Brown buildings and bicycles

There's not as much time for writing now that classes have started.  I'm not sure what it is, whether the long break since I was last at school or the new country or the different schooling system, but I'm actually doing my work for once.  And the reading, like, on time.  Could also be a strategic move considering I'm doing five classes, which is a high course load even for people not adjusting to a new place (and looking for work).  We'll see how this ends up; with me dying?  Possibly.  

I'm getting up at seven every morning now, for my Spanish class at eight.  The sun gets in my eyes as I cycle along the bike lanes that run through the university housing into campus.  The buildings here are all modern and brown, and the mountains to the north are blue, darker against the sky.  The view from the eighth floor of the library is a point of pride; you've got a panoramic view of the mountains and ocean and the whole of Isla Vista as you study, and at sunset the light strikes all the books and makes them golden.  

I can tell it's autumn, or what passes for autumn in California.  There are still days, like today, when it's too hot to sit in the sun for long.  Then you have to find a bench helpfully positioned under one of the many trees on campus, most likely close to a green collegiate lawn, and sit in the shade.  Then, unfortunately, you find it's slightly too cold and you have to move back, where you lose patience for reading and fall asleep.  Just me?  We had rain on Saturday morning, that was kind of exciting.  Apparently, if it rains on a school day, no one goes to class.  Also, no one attends the day before Thanksgiving, and certainly most seats will be empty on the Monday in November just before Veteran's Day on the Tuesday.  I've been following this schedule with care and wide eyes in case I should innocently go to school when I'm supposed to.  I've also heard that professors use these student-initiated holidays to give passwords to the students that do attend to use on the final exam.

Everything I heard about Santa Barbara being a party school has been confirmed.  Del Playa Drive, the street next to the ocean, packs out on Friday night.  Most of Isla Vista becomes unofficially pedestrianized.  The police hang around just waiting for someone to fall off, out of, into or over something.  I haven't attended any parties yet; I'm kind of biding my time, I guess.  Things at the moment are just kind of mellow (or 'chill') as they say.  Maybe for my 21st birthday next week I'll have a picnic out at the beach.

I think this place is changing me.  I now willingly exercise.  I will return to New Zealand all blond and tan and giggly.