My co-workers in San Jose have a few nice things going for them. First, and likely foremost, for most, is San Jose is in California. That means it’s unusually warm. By Toronto standards, 20 degrees Celsius (that’s 68 degrees Farenheit, you Yankees you) in the middle of November is positively balmy. If this is November, I can’t wait to see summer, and I can probably accept January and February with no fuss.
There’s one other thing that’s instantly and casually apparent (besides the temperature). Mountains. Everywhere. Although there are probably countless wonderful sights and vistas around that area (none of which I had time to visit during my week-long trip), I am instantly floored by a panorama of mountains surrounding the city, rather large peaks of earth and trees, rising in the distance. Having grown up in the flat-lands of Ontario (i.e. Toronto), this is quite exciting for me. We drive on the freeway, my eyes transfixed on these giants looming in the distance — so large that fifteen minutes of driving does little to change their size. Amazing.
My co-workers are the real lucky ones. The view from the third floor, facing south, of our headquarters in San Jose is gorgeous at 5 o’clock on a crisp and clear Friday afternoon in November. All framed by a bank of floor-to-ceiling glass windows, a beautiful scene hangs like a painting just outside. A tree-lined valley of buildings, houses, parks and roads stretches before you, to the horizon. A mountain to the right, earthy tones glowing red in a Californian sunset. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and I’m instantly envious.