Snow Day in Summit

My boyfriend and I went snowboarding at Snow Summit on Friday (my first time). According to the weather, it was set to rain down here, which meant snow up there. I've never been in falling snow before, so I was pretty psyched. The drive up had flurries of snow, but nothing major.



By the time we started snowboarding, it was snowing steadily and SO beautiful. We stuck to the bunny slopes for four rounds before taking on a bigger run. At the top of the mountain, we were FREEZING and it was snowing heavily. I was scared to snowboard down the run as such a novice, let alone in such heavy snowfall. After a bit of coaxing from my boyfriend, he convinced me that I was perfectly capable of doing it. It was difficult to see too far ahead of me with the thick layer of falling snow, but we eventually made it to the bottom with little effort. It was such a huge accomplishment!



At the end of the day, we headed back to the car, which was covered in half a foot of snow. It took us about an hour to get on the snow chains because we had to dig our car out and deal with the continued snowfall. Then after a two hours drive down the mountain, we made it back in one piece. Overall, a great day!



If you've made it this far in reading my blog, now finally comes the part that relates to "place."

Driving up the mountain, seeing the snow-covered houses and overall wintery wonderfulness, it made me realize how glad I am that I live in San Diego. No offense to those that live in locations of full "four seasons," but I enjoy getting away from the usually "seasonless" San Diego to play in the snow. I treat my snowy mountain visits as rare vacations. I've been in the snow maybe 8 times in my entire life, so you can imagine my excitement when I saw the snow on top of the low mountain behind our campus last week. While sitting in one of my classes, I just stared up at the snow in awe through the window. My friend sitting beside me, who grew up in the nearby mountains, looked at the snow and rolled her eyes, saying, "Ugh, I'm so glad I'm not up there right now shoveling out my driveway." It was then that I realized how much I appreciate the snow. Even trekking through the deep snow and digging out the car was a fun experience for me, and not many locals can say THAT. =)

A Sense of Community

(I <3 Google Maps street view)

The neighborhood in which I live is a quiet, arborous community headed by the Homeowners' Association. Each house is connected by one wall, forming a duplex townhouse. I don't think of my community as the unconnected suburban sprawl Kunstler and Guterman mentioned. For one thing, I live just a few freeway exits away from Downtown San Diego. My community is an authentic suburban. And unlike the brand new suburban sprawls of Temecula, Menifee, and others, our neighborhood has been around for a long time. Some of its occupants have lived there since it was built in the late 1970s. Despite my family living here since 1990, we are not closely connected to our neighbors. In fact, all the people in my neighborhood generally keep to themselves. We all make small talk when we wash our cars, walk our dogs, get our mail, or walk to and from our cars. My mother's naturally nosy nature allows her to know more about our neighbors than anyone else in our community. And although we have our own lives that don't involve each other, there is an unwritten rule that we look out for one another. If a garage door is left open or a car light left on, we let each other know. If my family goes out of town for vacation, we leave our house and car keys across the street with Omar, just in case there's a fire and he can save my parents' precious Benz. There is an implicit trust in our neighborhood.


I strongly disagree that this lack of community and connection is necessarily a bad thing. Community is not a specific location to me. Community is the bond I share with loved ones. I find my community in my friends and family. It is this separation of residence and social connection that I think keeps people sane. If everyone was in each other's business all the time in our neighborhood, we'd probably get sick of one another and begin neighborhood rivalries. If you watch "Everybody Loves Raymond," then you know what I'm talking about. We have our homes for the purpose of living our own lives. If people want to be social, go outside. That's what "outside" is for; it's at our disposal. Kunstler's idea of creating a place in which we want to spend time is exactly what we need outside of our homes.

Vietnam: A Response to Kunstler's "The Tragedy of Suburbia"

Vietnam is a place of substantial differences when compared to the States. Different sights, different smells, completely different culture. I could probably write a whole book about my experiences in South, Central, and North Vietnam. To hone in on a more specific point, there is much to be discussed about Vietnam's used of space.


Architecture in Vietnam does not vary much in certain parts. While entire buildings are about as narrow as a one-car parking garage, they tower four, sometimes five or six stories, pressed together like encyclopedias on a bookshelf. They are also built as deep as they are tall (pictured above). As Kunstler pointed out the lack of windows on the sides of a house, these buildings have a reason for that absence -- not enough space. While the reason for constructing buildings wall-to-wall is to save space in these overcrowded cities, they give a sense of togetherness, almost like huddling together for warmth. Nevertheless, while these buildings are capable of sharing such an intimate bond with one another, that bond is just as easily removed, disposable. As seen in the picture above, a building has been ripped from its metal rods that were used to connect it to the orange building.


In front of these buildings, the relationship between sidewalk and storefront is at its strongest. The wall is non-existent, except perhaps for a slight incline of a ramp used so mopeds and bicycles may enter the building. While some buildings are built deep, a few are build shallow (pictured above). The practicality of this design may be interpreted as an advantage: wherever you are inside, you are never too far from the outside. Vietnam is full of busy people who need not even enter the building to do their shopping. They simply stand on the sidewalk and, hey, fruit right there, at your disposal (duly note that fruit is a BIG part of Vietnamese diet; that's why we're so small lol).


After, before, or even during a long day of work, some people just want a quick, relaxing break. A local coffeeshop (pictured above) looks out directly onto the street. There are no walls to obstruct your view, not even glass windows. The openness between building and street is teeming. Additionally, the relationship between people themselves in this coffeeshop is almost forced, as the lawn chairs are laid out side by side. Mingling and conversing are the actions of the day.


Marketplaces (pictured above) are the most lively and interesting places to visit. Stalls, tents, and buildings are squashed together with barely enough room to breathe. The narrow space you have to walk is hindered every few steps when you must step aside for a moped or bicycle or ride through. Many times, these two-wheelers will shop while remaining seated. While Kunstler dreams of a future where people and environment can coexist closer together, I don't think he meant THIS close.


A better idea of what Kunstler wants seems to be more along the lines the photo pictured above, nightlife on the streets. Again, there is no wall between people and buildings. Either end of this street is blocked off to cars, only accessible to people, bicycles, and mopeds. It creates a safer, more inviting location. Sidewalks are large and spacious, though many times occupied by mopeds, though the street between sidewalks allows sightseers and visitors to enjoy an evening stroll.


The relationship between people and nature can be seen almost anywhere in Vietnam, especially in the country. People are comfortable enough with nature to allow graves to dwell within rice patties, even. In the city, however, Kunstler would be proud. Trees tower alongside busy streets, looming over drivers, riders, and walkers to create an umbrella of shade and beauty. These trees perhaps fulfill Kunstler's four arborous requirements, with the addition of very slightly alleviating the pollution problem in Vietnam.

And on this final note, I will one-up Kunstler... Sidewalks in Vietnam aren't only constructed for people; modes of transportation want in on the action too! See below: