Denim shorts in November

I had a shock last week in Spanish class. Possibly it was induced by being in said class at 8am on a Monday morning. Over the weekend, we'd been asked to complete a photocopy sheet that depicted various scenes in Spanish speaking countries in different seasons (Spanish often reminds me of primary school). 'Chile', the third box said. 'Octubre'. It showed some happy people sitting in some mountains eating some food in the middle of some flowers (no sign of the violent revolutionaries that I thought were everywhere in South America). 'Es otoño, y hace buen,' I wrote. 'Los esposos quieren merendar'. (It's autumn and it's nice weather. The couple want to have a picnic.) A girl in my class put her hand up when we read them out. 'Es primavera [spring]', she said. 'The seasons are reversed in the southern hemisphere.'

The seasons are reversed in the southern hemisphere?!

I don't know when October became autumn for me. I don't know when the school year started beginning in September, or when the idea of fires and eggnog at Christmas started sounding good. I don't know when I started saying to people, 'It's so hot for November.' 

Admittedly, this November would be hot by New Zealand standards. When I talk to my mum, and she tells me about how 'warm' it's getting in Wellington, I never have the heart to tell her what the temperature is like here. About how most days, still, people walk around in short sleeves; and yes, it's a little chilly in the shade, but the skies are clear blue. I actually can't remember the last time it rained.

So at the moment, Santa Barbara is winding up to be a combination of a) things that I like right now and b) things that I think I'll end up liking in the future. The weather, the bicycles and the closeness of everything is in the first category. Or like today at the end of lecture, when we picked up our last test papers along the front of the hall; 'They're arranged alphabetically,' the professor said. 'A on the mountain side, Z on the ocean side.' 

Oddly enough, with five classes, I'm the only one I know not screamingly busy at the moment. It's kind of like the eye of the storm; last week was hell, and finals are coming up after Thanksgiving. Oh, Thanksgiving! How exciting! I give thanks for the enthusiasm Americans have for their holidays. I'm using my 'free' time to think about how the NZ dollar is now worth only 53 US cents, and worry about what I'm going to do. And also go out and hear music. I've been charmed to find a music scene that's what I'd term small but healthy. Thriving, even. Hidden in people's living rooms, there are things going on most nights a week. Maybe I've become less critical since I got to the US (my cynicism! No, where is it going? Help!) but I've been impressed by almost everything I've seen thus far. It makes me excited for the future.

Coming soon: three weeks on from the election of Barack Obama, I talk about politics. I avoid dying from finals and share some more information about UCSB. I then ramble about music scenes for a little bit. Watch this space.

More of Mexico, and Montecito burns.

Last weekend was a looong one, making this week short, which is a relief, but also not, because I have much schoolwork to do.  Five European girls and I seized the day given to us so kindly by the Veterans and went south.  I always thought of 'running to Mexico' as a very romantic concept.  It kind of is; there's nothing like an open grey freeway to make you feel like you're going somewhere.  But the actual border crossing with Tijuana is not nearly as windswept and barren as I would like.  I hoped you'd have to take some moth-eaten bus to a desk in the middle of a red sandy desert, with only huge cacti and a barbed wire fence for company.  There would be a little wooden shack with a little wooden desk and a little wooden man with a stamp, and a cardboard sign with an arrow saying 'Mexico'.  

But the largest border crossing in the world (I heard that somewhere, don't quote me) is an altar to sin and depravity, just like Tijuana itself.  It's covered in billboards advertising liquor and Viagra for the duty-free shopper, and fast food joints that have crept over the border.  The crossing itself is resembles the world's most confusing subway station, all grey concrete and inclining ramps.  I did see some dodgy looking men hanging around the overpass to the American side last time I was there, back in September.  Probably they didn't realise how awesomely stereotypical they were being, pursuing their strange ends in the shadows.

So, short summary of another country: ate a lot of food, tried and failed but hopefully improved my Spanish, rejoiced in the dirt and the noise.  Bought some fantastic boots with a lot of language confusion, had a haircut (happily the concept of a 'trim' is familiar to everyone).  Patronised a delicious establishment called Papas and Beer, a chain nightclub in Baja California Norte.  Huge overpriced drinks and the most enthusiastic bumping and grinding I've ever seen; and this whistling concept, where a male employee comes along with a whistle and points at some unsuspecting girl, who he then dances with inappropriately and takes photos with.  THEN he makes her drink this unknown substance, grabs her round the middle, puts his hand over her mouth and jerks her back violently; picks her up, spins her around over his shoulder, then jiggles her upside down.  I'm not sure what it's actually meant to do.  Possibly make the girl throw up.  Or just embarrass her.  Or both.  Although we did see one girl who seemed to enjoy it a lot.  They got Marissa just after we arrived, a beautiful, reserved and extremely cynical Dutch girl.  The look on her face will keep me laughing for weeks; but I'm worried it might have severely mentally damaged her, possibly for life.

We spent the Monday night back in San Diego, and on Tuesday I got to have a quick coffee with my friend Jesse who lives there.  I meet him in Egypt, and it feels so weird to be able to just have a normal coffee with a guy I haven't seen for so long.  San Diego officially has some of the world's best weather.  Caught the train back the same day, five hours of staring out as California rolls by.  Concrete, factories, parking lots and emptiness.  Near LA a group of young kids skating with blue hills and palm trees behind them.

It's started getting dark very early here, much earlier than at home.  It must be being closer to the equator, and daylight saving.  The sun sets at about five; I saw it from the eighth floor of the library today, an orange ball hanging above the sea, throwing last light on us.  The tree outside my window is still shedding its leaves - it must have so many!  Just like how the sky never runs out of rain.  I wonder if it will go quite bare for winter.

Winter seems to be taking its sweet time about it.  Today it was too hot to sit in the sun for long, and everyone's still in T-shirts.  Tonight is particularly balmy.  There's a fire out at Montecito, burning up the rich people's homes.  It's not that close to us, not close enough to worry, but if we get evacuated maybe I won't have to take my tests.