One year in SLO

We moved to San Luis Obispo about a year ago.

The neighborhood

I live in one of those new developments on the central coast of California. Everything is squared, marked, landscaped. A few remaining blue gum trees from the grove that was in place of the community. It's a small island of medium-density housing with a few paths and common areas, we have a pool and a hot tub.

Brown mulch everywhere. Agonizing succulents. Concrete. Construction artifacts are still visible everywhere. Busted irrigation, random piles of material, and the incessant dance of contractors make it feel like the construction will never fully stop. Dare I mention the leafblower and pesticide spray on Mondays. The cloud of dust. The awkward eye contact with the underpaid Mexican landscaping crews.

Most windows are closed. Most blinds are down. Few signs of life are visible. Some patios show torn kids or pet stuff. Mine showcases 2 pathetic pots in which some kale bravely survives the assault of the sun and aphids. The recently painted walls and speckless concrete age sadly, no charming patina. The buzz of climate control units is constant. So is the ballet of cars coming in and out. Some front doors rarely open. Mine included, I quickly got the habit of using only the garage remote.

In this relatively sterile modern environment, everyone is peacefully segregated. The communal areas do a decent job of bringing the neighborhood together. During workdays, I pace around the walking paths between meetings, among 90% of dog owners. The hot tub in the pool area is the real forum. I heard of many electrical issues, plumbing, faulty appliances, pests, construction delays… It’s universally accepted that complaining while bathing in hot water is lovely. Most bathers equally mentioned loving « the SLO life ». The happiest ones are those comparing here with other states they experienced. Someone told me about a family who sold to move to Delaware, pointing out: « I’m sure they got a good deal, but why? »

This is America trying hard to move away from its suburban model – an earnest effort at creating a high-density, walkable community. People walk to the grocery stores and around the paths. Land and resources are used more efficiently. All my issues with the picture I’m painting are first-world problems and criticism of American culture more than housing or infrastructure. Optimismistically this might be a healthy sign of transition. I can confidently say that it is the most comfortable place I ever (will ever?) lived in. Is that aligned with my lofty philosophical definition of a good quality of life? Maybe.

Lifestyle

The SLO life lives up to its reputation. People of all walks of life tend to be more laid back (at least compared to the bay). There are a lot of pickup trucks and churches per capita, I knew that.

I have mixed feelings regarding the outdoors here. More trails and preserved nature are accessible. People generally appreciate being outdoors, in a recreational way. A typically American, anthropocentric enjoyment that rubs me the wrong way. People go to The trail, to hike, ride, go birding, or whatever. They go for a purpose. I go out in nature just to be outside. I was raised that way, when you don’t have anything to do inside, you go outside, where you, monkey, belong. I understand that it may sound like odd European snobbery. Here, it’s the other way around. You go out to get your step, get something done, exercise, and then back inside. A notable exception is barbecue (yet debatable).

We are now 30 minutes away from the beach… on average we’ve been once a month. It’s lovely. Walking barefoot in the sand and getting some fresh air is appreciated whatever the season. The beach is exotic to me. I very rarely went as a kid. I thought I would find something cathartic but I may I’m not a beach person.

SLO is the healthiest mix of convenience: groceries, healthcare, education, public institutions, and not too much of the rest. So far we are not missing anything (my wife would suggest a good Asian grocery store, but rarely complains about it). Although the infrastructure feels a lot like southern California, the traffic is not an issue and people appreciate it. Still - Most people drive everywhere.

I rarely go «downtown». There are more trees, no planes, nice shops, a cool farmers market… much to love. We loved our 2 months there as an introduction to SLO. It was our honeymoon phase: unrealistically pleasant. We can’t afford downtown and wouldn’t fit anyway. We go to stroll around for nostalgia and window shopping when we are too lazy to go further. For us, Downtown competes with the beach, an unfair fight that only fatigue can skew. I bike around on the weekends with the little one like a tourist.

Cycling is mostly a hobby. The bike infrastructure is a political statement more than a true public utility… like most places. I’m harsh as it is undeniably much better than SoCal. There is an active community of cyclists and a a lot of bike lanes. Cyclists are split between convenience seekers and sports enthusiasts. There is an unhealthy amount of MTBs. Unhealthy because 90% drive to the trails. And folks like nice bikes (full suspension, carbon, electric, brand names). I will speculate that none of them are ridden more than once every 2 weeks max on average. My inner Greta Thumberg shivers every time I see a pickup (or a Tesla) truck (even worse, a cyber truck) loaded with a $5000 trail crusher. Same for roadies but it seems to be a smaller (less visible) group.

Weather

Our first winter was very wet. Nearby Laguna Lake overflowed a few times. Not dramatically, no damage, only some mild sewer reflux and drainage areas remained swampy for weeks. Rain and the greenery brought joy to my heart. Rain brings the ants in and the frogs out. Frog orgies animate the creekside less than 100 feet away from us.

In the summer, the wind makes the heat a lot more bearable. I don't mind the chill and it's oddly fun to see people wear beanies under palm trees. We spent the summer before deep in the LA valley, in the foothills of Mount Baldy where heat and pollution get trapped. This summer in SLO was an experience I should not complain about. The banal cliche of the central coast is real, it is not as foggy and cold as the bay but not as hot and stuffy as LA. The luminosity is what gets me. I'm not used to living with a hat and sunglasses constantly on. Anyway, I always forget one or both and end up squinting for hours. I know it's petty, but I don't it. I call it the California helmet. While we are on petty complaint, I'm not a fan of having a logo on my forehead.

SLO county has a few micro-climate. The coast is chilly. We found refuge in Morro Bay a few times where the great fog barrier keeps the area in the 60. On the other side, everything above and to the east of SLO, above the ridge, gets seriously hot. Wine country it is, not my spot. It's comical how the locals call the burned brown summer landscape – golden. The wind and sun cook the whole region in late May. The coastal summer is lovely. It feels like vacation. I rarely wear my previous "bay area uniform" puffy jacket.

The fresh and gloomy autumn reminded me that I'm not a creature made for this climate. I'm increasingly convinced that aligning DNA to climate, thus location, is the future - instead of the current global dream of mild weather all year round sold by Hollywood. That aside - There is a lot to love about the central coast weather, it's just a tinge too warm for my preference. I feel like a true wealthy coastal elite. Very comfy, so much so I'm afraid of becoming soft and incapable of living in any harsher condition (classic tough guy).

Noise

Back in the Berkeley hills, I was already noticing (and complaining) about the constant buzz of the freeway and distant Bart. I never fully acclimated to urban living. Silence can be found. Here the nights, weekends, and holidays are truly quiet. Cal Poly students might be rowdy but it’s a relatively small crowd.

Moreover, since becoming a father I cannot live without Earplugs. From colics to big emotions, and now the tall ceilings and lack of sound dampening, my hearing needs help. Our house is a cathedral in which my 2-year-old son reverberated the word "tractor" with various degrees of intensity.

We didn't see it coming. The airport looked far enough on the map. Insulation is great but the vibration and sounds of a full-size Boeing are noticeable, to say the least. We are used to living with windows open all year round. At noon the sun cast the shadow of the planes right on the house.

Migrating birds nested under the roofs of a few houses. Houses were inhabited or not built the year before, we didn't see that coming either. The cacophony of birds lasted for a solid 4 months, one of which was a tad annoying. The poop covering our windows and facade was a lot more irritating, perhaps a sign of how badly my hearing has degraded.

The house

1500 sqft, tall ceilings, and 20 windows (!!) make the house feel spacious and bright. Everything is squared, white, and of decent quality. The open-concept kitchen is our favorite part and embodies everything positive about the house build and design.

We still haven't decorated at all. Not plants, TV, or fancy furniture. Initially due to baby roaming, but now we're used to easy cleanup and the plain look. We have time and trying to tame the decoration impulse as our very (very) young boys will predate in the space for a while before being understanding of civilized living.

We got the upgraded hardwood floor. It looks good to our eyes used the charmingly aged floorings of Berkeley's 100-year-old houses. This is so easy to clean (how do people manage babies on carpet?). It is very HARD though. My feet are feeling it – an all-day-shift-nurse sole soreness. Only a sensible rotation between barefoot, padded slippers makes this unnatural surface bearable.

A dedicated office is luxurious but not a panacea. The camper folding bed in there is used by our rare guest more often than for my initially intended workday naps. The extra room is very nice for guests, you all were right.

We have so much storage begging to be filled. All the conditions for the entropic process of accumulation are met. We have a garage, we bought a car. A large living room, we bought a (modest) couch… I’m hopeful that our values will keep us in check. Costco is a mile away. I’m scared.

Money

My current employer, GitHub, pays addresses and not people. I took a 20% pay cut. I don't regret it but that's not negligible. I was hoping the downgrade would bring the message home: relax about money, you're fine. It partially worked. Less wealth around is appreciable, at least in the immediate surroundings.

The main reason that drew us here is affordability. Berkeley was not a viable option for us and the arrival of our first child confirmed our choice to move away from the Bay Area. We could have made it work but at costs that were not sustainable, especially emotionally. Living with a $6000 monthly fixed housing cost, in an expensive, seismically active area with a high-stress job and a family – is a tough sell. I respect all who went for it—thoughts and prayers to the courageous ones who went the remodeling route. We loved Berkeley and our Bay Area days ( I miss the Berkeley Bowl).

I've mentioned multiple times at the park how affordability drew us here which got some amused reactions from locals. SLO is the posh part of the central coast. Which I now confirm. Newcomers like us are exacerbating that. Between cray-rates around 7%, low inventory, and generalized inflation, I empathize with the $90,216 median household income. Once again, we are the gentrifyers.

SLO feels more “normal” when it comes to the local economy. Demography is not growing fast compared to larger cities. The money around here is old. Land, property, and legacy businesses are where it's at, it reminds me of Europe.

The cost of living is not much cheaper than in Berkeley. Childcare is, but fewer options and still waitlists. One can overpay for a coffee around here too. It's the Whole food dilemma: Good stuff (when available) is about the same price anywhere.

How is it going?

By no possible stretch, I would label myself as a chill guy. SLO made this crystal clear by contrast. Osmosis has not happened yet. Either folks seem unbearably chill or exhibit a phony relaxed attitude fueled by financial comfort. This range is crude as a result of limited interactions – or maybe I’m not primed for such a place. My senses and intellect have nothing to complain about. Goodies abound. People are nice. The lure of socialism and selective memory makes me nostalgic for France. An image that is seriously fading. French countryside medium cities are just a different flavor of the industrialism here. I don’t feel much for the place. That saddens me, without tears.

It’s sad because SLO County is closer to my (irrelevant yet anchored) romantic ideal. In retrospect, I can see that I was hoping to find a slower, more relaxed, version of myself. It hasn’t fully happened yet. A few golden moments have punctured the flow of my usual neurosis. I can sense what slower means. I could be a couple of sunset walks or a decade away from it.

← Index / Published on 2024-11-24