Not that anyone really reads my blog, but I would still like to share my article I wrote for the Independent, a small weekly paper in Santa Barbara. Enjoy!
Most sane people would welcome the quiet that summer brings to Isla Vista. No one is rushing to class on their self-propelled two (or four)-wheeled vehicles, the cars actually stop at the stop sign in front of my apartment building and there are small, daily migrations of girls in their flip-flops and cover-ups toward the stairs on Del Playa drive. Usually, there are masses of beach cruisers entering and leaving the Pardall tunnel and a line that goes out the door of Freebirds. But during the summer, not so much. There is no 10 o’clock scream from Francisco Torres, nor are there Jesus burgers at the Reality house. It is simply not as busy. Amidst all this calm, I marvel at the rest that this town is receiving. My friend on his skateboard can actually spot me as I walk toward work at UCSB. I think “Hey, this seems like a hibernation of sorts, a rest and wait for the season of life to come around again.”
Yes, that’s right; I think that the summer in Isla Vista is much like a creature hibernating in the winter waiting for spring to come around again. It’s quite like a bear, active for 3 seasons a year, sleeping for one, albeit the sleep of I.V. comes with the warmth of the sun and not the cold of the winter.
Take the case of Jorge, one of Isla Vista’s mail carriers. He loves working his route because for three glorious months out of the center of the year, his pack is half as light and he delivers my mail two hours earlier than usual. And, if he’s lucky, some of the dog warnings are removed for good. His heart rate, much like a bear’s in the winter, is lowered during the summer. This conserves his energy for the big push in September and October. Jorge, even though his route is the same number of boxes as one in San Roque or Montecito, receives welcome refreshment for one quarter of the year. He can crawl into his den and sleep, i.e., visit his family and enjoy the sunshine on his route.
Or look at the influx and outflow of students. In the spring, like a bear gathering twigs and shrubs for a nest in its den, so Isla Vistans are preparing for a big move of their own. They box up, throw out, clean (or not) the stuff in their apartments for a move to other pastures – a temporary move away from the Isla Vista world, like a bear moves into its world of slumber and darkness.
Or think of it like school kids in the summer, because Isla Vista life runs on the school schedule. Kids have nothing but lazy days to play stick ball and lounge in the pool – or in the case of IV, go to the beach and lazily consume alcohol, bringing forth new friends and flings, much like a bear that has nothing to do but slumber and give birth to cubs in the winter.
It makes me wonder: would IV really be the same without its own summer hibernation? Would the parties and weekend festivals be as joyous if there was no break?
As I take a walk in the quieter end of IV, the 6800 block where the houses have room to breathe and many of their residents are permanent fixtures, I wonder if this is what Isla Vista were to become if its primary residents were no longer transient, and if IV no longer has its own hibernation. There are manicured front lawns, nice architectural features, one guy even has an old railway signal planted in his front lawn.
But, save for the summer surfers, there’s little activity on these blocks, even during the school year. There’s no uproarious laughter coming out of the windows, there’s no one playing beer pong on their patio, no fruit trucks peddling their wares and no transients hanging out. It’s just another sleepy suburban neighborhood, like an eerie permanent hibernation.
If this is Isla Vista with no hibernation, then, I don’t want it. I escaped the shiny lure of Orange County, only to end up in this unique community, where many of your friends are in walking distance, not to mention the beach and other recreational endeavors. A place where at any time of year, including holidays and the summer, you can meet someone and play with their Labrador at the beach or where you can wander to get a burrito just because it is 2am and you have nothing else to do. A place of extreme wealth and extreme poverty all smashed up in each other’s space. A place where Hillel is less than a block away from both the Catholic and Episcopal churches, and the Mormon church sits near the place where all the inebriated students and visitors line up for food at the end of the night.
Without hibernation, the bears would not survive and, without its own summer hibernation, Isla Vista and the open-minded “live and let live” culture associated with it would not either. It might become another suburban neighborhood, where Freebirds gives way to Chipotle and the Isla Vista youth program becomes a high-end daycare for working parents.
But, if hibernation - or student transience - is necessary for the survival of IV, then bring it on, even if it does mean that the Pita Pit is closed and the nice boys have moved from next door. Eventually, just as the momma bear emerges in the spring with her cubs in search of food, so too does Isla Vista end its hibernation, to begin its full life anew, hungry, waiting for what the next nine months will reveal.
No comments:
Post a Comment