“Dean's California--wild, sweaty, important, the land of lonely and exiled and eccentric lovers come to forgather like birds, and the land where everybody somehow looked like broken-down, handsome, decadent movie actors.” ― Jack Kerouac, On the Road

One of my favourite spectacles thus far in Santa Cruz is a man who sits on Pacific Avenue with a table and chairs offering 'Free Empathy' to passers-by, and one is able to sit with him and talk.

I have officially moved into Zami, my co-op; a cavern of fairy lights, kittens,incense, politics, seeds, spices, forties, punks, flowers, art and yoga. I am sharing a room with a girl named Sparrow and our window leads out onto the roof where we are able to sit and watch the Californian sunshine both rise and set. Words of previous genius are chalked into the wooden beams above my head and our shelves are piled with books. Sparrow burns sage in a pan upon our makeshift loft to ward off evil spirits. She taught me how to make origami cranes, tiny delicate birds in rainbow colours. We give them wings that truly fly but they will probably never even see the sky, for they are too delicate.

On the bus into town from campus on day, i met a boy named Forest who befriended me by offering me a very small lemon and inviting me to a potluck in his trailer park.

I have 8am classes here and waking with the birds means it is awfully cold, although there is something delicious about donning some (faux) fur and braving the forest with my thermos, caffeine whispers casting my  foggy secrets into the air like smoke. The clouds in the land of eternal sunshine have been letting out their frustration over the past few days and one night even lightning paid us a visit, outshining the stars with her chaotic brilliance. There was no thunder to accompany her, perhaps here in the land of the free even the elements are loose to roam, conducting their own orchestras, regardless of expectations.

I bought a coat from a vintage shop to shield my pasty northern skin from the forest and there is a name embroidered with extravagant flourishes within the lining. Out of curiosity, i googled it and it seems the coat once belonged to a writer from California who settled not too far from Santa Cruz, before passing away a couple of years ago. Another kindred spirit guiding me from the ocean.

After purchasing some second-hand crochet to sleep upon, i visited the bank. Upon opening an account, i had a choice of two languages: English and Espanol. Naturally, i chose English. I do not wish to stereotype, but my blonde and barbie-pink-nailed personal banker 'Britney' exclaimed, 'Wow! So like, you can speak the British language as well?' I nonchalantly told her that i could and she stared at me, wide eyed. 'That is like, so cool.' Indeed. She then proceeded to try and persuade me to choose a pink debit card with an animal of my choice imprinted on it. I declined and in retrospect regret this decision.

As darkness descended, we lit a bonfire in the garden of my new home and whiled away the hours drinking herbal tinctures from tiny glass apothecary bottles and watching sparks evaporate into the night like fireworks, as our drowsy thoughts spiraled with the intoxicating smell of thick festival smoke. A boy with a moustache produced a banjo and began to tug upon it's heartstrings, as Zack, a boy from the forest, produced a miniature organ  from a suitcase and accompanied him. It was simultaneously melancholic and wonderful.

On Friday evening we hosted a gig in our living room at Zami, to raise money for local bands going on tour. We spent the night playing old cassettes and swing dancing as the rain waltzed in sheets from the sky. A boy played a saw plugged into an amplifier with the bow from a violin. Apparently this is a common occurrence in Santa Cruz. It has a beautiful, soul wrenching sound.

                                           

I attempted to spend Saturday writing in a cafe but got distracted and strayed into an antiques shop. I was wearing a tshirt emblazoned with the American flag and after watching me for a while, the owner called me over. 'I have something you need.' He pressed a button and cases of precious stones, chipped brooches and charm bracelets laden with the heavy trinkets of past lives and lovers rotated before my eyes. I could see my eager face shining in the glass, waiting in anticipation for this ancient gem which was about to change my life. He stopped upon a diamante encrusted star spangled banner belt buckle........

I am having incredibly vivid dreams again, dreams in which i cannot distinguish what is reality, where i wake burning with kaleidoscopes exploding and whirling behind my eyes. The tortilla chips are black and there are pirates living in the basement. The sky is awash with fire and there are accordions ringing in my ears. There are punks crowd surfing through my living room and bearded men handing me origami in the street. I am clicking my boots made of glitter together but i am so far down the yellow brick road there is no going back now. There are mountain lions in the forest and I am certainly not in Kansas anymore. 

But i think i might just like it.