Nomadic Academic Experiment: Part 1

Published: October 05, 2024

I’m currently pursuing my PhD in Demography from Berkeley, a journey I began four years ago. Now, with the flexibility to work remotely since I’m no longer taking classes, I’ve decided to live closer to my family and fiancé in San Diego. However, I still want to maintain my professional connections and enjoy the enriching environment Berkeley offers.

To make this balance work, I’ve opted for a small RV to facilitate my trips between San Diego and Berkeley. Initially, I parked it in a guarded lot in Oakland, but unfortunately, it was broken into. They stole items like the car battery and shower head—even my underwear!

Despite these challenges, I’m committed to making this RV adventure a success, documenting my experiences as I travel back and forth.

Today marks the first real “pilot” of this experiment, and I’m using this blog to document my journey from Oakland to San Diego. I’ll share my favorite places to park and what I learn along the way. Once home, I’ll make necessary repairs to make the RV livable.

I created this blog series to document my travels—primarily for myself, as a way to look back and reflect, but also for anyone planning a similar trip. Inevitably, it will become a reflection of my over-analytical mind, always trying to quantify everything and searching for meaning in everything.

My Holy Rules of Where to Park

The drive from San Diego to the Bay Area is quite the journey—about 8 hours long! For those not familiar with California’s vastness, this might come as a surprise since it doesn’t even cover the entire state.

The Holy Rules of Parking System

To make this RV adventure feasible and enjoyable, I’ve established some essential criteria for parking spots:

Cheap: If it’s not affordable, the whole experiment loses its purpose. Driving up and down the coast needs to be cost-effective compared to flying and staying in hotels.
Convenient: Proximity to civilization is crucial for emergencies and access to essentials like internet and charging stations for my laptop.
Safe: Peace of mind is non-negotiable. I need to feel secure wherever I park.
Scenic/Cool Stuff Nearby: To make the journey worthwhile, the spot should offer beautiful views or be close to interesting activities.

My general ranking system assigns a maximum of 5 stars with these weights:

Cheap (weighted 0.9)
Convenient/Comfort (not weighted 0.9)
Safe (weighted 1.6)
Adventurous (weighted 0.8)
Pet-Friendly (weighted 0.8)

For parking spots in the Bay, I add this additional metric (weighing adventurous to .5):

Campus-Distance (weighted 1.2)

Bay Area

Finding a place to park an RV in the Bay Area can feel like a high-stakes game of hide and seek! With the region’s high rate of homelessness, finding a spot is tricky. The police are on the lookout for unauthorized parkers, and let’s just say some of the nighttime street vibes can be a bit too adventurous for my taste. Navigating these challenges is all part of the RV adventure, adding an extra layer of excitement (and caution) to my Bay Area visits.

Dumbarton Quarry Campground

Last night, I stayed at Dumbarton Quarry Campground on the Bay. It’s an excellent spot with running water, a camping store, and easy hookups. The people are respectful, and it’s simple to park—important for me as I’m still getting used to driving the RV. The scenery is tranquil, with rolling green hills and the faint sound of the ocean. There’s even Wi-Fi! Nearby are a Starbucks and other restaurants.

This location is perfect for visiting the Bay Area and getting to Berkeley easily. However, it takes about two hours to reach campus: a 45-minute bike ride to the nearest BART station, a 30-minute BART ride, and then a walk. Despite the distance, it’s convenient, safe, clean, and affordable—a stress-free option compared to worrying about break-ins or parking issues.

Overall, while the travel time is a downside, the peace of mind makes it worthwhile when I need a reliable place to stay.

This parking spot gets the following rankings:

Cheap: 4 out of 5
Convenient: 4 out of 5
Safe: 5 out of 5
Adventurous: 4.5 out of 5
Pet-Friendly: 5 out of 5
Campus-Distance: 2.5 out of 5

Giving it an overall score of: 4.18

Gilroy

My first stop on the drive down is Gilroy, CA—famous for its garlic festival where you can find everything from garlic fries to garlic ice cream! It’s also home to the Gilroy Outlets, featuring discounted brand stores like Nike and North Face, and Gilroy Gardens, a charming place with unique plants and rides. While I’m not a rollercoaster fan, it could be a fun stop with my girlfriend. For a more relaxed vibe, there’s Old Gilroy with its city hall that looks like a blend of Spanish deco and classic California.

Parking in Gilroy

Following my holy rules, I’ve identified some promising parking spots:

Starbucks and Walmart Area: This location (geolocation: 37.006523, -121.548415) offers free parking and proximity to essentials like Starbucks and Walmart—perfect for chilling and working. It’s also near Costco for gas and snacks. While it seems relatively safe, it’s not as secure as a designated RV lot since someone could potentially tamper with my stuff when I’m away.

Although not particularly scenic, it’s close to a few scenic areas, including downtown and the rolling hills as backdrops to endless farms. For activities, San Ysidro Park is a short 7-minute bike ride away—not overly exciting but pleasant enough. Old Gilroy is about a 12-minute bike ride, offering more to explore.

To get a better sense of the location, I decided to ride my bicycle to the city hall in Old Gilroy. Google Maps, my trusty guide, led me down a forbidden road, complete with closed gates and chains, marked for authorized personnel only. Naturally, I followed Google’s directions—after all, I’m just a humble servant of the Google overlords! My consciousness is infused with their technology, and my body is but a vessel to carry out their grand plans… Wait, where was I? Oh yes, the path to city hall.

Google Maps took me onto a dirt road behind Walmart, where I immediately noticed a man’s bare foot sticking out from under a tree’s shade. I pretended not to see it and rode on, only to find myself in what seemed like a village of unhoused people. Tarps served as roofs, cardboard as walls—some structures were more solid. One even had a gas generator with an extension cord running to another “unit.” It was striking how, on the other side of the fence supporting these makeshift homes, there were endless shopping centers filled with people oblivious to this hidden mini-civilization.

As I rode in the Gilroy heat, I felt concerned for their well-being and wondered about their lives. What series of events led them to be where they were? Did they struggle with addiction or mental health issues? Or did they face an unfortunate financial mishap and adapt to their situation? Someday, I hope to delve deeper into these questions by speaking with some of the people in these situations to gain a better understanding.

As I continued my ride, Google Maps decided to send me onto a semi-busy highway—because. I’m obligated to follow these directions! Again, I was struck by the contrast between this area and where I’d just been. While not metropolitan, it was certainly urban. I passed fruit stands with hand-written signs (10 avocados for $1, Sweet Corn, Fresh Strawberries) until one caught my eye: “We sell garlic ice cream.”

Naturally, I had to try it. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as I expected—mostly because there was much less garlic than anticipated. The garlic added very little to the overall flavor of the ice cream. I’d say we should probably keep garlic out of vanilla ice cream, but then again, how else would roadside vendors lure in curious adventurers like myself eager for new experiences to post online?

Places like Gilroy really highlight the need for demographers to be considere of how they label areas as either urban or rural in research. Within a single bike ride, the city of Gilroy transitions from a bustling regional attraction to one of the most rural areas in California. A county urban continuum might be a better approach, but an even more effective measure could be at the zip code level. Although zip codes aren’t officially geographic units, they’ve been used as such for so long that they’ve essentially become one.

As I rode back, I saw the spot where I parked in a different light. It’s not about despising the unhoused; rather, it’s about understanding that when people are placed in disadvantaged situations, we can’t blame them for acting out of desperation to obtain resources that society has failed to provide—like mental health treatments and shelter. And around this spot, there were many disadvanted people that otherwise wouldn’t have been seen (and also it was too freaking hot).