Living in a Tourist Town? Author Shares Survival Story
By Cal Orey
I wasn't going to write about this coming Fourth of July but I'm thinking
why the heck not? Welcome. Usually I am a quiet, balanced author-intuitive who
writes articles and books. Three days ago, my life changed as I knew it...
As an intuitive, I sensed chaos was on its way. I prepared as I do before
forecasting a mega quake swarm (2008 Reno-Tahoe) and the Angora
Fire (2007) or thunderstorms (through the summer). I've done Northern
California floods and blizzards before the Tahoe drought, and rough air when I
choose to fly away to Canada and escape. But this Fourth of the July--is a
piece of work.
On the upside, I've lost those three pesky pounds thanks to the Fourth of
July Diet. Blame it on the vacationers here at the Lake. My street no longer
looks like it once did. It is an Old-Tahoe-style neighborhood but the locals
have managed to keep their homes clean and neat. Not so right now.
A Scene Out of Twister
Last night it looked like a scene out of "Twister"--and I was
waiting for a flying cow to pay me a visit.
Dogs, young and old, were running loose up and down the street day and
night. Cars, cars, cars everywhere. Clothes and towels, chairs, people galore
were everywhere. And the noise factor? Hot tubs bubbling, screaming, laughing,
sirens...
Ugh, I feel sick to my stomach. Sure, I get it. I live in a
"tourist town"--get used to it. But you see, the intensity of holiday
events never comes inland to the neighborhood as much as it is this year.
Well, we do hear fireworks and live music concerts but I and my companion
animals have become desensitized to it. Sorta.
I've learned to stock up on food and water, have a low profile, and wait
until the storm is over. This time the storm of unruly pets and their people
overflowed into my world. RVs, flood lights (night and day. see "Lakeview
Terrace" and how irate neighbors become when there's big balls of sunshine
in their bedroom), tacky picnic table umbrellas, one flag, and a car lot is
what I see when I peek outside the windows.
Tourist Town Needs Tourists’ Money
So you may be thinking: "The town needs tourists'
money"--but I do not get paid from the tourists. It's locals, like me, who
are the bread and butter for the locals who offer services year-round during
off-season. Meanwhile, as I sit here working at home (feeling captive, love to
swim or walk the dog but I'm intimidated so I will not do either) I am done
fighting. It is out of my control.
As I look at photos of trips I've taken I think: "I didn't trash the
city or town or do insensitive things." I do not get drunk, let my dog run
loose, scream and party all day and night (however I wish I did at this
moment). So my Aussie chews his bones in between chaos and I try to
finish the book that is due in less than two months but I cannot lie. I'm
feeling frustrated and unbalanced. The town has been invaded and tourists
to vacation homeowners are acting selfish and insensitive to people who live
here. But, but, but...
It's eerie out there (almost feeling like Will Smith's character in
"I Am Legend" and sense "dark seekers" (mean zombie people
and dogs are outside when it gets dark at night). Ready to board of all the
windows. Besides one local's dog who jumped the fence (I felt so sorry for
her--the shepherd's blue eyes met mine--she was scared) and her concerned owner
rescued the dog. I feel for these pets and their people. Tonight we get 25
minutes of loud fireworks, after all, it's the time when we celebrate and our
sensitive dogs and cats flee. And that's what I should have done. One more
thing: My Aussie is barking out in the living room. I am allowing it because
it's an insensitive tourist walking by my cabin with a wayward off-leash canine
and ignoring our town laws. Live and let live? What else can I do. “Go ahead,
boy bark!” I say and turn up the volume to the stereo.
Summer
Fun…Join Them—Or Not
A few days ago, I read an article online about how a
popular town in Europe, Venice, doesn’t want any more tourists. After all, too
many people create traffic congestion, air pollution, lines in stores, and a
quiet, quaint town of paradise can turn into a nightmare.
After 20 years of living at Lake Tahoe I became a
“clacker”—refer to the film “The Devil Wears Prada”. No, I don’t wear heels but
I’ve joined the fun-loving vacation homeowners. That means on weekends I stop
writing. Why bother? I take time to chill: garden, swim, sun, and play with my
furry friends.
I purchased those silly patio umbrellas with solar
lights, faux ivy, lavender flowers, river rock, patio stones, tall trees, and solar
lights. I created an oasis to make my time in season chaos, well, bliss. Oh,
this year it arrived! I purchased earphones to plug into the TV and computer
like being on an airplane. Pondering if I should order a pair for the dog. My
cat, Zen? He’s chill.
And there is the ongoing feud of locals and vacation
home rentals. But that is another story. My mantra: This too shall pass. Autumn.
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