Brock's Adventures Day 2-4: Of Hemp and the Homeless

The next day after leaving Gabe and Rebeckah, I joined up with my family and we drove up the coast to the small town of Santa Barbara. In the nighttime fog the ocean spray and jagged rocks of the shore contrasted brilliantly with the soft glow that emanated from the buildings and homes established along the road. It was very picturesque and even a touch eerie. To compliment the dark atmosphere I placed Nirvana’s Unplugged into the CD player and enjoyed the moody atmosphere. Finally, after about 2 hours of driving we arrived in Santa Barbara, or what I would later deem to be Santa Barbaric. My hotel room was rather nice, but it faced one of the main streets that ran through the little town, and as a result I had more then my fair glimpse of the homeless. Moreover, cars seemed to be driving by every few seconds due to the intersection being merely feet away. However, the window to my room was big enough that if I stood up to it I could see a large portion of the town as well as the mountainous regions in the distance.

Although the poverty made for a sad sight, it was nice to have a good view of Santa Barbara from my hotel room. Suffering from insomnia afforded me plenty of time to admire the nightlife of the streets as I tried to wrestle myself to sleep. Perhaps I’m being too critical of my insomniac inclinations though. You see, the neighbors above us felt this pressing need to play rap and hip hop music full blast from dusk to daybreak. Most of the residents of the hotel seemed to simply grin and bear it, and I didn’t really mind it too much. Once morning came though, I got a very different view of the town.

You see, down here in Phoenix we have this little sub-city called Tempe that’s positioned near the Arizona State University. The result is that Tempe has taken on the visage of your typical college town, another Oxford for example. My first night staying in Santa Barbara spawned the opinion that it was a barbaric little berg, besieged by destitution and unseemliness. Once daylight came however, the town of Santa Barbara was really no different from Tempe (save for the fact that an ocean surrounded Santa Barbara). Little coffee houses and restaurants offered breakfasts that departed from the typical bacon and eggs fare. At one place they had steel cut oats fresh from Ireland and poached eggs served on olive toast with artichoke garnish. Similarly, Santa Barbara boasted its own little independent music store similar to Tempe’s Stinkweeds. When I first saw it while strolling down the city streets I had sworn someone had carved out my own personal little haven for me. Littering the store windows and obscuring the insides were tons of great music posters. Most of all, the suggestive artwork of Radiohead’s Hail to the Thief covered the shop window like wallpaper. I didn’t buy anything too special at that store, but I finally found a copy of Blur’s 13.
Two other stores I ran into at Santa Barbara were a comic store (where I caught up on my Spider-Man fix) and the infamous Church of Skatan’. Longtime skaters might know the Church by its well-known reputation of transforming an old Catholic Church into what is currently a skateboard store. True to form, it looked more like a Church on the inside than a skateboard store. Stained glass windows and red carpeting were contrasted with skateboard decks and wheels. Wooden pillars and the alters of worship were no longer adorned in religious testaments but now sported gigantic posters of skateboard pros like Chad Muska. It was hilarious to be sure…

When nighttime approached the pleasant little college town transformed once again from a peach-tile jungle into a neon-lit menagerie. I stopped and had dinner at this great little Mexican restaurant that was nestled in between two large buildings and down an alleyway, and I saw the city’s homeless march themselves out into the streets to display signs that read, “A city stricken by poverty” and of course the trademark “the end is near”.
(Keep in mind, I would later on learn that this was nothing compared to the mass poverty of San Francisco)

After staying Saturday night in my hotel room we got up bright and early the next day to begin our trek to San Francisco.


Hearst’s Castle:

Built many years ago by publishing giant William Randolph Hearst, Hearst’s Castle remains to be one of the most prominent historical house museums in the country. Once we had cleared Santa Barbara we came into San Simeon to briefly visit Hearst’s Castle. Unfortunately though, the last tour of the day had left the visiting center for the castle by the time we arrived. As a result, I had to scope out the castle through some coin-operated binoculars positioned on a little cliff. Even glancing at it from a distance though proved that Hearst’s Castle was quite large. Maybe next time I’m in that area I’ll actually take the guided tour.