I spent a good portion of my formative years living in Santa Cruz. I went there for college and actually hated it the first year and a half. I'm not sure why I changed my mind, but instead of hating all the weird cracked out street buskers, the hippies who won't give up, the trillion surf shops, the laid back lifestyle, and the general "whateve" vibe the town has going on, I soon learned to love it.
I loved walking down the street and bumping into someone you know on every block. I loved heading down to West Cliff and flying a kite, I loved grabbing the slowest paced bagel from crazy order takers, I loved seeing deer randomy strollinga round the campus, and mostly, I loved hanging out and doing a lot of nothing.
When I left I knew it was time to go. You can only stay so long or risk turning into a "townie." Santa Cruz is ridiculously quaint and isolated. To get out you have to drive up a windy -- and sometimes scary -- road up and down a mountin, or go way out of your way up the coast. Its isolation is what allows it to stay charming, and yet its isolation is what makes it a place I won't be living again, at least not any time in the next 20 years or so.
However it is nice to visit. And I love sharing it with folks who have never been. This time Randall and I got to share it with Annie and Phil, both of them had never been. Based on the smiles I saw, I am going to say they liked it. The weather was perfect for the beach -- sunny and warm -- and even though we were not dressed for the beach, Phil turned into a 7 year old and enjoyed it all the same. We also got up close and personal with some lazy sea lions, rode a coaster and ate some good eats. And on days like that one, I actually wonder if being a "townie" would be so bad.
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Did you ride the Giant Dipper? That chug, chug, chug noise gets me every time.