Houston
I'm in Houston.
It's pretty hot, and really humid, but I haven't turned into a puddle or sweated away all my clothes or anything. I do think my muscles have atrophied because, as it turns out, exercising in 80 degree heat with 80% humidity isn't enjoyable, and I don't have a good track record of consistently doing things that aren't enjoyable.
In the months leading up to this little adventure, I got all sorts of happy advice from people who had come before me. The climate was always the first subject, but that might be because I always asked about it. "How did you stand it? Why do people choose to live there? What the hell does 90% humidity even mean? Is back sweat just a standard fashion accessory?" Most people were cautiously optimistic, and clearly they had all survived. No one answered my question about the back sweat.
The other common tip was about the driving. I heard independently from two people that the drivers here are hyper-aggressive, and when I brought this up to others, no one really shot it down. So I developed this picture in my head of crazy lifted monster trucks looming in my rear-view mirror for a few terrifying seconds before whipping around me at high speed, their truck-nuts dangling in a show of Texan masculinity.
Well, as it turns out, the drivers aren't that bad, either. Compared to my previous internship experience, which kicked off with a car crash that totaled two vehicles and left me hyperventilating for half a day (and ultimately resulted in my current car insurance premium of $120/month for fuck-all coverage), traveling in Humidtown has been a carousel ride, complete with pretty ponies and giraffes. And I have yet to see a single truck-nut, so I guess those are more of a California brand douchebaggery.
I will say, though, that the warnings I received about Houston suburbia were right on the mark. I was told to live in Montrose, or the Heights, or the Museum District, or really anywhere in the Inner Loop, and that distance from downtown meant distance from everything enjoyable about this city. I tried to heed those warnings, but due to an irreparable warp in the fabric of space and time, housing here is very nearly as expensive as housing in Menlo Park. For that and various other reasons, I ended up in a furnished apartment in a gated complex, in the middle of a stuccoed shopping center, at the edge of the Outer Loop, in Chinatown. Positives: proximity to Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, and Malaysian restaurants. Negatives: pretty much everything else.
Well, that might be a little harsh, but it is a bit weird that my closest supermarkets have chicken feet and pig heads but no milk or bread. And really, more than anything else, I've realized that this neighborhood really just lacks beauty. Houston, as you may know, is flat flat flat. When you get on a freeway overpass, you are as high as you can get without taking an elevator. I'm sure it's not a big deal for people who grew up in topographically challenged areas, but I'm having a hard time adjusting to the fact that the only features I will ever see on the skyline here are buildings. And a little exploring has led me to realize that some areas of Houston strive to alter this view: there are neighborhoods with cute brick houses and big, leafy shade trees, and they're actually pleasant to spend time in, even just driving through. But here in my frontage road community, we have concrete, power lines, the tollway, and a really big bank to fill our view, and if you don't find that a little bit depressing, you're probably not imagining it properly.
So I've been venturing out more and more, and despite all I've just said, my experience here has been overall very positive. I've experienced some of the coolest thunderstorms of my life, eaten some pretty delicious food, scienced some awesome science, and a few times it's been cool enough post-rain that I've stepped outside and felt happy about it. And more than anything, the great people here are making it all so much fun that I'm actually a little bummed that I've passed the halfway point of my stay.
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| Oh yeah, and I saw an alligator. |
Weddings
A lot of my friends are getting married these days. I guess it's just that time of life, but wow it's weird. Of course it's super exciting and awesome, and I love seeing my friends all happy and lovey, but that is so far from my life plans right now, so it can't help feeling a bit weird. Also, it's a universal truth we've known from age six that first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage (I should get an award for awesome blog writing after that one). I can blissfully ignore the fact that more and more people in my life are referring to husbands and wives instead of boyfriends and girlfriends, but babies are a little more solid and in-your-face. There are actually a lot of babies in my life right now too, but they're the progeny of people in their 30s, so that's okay. My high school and college friends will always be too young and doofy (love you guys) to have babies, at least in my mind. Plus I'm really bad at remembering birthdays, so when the people in my life start multiplying without my having any say in it, the birthday-remembering part of my brain will probably just over-pressurize and burst. At least then I'll have an excuse.
Travel
I guess Houston sort of falls into this category, but who said blogs have to be logical and organized. Looking back on the last year or two, and looking ahead to the coming years, I have a fuckload of traveling going on. I know it doesn't hold a candle to the endless adventures of those backpacking types and globetrotters who make my Facebook feed look mildly interesting, but for me, it's pretty good. Yesterday was the two-year mark from my trip to France with Sam, which was followed by a jaunty road trip around the western U.S. looking at grad schools. Stanford obligingly shipped me off to New Zealand within months of my arriving, but not before a quick trip to Death Valley, which will always feel like an exotic land no matter how many central Californian gas stations you drive through to get there. Now I'm in Houston, which is pretty damn foreign to me, and the minute this internship is over I'm headed to Canada for a little geologizing in the Rockies with some of the best people I know. A few months later it's back to Zealandia, but hopefully not before a little California travel with the absolute best person I know, if we can get our act together in time.
It's sort of a crazy ride, especially for a homebody like me, but I feel so unbelievably lucky to have had these experiences. And I think I'm getting a little better at traveling without freaking out, but my New Zealand partner in crime can attest that I'm not there yet. Practice makes perfect, eh?
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| Rennes probably deserves its own blog post, but until then here's the Frenchest photo I have from that trip. |
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| Pretty much sums up most road trips. This one had spectacular rocks though. |
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| Day one in Death Valley I discovered my camera was out of batteries, and I didn't have the charger. So this one is credit to Glenn, who pretty much always has a camera I think :) |
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| Yeah, New Zealand was pretty nice I guess. |
