I've been here for five days now and I love Long Beach. (Surprisingly, there are lots of blacks and latinos here.) I expected Long Beach to be mostly white. I love the weather here. When the sun goes away, so does the heat. When the sun is out, it's beautiful. Palm trees sway lazily in the breeze while homeless people push carts across the street and hipsters bike around, showing off their colorful glasses, strange haircuts and curled mustaches. Down some streets are the cutest vintage shops I've ever seen, delicious restaurants and bike racks worth taking touristy pictures near.
Patrick and I walked around a lot. By the beach, down streets, everywhere. I haven't been exploring by myself just yet. Some parts of Long Beach are isolated (and therefore dangerous) at night. My brain is keeping me from exploring those areas, even in the daytime. Still, I may visit the beach on my own. Look back into the shops I saw. Perhaps buy a vintage dress to take back with me.
Most of my time here has been spent making coiled bowls, actually. They take a ridiculously long time, but I enjoy quiet, lengthy activities.
Patrick and I attract attention when we walk, holding hands. Some stares and angry looks, some smiles and once a thumbs up. Strange how the past affects us even now. It's almost silly how a white male and black female elicit such strong emotion from some by simply walking down the street.
Long Beach is a very plural place. There is night life for those who desire it, also yoga and the beach, stores filled with characters and treasures long forgotten. I've never considered Southern California a place I may want to live, but as of now, I'm officially interested.
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