A Day in Santa Barbara

A Day in Santa Barbara

It’s cloudy with a hint of sprinkle rain, El Niño rain (before turning into The Man). The streets around here are filled with tourist (I’m one of them…. So I would like to sound like a hipster), mostly to be European and Latinos. I almost forgot that it’s supposed to be winter since you know, there are green plants, trees, leaves, and t-shirts roaming casually around (I’m sure the plants are wandering in spirit). Not a bad place to sit and have lunch, brunch to be honest. Instead of looking at Yelp for thirty mins ( feels like sixty ), I finally found a place to get food and sought out this place, rather than the location in an arcade. The view here is worth it, the waitress standing in the entrance also is worth it (whatever that means right?).

I sat down, on the table right next to the front pillar, for about one and a half to two hours now (the pillar that shelters me and rest of the white/ and Spanish from the rain). To my left, is a table, when sitting down to that table the mother suggested the son to sit across feel her so she can see him, and the father sat next to the mother, he can also see him as well. They talked about the play, school play, that they’ll be late for (probably at UCS).

To my right, is a Dutch family ( or Spanish, or Italian, or French, or a mixture due from marriage). The daughter (probably 4 years old) can speak Dutch and English at the least, the mother (I asked while looking at her daughter smashing her mother’s pregnant stomach as hard as a toy car running into your feet [assuming the toy car is 1.5 inches and runs on the pure potential energy of you pushing it {and fuck it, I’m adding a thought within a thought within a thought} without really hurting anything or thought.]) She replied “Dutch, French, Spanish, Italian, and some Portuguese. But they (the husband’s mother), they can speak Portuguese, Spanish, French, and Italian.” “I can speak Dutch!” Her daughter shouted in the next instance (see, multilingualism is balls awesome.).

“Großmutter, Vater, Hut, Äpfel, Pomme, words right?”, the current obsession for me is German, thanks to my previous friend and the podcast I had, listening to during the five hour drive last night.”

“Look at that boy, he’s going to break his next climbing that tree.” The two Großmutter behind me said. The boy is about three years old, climbing less than a meter above the ground on the twisty tree in the picture posted(Imagine a parallelogram, where one of the edges are on the floor, the tallest height from he ground to the parallelogram is less that one meter [the tree is the continuous line of the line to the obtuse side of the bottom line]). “Oh Lord, just let the boy do his boy thing, like climbing a fucking tree and falling. These little humans are malleable, it’s bad enough that we live in an ultra sensitive society, let the boy do his thing” ( or, at least, that’s what I thought).

Around the corner of the tree, and the boy, and the Street, there stands a homeless entertaining man, face raggedy with the white beard and brown engraved wrinkles. But he’s juggling, he’s juggling sticks around as a level 30 necromancer (assuming the level system goes from 0 to 80, 30 is pretty small but still, it’s pretty impressive from someone who’s a level 0). His home, (away from home, in a shopping cart) is next to him, but I don’t see a coin hat to place tips. Strange, but amused.

In the time it took me to type this (by thumb), I’ve only seen three blacks. A lot of Latino, Asians, and majority whites. This city is very… I have no information to assess that completion. But I think I’m going to go drive.

All in all.

Food: Duck, 8/10
Scenery: Cloudy, 9/10
Coffee: Meh.
Overall Chillness: Not bad.
Proofread this again: Nope.
Next destination: la.

Spend the next two hours at a coffee shop across the street and talked with a newly graduated history major of the American West. Name Mason, while drinking excellent green tea. I needed to know why there are so many European tourist here, and a person who loves to travel while working at a museum was a real stranger to answer that question.

Like the entirety of this trip, my extreme impulsive nature has entertained me.