Folding laundry under the stars

A thread seems to be emerging from my posts and it has to do with the world around me. Like I said in my previous post - or, perhaps, implied - the surrounding landscape continues to amaze me and transforms the ordinary moments of my life in Baja into something extraordinary or, at the very least, something that doesn't suck.

Take, for example, this evening. 

I got home early from work and walked down to the beach for a little exercise. More than most days, todays' sunset was taken out of a 19th century painting: an orange sunset and a blue sky speckled with a few gray clouds tinged with pink from the sun. At one point, a sliver of the moon became visible, putting the entire scene beyond description. 

I alternately walked and ran down the beach. A beach, I might add, where no one could be seen for miles. 

I came home to find my friends who were eager to return to a taqueria (taco house) in town they found last week. La Poblana makes damn good tacos. In an open-air taco shack, we feasted on homemade corn tortillas with carne asada and pastor. All on a balmy night.  Good food, good friends, good feeling.

When we returned, I realized that I had not taken down the laundry that I had hung several hours earlier. It was 10pm, but it was such an incredible night and it was a perfect excuse to be outside. The stars were out and the Milky Way was visible.  

The beauty. The silence. The gentle breeze.The folding of towels.  

How do you emotionally respond when you are performing the necessary, mundane things in your life and you find yourself below a sparking sky? It's an odd moment, to say the least, especially when you are able recognize the humor of it all. And its beauty. 

Starry Starry Night in Baja

At night, here in Todos Santos, all I seem to do is look up. At the stars - lots of them. On some nights, I can see the Milky Way and it is sight that renders me speechless. Not only is it entirely new to me but it is also deeply moving. How could it not be?

With these kinds of vistas, it is easy to find yourself asking questions about the world or the universe. As simple and cliche as it may seem, I often look up and wonder about our place in the cosmos and creation. You don't get these kinds of thoughts looking up in Los Angeles. With nothing to look up at, there's really no point, is there?

I grew up in Los Angeles, a city that is lit to the nines and it's located in a region that is lit from sea to desert by street lights, business signs, electronic billboards, car lights and more. You name it, it's lit. Even porch lights contribute to the light pollution. Some homeowners require klieg lights to keep the prowlers away, akin to using a hammer to flatten a slow-moving snail.

So when I came to Todos Santos, I was taken aback by the night skies. I can't get enough. After dinner many nights, when my friends and I are outside enjoying a warm Baja night, I often stand and look up. Sometimes I'm lucky enough to see a shooting star. Other nights, I realize that I saw a constellation I had not seen before. When the moon is full or nearly full, I love its effect on the landscape.

It's hard to imagine a similar scene taking place in Los Angeles. I am told that when the 1994 Northridge earthquake hit, we had dark skies for a day or two, and many saw the night sky as they had never seen it before.

There's a slower pace of life here and it is certainly tied to the landscape and, by landscape, I also include the skies. The beaches, the surrounding desert, the dusty roads, the cactus and star-filled nights put you in a different place. Sure, I sometimes miss the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles, but there's something to be said for an environment and a way of life that give you moments of pause and reflection. How can you not appreciate that?