Why I Ate a Churro in a Town That Sweats More Than a Sauna and Felt Like a Lost Soul

i remember the first time i saw that town. it was like waking up in a movie where the director forgot to tell you the script. the sign said ‘welcome to mendocino’ in a font that looked like someone spray-painted it on a wall with a half-empty soda can. the weather here is that constant 23 degrees, but forget it. it’s humid as a gym sock in a sauna, and i checked my phone 12 times just to confirm if the humidity sensor was broken. turns out, it’s 97% humid. that’s not weather that’s a tropical fish trapped in a fanny pack.



so i wandered around with no plan. that’s what vintage clothes pickers do. we don’t ask for directions, we ask strangers for vintage t-shirts. this town has a market where every stall sells either second-hand flannel or conspiracy theories. i ended up with a jacket that smells like rain and regret. i asked a guy if it was authentic. he said, ‘you smell it. if it doesn’t smell like 1998, it’s not authentic.’ i smoked a cigarette outside a bar later. the bartender told me some locals think the jacket is cursed. i didn’t ask why.



the map i found is sketchy. if you Google ‘mendocino map 2023,’ you’ll see a bunch of people complaining about the same crumbling road. i followed it anyway. it was covered in graffiti that looked like a toddler tried to paint with spoons. i took a picture of it. here’s one of the graffiti:

i heard that the neighbors here are either really chill or really judging. one old woman told me over a fence that if you park your car in her driveway, she’ll replace your tires with bottle caps. i didn’t check. i got too distracted by a street artist painting a mural of a dancing potato. it was absurd. the locals call him ‘panic paint’ because he apparently vanished last week. no one knows where he is. some said he’s in europe, others said he’s just a ghost now. i told someone i heard that, and they laughed. said it’s safer to believe the dancing potato story.



the weather here is like a lullaby you can’t escape. i checked again. it’s still 23.37, same as when i arrived. feels like i’m in a time loop. or a sauna that’s too sticky. the pressure is 1009, which sounds like a number a hacker would use. but here, it’s just the air complaining about humidity. i tried to take a photo of a cloud. it looked like a melted face. i captioned it ‘nature’s art, probably.’



if you get bored, the nearby hills are just a short drive away. last night, i saw a guy biking up one with a telescope. he was trying to spot aliens. i thought he was wasted. someone told me that town is called ‘alienes’ and the mayor is a retired astrophysicist. i didn’t believe him. but then i saw a UFO-shaped mural on a gas station. that’s when i started to think maybe i should’ve taken the alien claim seriously.



reviews here are all rumors. i asked a drunk at a hostel what not to do. he said, ‘don’t trust the vegan restaurant. they put spinach in everything, even the hot chocolate.’ i tried it. it was called ‘spinach heaven.’ i got food poisoning. the reviews online confirm this. on TripAdvisor, it’s 1 star with a photo of a limp leaf. on Yelp, someone wrote, ‘they made me regret being human.’ i think they’re joking. or they’re told.



i almost booked a hostel here. until i heard a neighbor argue with a pigeon. it was loud. really loud. i thought the pigeon was a spy. turned out, it was just a neighbor yelling about rent. i walked away. i don’t know if i’ll come back. maybe. the town is small enough to feel like a character in a story. i almost named a photo album ‘the time i met a cursed jacket and a dancing potato.’ but i didn’t. too messy.



i’ll leave with a churro in my hand and a story that’s 70% true, 30% made up. if you ask locals, they’ll say the town is just a dot on a map. but it’s not. it’s a dot with a secret. and that jacket? it still smells like 1998. maybe that’s its power.



stay safe out there. and maybe check the humidity before you arrive. unless you like sweat. in which case, hoodie or no, you’re welcome.

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