The Day of Rest.

 

I always thought 14 would make more sense.

Monday

I woke up morning as I have every other morning, at 3pm. I am kidding.  That was only for a couple days until Thursday I slept 13 hours to catch up from the jetlag and travel. Today I woke up as I have the other mornings to the white northern light sneaking through my blinds, the sounds of birds chirping and a soft breeze and the smell of cigarettes. I am not in Kansas anymore.

The sound of the birds, the breeze, and the kids playing on the playground below my window is deafening because in comparison to the states, the town has no real noise. There is no traffic to speak of, and thanks to strict noise regulations there is hardly any construction, generators running or loud industrial buildings. The streets aren’t clean; they are immaculate, intact, and traveled mostly by bike. 

I thought Davis had a lot of bikes but though this town had only 30,000 people many of them don’t even own a car. Everywhere I go there are packs of kids cruising around, families with young children in basket type seats on the parents handlebars or people on their normal work commute. It’s like a utilitarian Disney land but instead of your admission, this lifestyle is funded by a 19% yes, nineteen percent sales tax. That last sentence makes me want to write all about all conversations about the philosophical and governmental differences between here and the states but I will reserve that for another time when I have more to base my conclusions on.