2005-11-14

campo

I went with my mom yesterday afternoon to check out some new houses that they just built on the far side of the county. Since we already live in the south bay, we figured that we would take the 94, which takes you further south and then east along the border to Campo, the "town" that this new housing development is in. Southeastern San Diego county is rural--not a string of quaint little towns, but seriously rural without a hint of cuteness. No gentle hippies growing organic produce amid rolling hills and new provincial vinyards here. Or little old town centers where you can buy country clutter and get a nice cappucino. Rural San Diego county is the land of large belt-buckles and poor people paying $20 to get a ride in a monster truck around the walmart parking lot (please note: I did not make that up). And that is just in El Cajon, which because of urban sprawl, has almost become part of the city proper. After the exanding areas immediately outside the city, there is nothing but rocky dirt and mountains with giant white boulders and cactus sticking out of them, like some kind of semi-desert, southwestern nightmare. There aren't really any old towns out there and the reason is immediately evident; the terrain is too rugged--it's obviously too rocky to grow any thing, as well as too dry, and the mountains are too steep for cattle. There was no gold rush here.

So we drove out on the 94, which is really just a twisty mountain road. We drove for an hour and a half, without ever really seeing a town, only to get to this new development that is being touted as "affordable housing" for san diego commuters. That whole idea is wierd. Unless you live on a fixed income, what benefits could you reap? After driving from the backcountry an hour and a half each way to work from your house, what benefit could there be that would not be outwayed by the benefits living in a smaller townhouse in san diego? Or even sucking it up and renting?

There was no town. There was only the housing development, a single diner, some older ranches and the high school. And that is it--everyone drives somewhere else to buy things. We asked the housing development man about it, and he said that they hoped that the town would follow, but there were no garantees. He noted that you can get anything you wanted to eat at the nearby indian casino. My mom was actually really tempted, because she is on a fixed income and hates our house here. They were almost half the price of a comparable house in San Diego, a city she has never really cared for. She likes the country and doesn't necessarily want to take care of a big yard and is afraid of buying an older house that already has problems. The views of the mountains were incredible. But they were these big houses on these little lots, and you could tell that the developer wanted as high a square footage as they possibly could squeeze out of the property they bought--so much so that they didn't put in sidewalks. The juxtapostition of these little lots and their narrow streets with the expansiveness of the mountains was something to see. The cramped little development seemed even more miserly, since all around it there was so much space. We drove back a different way, where you could see the trail of development that eventually lead there, all around the mountains to the north, but it was still very strange.

xanthium at 11:07 a.m.

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