Northeast to Southwest

During my time as a Cantabrigian, I took some care to try to explore the northeast nook of the country.  Most of this exploration was restricted to the sunny (and not-quite-so-scholarly) months of the summer.  Lots of trips to NYC (short bus ride away), one brief venture to Montreal for the jazz festival, some trips to the White Mountains (among other mountains) in New Hampshire, a bit of time on island with the flora and fauna of Martha's Vineyard, skiing in Maine and Vermont, and even a short journey to Provincetown on the tip of the Cape (grâce à my old adviser).

One thing that slowly dawned on me after a few weeks living in San Diego is that there are such mini-adventures to be had around here as well, if not so densely packed in as in the Northeast.  The first evidence of this was provided by the camping adventure of a few weeks ago, and over the past week I have had quite a bit of additional evidence.

First, a visit to the city of angels (a first for me) because friends from the East Coast were around.  Only a couple of parts (the downtown area, mostly, and a bit of Koreatown, where I stayed) did I really explore, so I'm excited to go back and delve in sometime soon.  The best part was decidedly renting bikes to go down from Santa Monica to Venice Beach (not the last Venice I'd experience in the week).  Absolutely lovely... See picture above, down a teensy little crook of a pathway between lots of houses over-flowing with plants (in the good way).  Somehow I never feel as though the beaches of SD are that available to me, when I really should be making more of them.  Biking around the area's a bit difficult (maybe easier once I bring back Yoshi?) and I hate the idea of driving to the beach -- for some reason it just seems worse than driving other places.  As if the beach is this totally amazing natural phenomenon that I'm lucky enough to live near and then... I have to drive there.  I may crack eventually and decide to move far away enough to live by the beach peaceably, but then I'd have to drive to school...  File under overprivileged guilt, or something.  And just guilt at luckiness.  It really is beautiful here.

A second recent southwest meandering led me to Vegas. V. (former roommate V., not current classmate V.) flew into L.A. the last day I was there, and after a couple of days in San Diego, we headed out for Thanksgiving in Las Vegas.  A weirder Thanksgiving did never I spend.  I've been describing the trip as a great Vegas-y trip (total experience without getting too nuts) but a not-so-great Thanksgiving-y trip (buffet at the Rio had some great stuffing but sheesh, so not the same).  However: It was indeed a fabulous first go at Vegas, and I came away with some first-timer tips:

1. First and foremost: find your place in the gambling sun.  For some, this might involve the sexy cabaret dancers at Paris; for others, the casino next to the amazingly re-created northern Italy setting at the Venetian; and for still others, the sophistication of Caesar's palace.  But when we saw our place, we knew it: Bill's Gamblin' Hall.  After a few minutes at the roulette table we were SURE we had found it -- not only did V.'s $1 bet on black 31 pay off (40 to 1 odds!) immediately, but we were also lucky enough to find a place with karaoke until 2 in the morning our first night there.

2. Leave the table once you quit doing well.  A lucky streak is a beautiful thing; once you feel like you're leaning away from that local maxima, go to a new table (or cash out).

3. Go to at least one truly Vegas show.  We may have hated ourselves a bit for it, but a woman sporting 10 hula hoops at once and a lover/roller-skater duo topped with a juggling pianist isn't a scene to be had just anywhere.

4. Don't pay for any drinks.  There will be plenty of free ones.

5. But don't get too drunk.  And if you do, go home.