encinitas, or: how i learned to stop worrying and love the humidity

i've been in encinitas for three days and i still don't know what to do with my hands. i came here thinking i'd find some zen, but instead i found humidity so thick you could cut it with a spreadsheet. the weather app says it's 14.05°C, but the feels-like is 13.73 and the humidity's at 85% - basically i'm living in a damp conference room with a great view. pressure's steady at 1015, whatever that means. actually it means the air is heavy and my hair's decided to become a permanent frizz. the locals call it 'the marine layer' and it rolls in like a low-budget fog machine. i tried to read a book on the beach and the pages curled up in protest. note to self: kindle is a better investment for coastal towns.

here's the exact spot i'm talking about (in case you want to deep-dive into the coordinates):

i suppose i should be impressed by the endless ocean, but i keep comparing everything to my old life. back in consulting, we had a saying: 'if it's not broken, fix it until it is.' here, they have a saying: 'if the tide's out, the reef's out.' i'm not sure which is more terrifying.

the town is, surprise, not in the glossy brochure sense. it's a patchwork of surf shops, vegan cafes, and houses that look like they were built by someone who really loved stucco. i wandered into a place called 'The D izy' (they missed the 's' in 'daisy' on purpose, apparently) and ordered a cold brew. the receipt printed a long string: 1840019352. i asked the barista about it - she said 'oh that's just the transaction id, it's random.' random? 1840019352? that's not random, that's a code. maybe it's the frequency of the local ghost, because later i saw the same digits spray-painted on a utility box near the railroad tracks. i'm not saying it's a conspiracy, but i'm also not not saying it.

i hopped on the 101 bus (that's the coastal route) and noticed the vehicle number plate read 5364663. not the route, just a metal tag on the dash. i asked the driver what it meant. he just shrugged and said, 'that's the bus's soul number, man.' i'm starting to think i've stumbled into a simulation where numbers follow you around.

as for actual attractions, i've been told the best fish tacos are at 'Rudy's' on the coast. but a guy at the surf shop, the one with the faded 'Hang Loose' sticker on his board, whispered: 'if you want the real deal, follow the smell of grilled fish down to the tracks after sunset. there's a food truck named 'The Reboot' that only takes cash and serves the perfect Baja fish taco.' i checked Yelp, and Rudy's has 4 stars with 800 reviews, but the food truck has no online presence except for a single Instagram post from six months ago. i love a good mystery. here's the Yelp link for Rudy's (just in case you want the mainstream option): Rudy's Clearview Drive. i also found a TripAdvisor thread where someone claimed the truck is run by a former Wall Street trader who quit after his bonus got paid in monopoly money. Encinitas Food Trucks Guide. i also read on Encinitas Patch that the food truck's owner used to be a bond trader at a big firm. maybe it's all nonsense, but it adds to the lore.

the beach scene at sunset is something else. i climbed up the cliff at Swami's and got this view:

that's not my photo, obviously - i'm a disgruntled consultant, not a photographer - but it captures the vibe. the actual sunset was a riot of pinks and oranges, like a corporate presentation nobody wanted. i sat there, trying to 'be present', and my brain kept circling back to slide decks. 'what's the ROI of this view?' it asked. probably negative, given the cost of the Uber ride here.

the town itself is spread out, and if you get a bird's-eye view (like this one):

you can see how the coastline snakes and the neighborhoods bunch up against the hills. it's a nice layout, no gridlock, just winding roads. i tried to rent a bike to cover ground but the shop only had 'fixies' with no brakes. i asked the owner if that's a safety thing. he said 'nope, that's a lifestyle thing.' i'm not sure my insurance would cover that.

nightlife here is mellow. the main street, Highway 101, gets a little buzz after 8 pm but it's hardly a frenzy.

i grabbed a beer at a dive called 'The Lighthouse' (not to be confused with the actual lighthouse) and eavesdropped on a group of locals. they were arguing about whether the new brewery on the corner is 'authentic' or 'gentrified' - turns out the brewery uses a yeast strain cultured from a local homeless guy's beard. i have no clue if that's true but i heard it from three different people, so maybe it's the local legend. someone told me that the ghost of a 19th-century sea captain still wanders the pier, looking for his lost cargo of pickles. apparently he's the reason why every bar here serves pickled everything. that's either a great marketing gimmick or a persistent rumor. either way, i'm sticking to the tacos.

the other day i decided to explore inland. i drove to escondido, which is about a 20-minute drive east. it's a whole different vibe: ranches, industrial parks, a casino. the contrast is stark. you can go from smelling saltwater and coconut sunscreen to dust and diesel in under half an hour. if you get bored of the coastal chill, escondido's got a Repo Depot museum and a winery that does 'wine and paint' nights. i might check it out just for the novelty.

speaking of which, i also heard that the neighboring town of Cardiff-by-the-sea has a secret lagoon that only appears at king tides. but i'm not sure if that's real or just something a drunk surfer told me at 2 am. the best part about this place is the overlap between reality and myth. it's like being in a consulting workshop where everyone's data is made up and the conclusions are predetermined. except here, the deliverable is a tan (or a sunburn, in my case).

i tried to work remotely from a cafe, but the wifi was slower than a snail on sedatives. i'm a consultant; i need bandwidth. i asked the owner about it and he said 'we have bandwidth, man, it's just... spiritual.' i packed up and left. sometimes the lack of corporate infrastructure is actually a relief. no more forced synergies. i can just sit and watch the tide come in and out, and that's a metric that actually makes sense: ebb and flow. predictable, yet always changing.

the numbers keep haunting me. remember 1840019352? i saw it again on the side of a public restroom, written in sharpie. and 5364663 showed up as the locker combination at the gym. i'm not superstitious, but if i ever need a PIN, i'm using those. they seem to be the keys to encinitas' hidden layer.

anyway, i should probably go find that food truck before the tide changes. i'll circle back to this post later, maybe when the humidity dips below 80%. until then, keep your numbers close and your spreadsheets closer.

p.s. i almost forgot: the locals have a saying about the weather: 'if you can see the ocean, it's probably a good day. if you can't, it's just marine layer doing its thing.' i checked and it's...there right now, hope you like that kind of thing.

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