I'm back on the #68 bus from Capitola to Santa Cruz. I was waiting at the Santa Cruz Metro Center for my ride back to Capitola, when a couple walked by. The man said, "They should do something about this place—it's a disaster!" The man sitting next to me shrugged and said, "What do you expect, it's a bus terminal."

I must agree—I don't think I've ever spent time in an attractive bus center. During one of our long "rides" around the country, Bob and I waited for a bus in the downtown Minneapolis transit center from 10:30 pm to 5:00 am. It was February, it was dark and cold, the terminal was deserted, and no one was in charge. The doors were locked from the inside to keep out the homeless and the transients who, needless to say, all wanted in. They came by regularly, pounded on the doors, and shouted, "Let us in!!" We didn't, and felt bad.

You see a different scene out the window when you're riding on the bus. Just walk a couple blocks from the Santa Cruz "disaster" and you'll find charming boutiques, high-end clothing stores, cozy coffee bars, and festive holiday lighting. Closer to the terminal are the bail bonds, tattoo parlors, and community outreach centers.

Santa Cruzarians certainly have style. Living here must either force or allow people to be unique. This is a land of strange hats, unexpected bare legs, unusual bags for both men and women, fashionable footwear, colorful scarves, and an abundance of hair. Capitola leans more toward the beachy look: surfer dudeness, baggy shorts, hoodies, flip flops, skateboard attire, and bare feet. (What is it with surfers and no shoes? They can walk over gravel with nary a wince.)

Anyways, it's delightful here. I love being able to walk out the door and know that I'll see something unusual. I had a grand time at the Santa Cruz Community Farmer's Market. Open all year round, the seasonal offerings included artichokes, Meyer lemons, canned tomatoes, fresh figs, oysters, honey, and much much more. It would bring a tear to the eye of any locavore.

Baked Artichoke Dip