponsored. That's just dishonest.


On the other hand, if a blogger practices full disclosure and can convince someone else that everything about their life is interesting, including that sponsored nose jobs, pregnancy test kit, and restaurant meal. Then kudos to them!
Because what they have essentially done is beat the system. Their readers don't care that something is sponsored, the fact that the blogger is willing to use that product or visit that eatery is all that matters.

And if the blogger takes it a step further and posts a picture of themselves with a product without indicating it is sponsored (coz really, who is going to caption a photo: me and my sponsored Prada bad) and people get excited about it, then you have reached the level of ultimate celebrity.
You can do no wrong.


If you have reached that level, you've probably worked hard at being interesting, and marketed yourself well, but it's going to take some time to convince people that being able to market yourself, is, like singing, dancing and writing well, talent in itself.

Hamburg, meine Perle

Hi everybody,

Greetings from (ahem) the "schönste Stadt der Welt": Hamburg, Germany. One thing I love about this "most beautiful city in the world" is the hanseatic pride that can be felt here, which is by no means unfounded. Hamburg's idyllic streets lined with white-washed art deco residences ranging from austere to elaborate in decoration seem as though they were created only to complement its lush greenery. The mild climate here hosts robust, dark green foliage, which can be found in every corner of the city (although color can be seen for about six weeks per year during what they call "summer" here).

Hamburg is indeed "Garden City" in the extreme with 8% of the independent city-state's land under natural protection, comprising an extensive park system integrated into the city, as well as around 230,000 trees along the streets. NABU's Hamburg chapter (the natural protection agency) offers an extensive public education program including guided bird-watching tours and other environmental awareness programs as well as opportunities for residents to get involved to help the city beautiful remain beautiful. I'm hoping to get involved with NABU at some point, but for one reason or another, haven't managed to...

The Stadtpark in Spring: a five-minute walk from my apartment

In probably more ways than I realize, my life here is better than ever: I've found quite a few friends here, learned the language, joined a nice gym, feel increasingly integrated in my little community. I chat with shopkeepers in the area (in a city where people are known for being distant), know where the good restaurants and movie theaters are, have a few favorite spots and dozens more on my list to explore. I finally bought a scarf supporting my husband Simon's home soccer team (one of two in the city). Hamburg is indeed my ideal city. I've heard many times before that "Hamburg is a big city that feels like a village", and I appreciate that.

However, almost two years after my "official" move to this lovely place and hundreds of little learning experiences, both cultural and personal, which have enabled me to feel happy and comfortable in my new hometown, I still feel like I have a long way to go. I get out, but not nearly enough. I have seedlings of ideas of where I want to take my career, but haven't connected with the right people to help me grow them (or found a way to do it myself). I've learned from my attempts at establishing a business (still active, but could be more) and working full-time here (didn't quite work out as I thought it would). Next month I will get my English teaching certificate and will try something completely new.

We live close to the "Stadtpark" (City Park), and sometimes I feel like walking through this park is my saving grace. When Simon and I go together, it seems that we can more clearly communicate than anywhere else. Perhaps the physical space of the park's meadow away from the distractions at home clears a space in our brains, making way for clearer thinking. In the Stadtpark, I feel progress. I should go there more often.

I hope that journaling here will inspire me to experience more and learn more about this lovely city, so that I can share with all of you.

Much love und ganz liebe Grüße!

Eure Jodi

It's on...

...wait, is this thing on?

I'm currently in my office in Memphis, needing a break from reading Hawthorne, waiting for my next class, so I'm following through on this project to establish a blog space for our crazy little collective.

We seem to have lost Jeff and Bridget (Brigitte?  Biridigitite?) who were, with all due respect, the least crazy members, in my opinion.

For snoops, eavesdroppers, over-the-shoulder-reading significant others (viz. Simon), the collective in questions is the Dinner Group.  Many other groups living in the International House at the University of Chicago in the 2004-2005 academic year routinely ate dinner together, but only one was awesome enough to be titled, simply, The Dinner Group.  (Hint: it was the same one that attracted the attention of at least one budding anthropologist.)

The group was:
Myself (Chuck), preparer of Kick Butt Spaghetti and other dishes leaving no surprise as to the source of his weight problem.
McKenzie (I'll leave it up to the others to remind us of their 'signature' dishes...)
Jeff
Stevie
Melissa
Ellen
Bridget

There were other interlocutors but these above were us.  Now we live on three continents, and I would say, still manage to see each other quite frequently.

I leave it there for now, mainly so I can monkey with the blog layout!

~Chuck