The sky lit up and rumbled from distant lightning as the patter of rain hit my window. When I first drove out into the dry, dusty plains of West Texas, where dust storms hundreds of feet high can sweep across unabated and coat everything in a fine layer of dirt, rain was the last thing I'd expect to see a lot of.
Since I've arrived in Midland at the end of August, where average temperatures hovered in the high 90s, the temperature has dropped to around 65, the clear blue sky has turned into a dull grey, and the air has gotten thicker with humidity. The skies oscillate between a gloomy Portland-esque covering of grey clouds to spectacular towers of soft white spires rising miles into the air.
Midland has been described by my roommate Lance as a chili bowl when it comes to weather. We'll look out into the distance and see massive storm systems trundling towards us, many of them coming down south from Canada along with cold fronts. Grey sheets of rain will fall on the distant plains. But when the storms hit the city limits, they split apart as if Moses stood in the middle of Midland and rammed his staff into the hard packed clay.
But sometime the storms overcome the prophet's will, and Midland gets drenched in a torrential downpour. In a matter of minutes cracked and potholed streets flood as the recently released water finds that it has been caught in the confines of Midland's non-existent drainage system. Suicide lanes, treacherous enough in normal conditions, double as drainage ditches, and unlucky and unaware drives regularly plow into four inches of standing water. Sections of downtown become so flooded that crossing them on foot is simply not an option. During one storm I had to drive all the way around the block just to get access to a downtown office building because an entire block was sunk under a foot of water.
One underpass leading south out of town floods so bad that 16-foot-tall water marks are posted on the pylons so that in a major storm drivers don't turn their vehicle into a submarine.
For most residents driving their pickups and SUVs, fording such watery obstacles isn't much of a problem. For those of us without lifted suspension, we cross ourselves before we go out and hope our bumpers don't meet a watery grave.
The wet weather also doubles as a form of entertainment, with those around me giving advise to avoid certain roads and to be careful going through intersections. Some people suggested I take the 250 Loop (a "highway" that goes around the northern and western edges of town) as the Loop doesn't flood. I braved that storm and took city streets back home. I made it home with my Prius intact.
When the weather gets really bad, I'll post some videos and photos of it. But so far we haven't had severe flooding or lightning strikes... yet.
Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for my next post on Friday Night Lights.
Twitter: @druzin_journo
Website: rdruzin.wix.com/journo
Work: www.mrt.com
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Initiation
My first week in Midland has broken me in. I realized it when I was driving home last night at 10 with my windows down and 81 felt cool. Who knew one could get used to the heat so quickly.
I arrived in Midland absolutely bushed. Nothing prepared me for driving 1,600 miles, especially when over 1,000 of them were in 100+ degree heat through barren scrubland. The first weekend I spent resetting myself, but the first course of action for my landlords/roommates/surprisingly kind and cool people was to fill me with some barbeque.
To clarify who I'm talking about, my landlords are a married couple, Heidi and Levi, who own the house and are remodeling it, and our third roommate is Lance. We also have Hermes, but he's been out of the picture working for most of the time. All are transplants for "the real Northern California" as they call it, and they are as hospitable and they are funny.
So when it came to dinner that first night, they had to have a little debate about which joint to take me to. What would give me a true first taste of the ol' West Texas. They landed on the Texas Roadhouse, a chain establishment thick with the smell of barbecue and sweet rolls (including basket upon basket of free rolls you pick up on your way in). Funny enough, the Roadhouse began in Indiana, but hey, good barbeque is good barbeque.
When I sat down I deferred my choice to my new found friend's best judgement, They suggested anything with ribs, so I chose a pulled pork and 1/2 slab of ribs combo. For a side they suggested a loaded sweet potato, so I obliged.
The food was nothing short of great, and for a chain I was quite surprised. The pulled pork was absolutely delicious and the ribs were also top notch. My "loaded" sweet potato came stuffed with brown sugar and melted marshmallows overflowing like sweet foam.
We took home four boxes full of leftovers from that dinner, and they were every bit as good the next night.
Now, one thing you may be wondering is where is the color on this plate (aside from the corn, of course)? One thing I've realized (and that my roommates agreed with) is that we are supremely spoiled in California with the choices and availability of vegetables. Out here, everything has to be shipped in from east Texas because we are in the middle of no-mans land. Even new local businesses have struggled to fill their orders for fresh veggies and fruit.
I'll dedicate a post to barbeque, but another crucial part of the local cuisine that I've tried is Mexican food. California has spoiled me with arm-width burritos stuffed with everything under the sun and delicious meat to boot (thinking La Costena's chicken mole). If there's one thing I thought I wouldn't be lacking in Texas, it was burritos.
Unfortunately the burritos here seem to be the only thing on a diet. But while their size initially disappointed me, the breakfast burritos are cheap and give just enough filling to keep you going into the afternoon without the food coma. One thing I will say is that the concept of cooking potatoes (whether they be home fries or french fries) seems lost here, and most of them are soft and white.
Today I ended up visiting the Martinez Bakery, a Mexican panaderia chock full of the freshest Mexican baked goods I've ever had. I picked out a pink sugar-coated pastry, a gingerbread looking bit, and a plain muffin. For lunch I ordered a barbacoa (barbeque) torta, a Mexican sandwich, and sat down to try one of the treats.
I decided to go for the pink pastry, which was still warm from the oven and was absolutely delicious, much better than the stale pastries I tried back home. The gingerbread and muffin were underwhelming, but the torta was absolutely delicious. I left a happy man.
I'll be exploring more of the culinary nature of Midland and poking my head into the less traveled areas, but if you'd like to hear about something specific, feel free to ask! As always, thanks for reading.
I arrived in Midland absolutely bushed. Nothing prepared me for driving 1,600 miles, especially when over 1,000 of them were in 100+ degree heat through barren scrubland. The first weekend I spent resetting myself, but the first course of action for my landlords/roommates/surprisingly kind and cool people was to fill me with some barbeque.
To clarify who I'm talking about, my landlords are a married couple, Heidi and Levi, who own the house and are remodeling it, and our third roommate is Lance. We also have Hermes, but he's been out of the picture working for most of the time. All are transplants for "the real Northern California" as they call it, and they are as hospitable and they are funny.
So when it came to dinner that first night, they had to have a little debate about which joint to take me to. What would give me a true first taste of the ol' West Texas. They landed on the Texas Roadhouse, a chain establishment thick with the smell of barbecue and sweet rolls (including basket upon basket of free rolls you pick up on your way in). Funny enough, the Roadhouse began in Indiana, but hey, good barbeque is good barbeque.
When I sat down I deferred my choice to my new found friend's best judgement, They suggested anything with ribs, so I chose a pulled pork and 1/2 slab of ribs combo. For a side they suggested a loaded sweet potato, so I obliged.
The food was nothing short of great, and for a chain I was quite surprised. The pulled pork was absolutely delicious and the ribs were also top notch. My "loaded" sweet potato came stuffed with brown sugar and melted marshmallows overflowing like sweet foam.
We took home four boxes full of leftovers from that dinner, and they were every bit as good the next night.
Now, one thing you may be wondering is where is the color on this plate (aside from the corn, of course)? One thing I've realized (and that my roommates agreed with) is that we are supremely spoiled in California with the choices and availability of vegetables. Out here, everything has to be shipped in from east Texas because we are in the middle of no-mans land. Even new local businesses have struggled to fill their orders for fresh veggies and fruit.
I'll dedicate a post to barbeque, but another crucial part of the local cuisine that I've tried is Mexican food. California has spoiled me with arm-width burritos stuffed with everything under the sun and delicious meat to boot (thinking La Costena's chicken mole). If there's one thing I thought I wouldn't be lacking in Texas, it was burritos.
Unfortunately the burritos here seem to be the only thing on a diet. But while their size initially disappointed me, the breakfast burritos are cheap and give just enough filling to keep you going into the afternoon without the food coma. One thing I will say is that the concept of cooking potatoes (whether they be home fries or french fries) seems lost here, and most of them are soft and white.
Today I ended up visiting the Martinez Bakery, a Mexican panaderia chock full of the freshest Mexican baked goods I've ever had. I picked out a pink sugar-coated pastry, a gingerbread looking bit, and a plain muffin. For lunch I ordered a barbacoa (barbeque) torta, a Mexican sandwich, and sat down to try one of the treats.
I decided to go for the pink pastry, which was still warm from the oven and was absolutely delicious, much better than the stale pastries I tried back home. The gingerbread and muffin were underwhelming, but the torta was absolutely delicious. I left a happy man.
I'll be exploring more of the culinary nature of Midland and poking my head into the less traveled areas, but if you'd like to hear about something specific, feel free to ask! As always, thanks for reading.
Monday, September 1, 2014
Midland, TX
Midland, Texas. People have asked me in the last month why I decided to come out here. I'm not in the oil industry and Midland is... where?
My answer: opportunity.
For me the decision was hard. In the middle of July I left my job at Lifograph, the startup I was working for, to pursue my dream of being a reporter. Within two weeks I had two offers: work at a Palo Alto-based startup as a paid intern, or work for the Midland Reporter-Telegram as their business reporter.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't torn. On the one hand I had the option of staying in Palo Alto while making a decent amount of money. On the other hand I could move to West Texas and jump into journalism head first.
But when MRT gave me the thumbs up, I took it.
Like my other blogs, this one will look to chronicle my experiences living and working as a journalist in the communities I serve. Unlike my other ones, I plan to have this blog span my career.
But before my career started, I had to get to Midland.
My trip spanned four days and took me through California's drought-stricken Central valley, where signs next to I-5 begged people to lobby the government to "Stop the Congress Created Dust Bowl." While some areas by the interstate looked barren, it was surprising to see a fair amount of growth and activity despite the crippling drought that has swept the west coast.
My first stop was Los Angeles, a place I have avoided for years due to my own misconceptions. LA surprised me, full of people and traffic, yes, but also with beauty, good people, and pleasant weather.
The next day I headed east to Phoenix, and once I got past the wind farms around Palm Springs, I nearly fell asleep with boredom. The landscape was stark, with nothing but the severed heads of palm trees surrounding abandoned buildings and, at one point, a strip mall surrounding a 20 floor casino.
And if the lack of anything to look at was bad, the heat just adds insult to injury. During the trip it averaged 90 degrees, and when I left Phoenix at 9:30 am, it was already 93.
El Paso was the next stop. The city shares the border with Ciudad Juarez, which in 2010 saw 3,600 people killed during turf battles between drug cartels. According to a man I met who works on the Mexican side of the border, only about 400 people died last year and, he believes, it is safe enough to go there for pleasure. A metal wall separates the two sides, and reminded me a lot of the similar barrier that I saw in Israel.
If you do happen to find yourself in El Paso, it is a pleasantly surprising city. I didn't have much time to explore, but I found two bars, both with good beer selections and different but nice atmospheres. The first is Craft & Social, in the downtown area. It has ~20 beers on tap and a relaxed atmosphere. The other bar is The Hoppy Monk, which boasts over 60 beers on tap and a boisterous atmosphere. From the Monk's patio you can watch thunderstorms roll in over the foothills while sipping a beer.
From El Paso I did my final leg into Midland, and it was far from what I was expecting. The first two hours were spent among small mesas and rolling hills, and only the last hour or so of my drive did the landscape flatten out into endless plains broken up by a multitude of oil rigs.
Before I got to Midland, I had to stop by Ratliff Stadium, the centerpiece of H.G. Bissinger's 1990 book Friday Night Lights. It was strange to find this stadium on the edge of town, a mile away from its high school with an impressive looking parking lot laid with fresh tar and a press box that could have been at Stanford Stadium. I hope to go to at least one game under the glow of those towers.
Midland has turned out to be a city full of everything I was told it would have: heat, flatness, oil rigs, and a lot of trucks. Needless to say my Prius sticks out like a sore thumb, but no one has given me a hard time for it yet. But I think that this place will have a lot of little surprises in store for me, and I'm excited to find them.
My roommates have been a blast just three days in, showing me good barbeque and hospitality. We're all transplants from California, but they've given me a good start here. I have found it hard to do much during the day due to the heat (regardless if you're in the shade or not) and I'll be glad to get out and start working.
As my job starts I'll continue to post about my experiences, special stories, and whatever else crosses my mind. If you have a questions about something feel free to ask. Until next time, thanks for reading.
My answer: opportunity.
For me the decision was hard. In the middle of July I left my job at Lifograph, the startup I was working for, to pursue my dream of being a reporter. Within two weeks I had two offers: work at a Palo Alto-based startup as a paid intern, or work for the Midland Reporter-Telegram as their business reporter.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't torn. On the one hand I had the option of staying in Palo Alto while making a decent amount of money. On the other hand I could move to West Texas and jump into journalism head first.
But when MRT gave me the thumbs up, I took it.
Like my other blogs, this one will look to chronicle my experiences living and working as a journalist in the communities I serve. Unlike my other ones, I plan to have this blog span my career.
But before my career started, I had to get to Midland.
My trip spanned four days and took me through California's drought-stricken Central valley, where signs next to I-5 begged people to lobby the government to "Stop the Congress Created Dust Bowl." While some areas by the interstate looked barren, it was surprising to see a fair amount of growth and activity despite the crippling drought that has swept the west coast.
My first stop was Los Angeles, a place I have avoided for years due to my own misconceptions. LA surprised me, full of people and traffic, yes, but also with beauty, good people, and pleasant weather.
UCLA
Not a proud statistic. Who's #1? Florida.
The next day I headed east to Phoenix, and once I got past the wind farms around Palm Springs, I nearly fell asleep with boredom. The landscape was stark, with nothing but the severed heads of palm trees surrounding abandoned buildings and, at one point, a strip mall surrounding a 20 floor casino.
"Indio and other habitations"
And if the lack of anything to look at was bad, the heat just adds insult to injury. During the trip it averaged 90 degrees, and when I left Phoenix at 9:30 am, it was already 93.
El Paso was the next stop. The city shares the border with Ciudad Juarez, which in 2010 saw 3,600 people killed during turf battles between drug cartels. According to a man I met who works on the Mexican side of the border, only about 400 people died last year and, he believes, it is safe enough to go there for pleasure. A metal wall separates the two sides, and reminded me a lot of the similar barrier that I saw in Israel.
Looking into Mexico.
If you do happen to find yourself in El Paso, it is a pleasantly surprising city. I didn't have much time to explore, but I found two bars, both with good beer selections and different but nice atmospheres. The first is Craft & Social, in the downtown area. It has ~20 beers on tap and a relaxed atmosphere. The other bar is The Hoppy Monk, which boasts over 60 beers on tap and a boisterous atmosphere. From the Monk's patio you can watch thunderstorms roll in over the foothills while sipping a beer.
From El Paso I did my final leg into Midland, and it was far from what I was expecting. The first two hours were spent among small mesas and rolling hills, and only the last hour or so of my drive did the landscape flatten out into endless plains broken up by a multitude of oil rigs.
Welcome to West Texas
Midland has turned out to be a city full of everything I was told it would have: heat, flatness, oil rigs, and a lot of trucks. Needless to say my Prius sticks out like a sore thumb, but no one has given me a hard time for it yet. But I think that this place will have a lot of little surprises in store for me, and I'm excited to find them.
My roommates have been a blast just three days in, showing me good barbeque and hospitality. We're all transplants from California, but they've given me a good start here. I have found it hard to do much during the day due to the heat (regardless if you're in the shade or not) and I'll be glad to get out and start working.
As my job starts I'll continue to post about my experiences, special stories, and whatever else crosses my mind. If you have a questions about something feel free to ask. Until next time, thanks for reading.
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