As my first year at Pitzer College came to a close, I packed my car to the gills. A wall of too many things made looking out the back window impossible, and I began a transformative journey to my home in northern California — saying goodbye to the year, a partner and friends that would not be there when I returned. At that moment, I saw the cloud looming on the horizon: the sophomore slump.
The excitement of my first year dissipated and a funk of existentialism appeared as I prepared myself for the ride. Feeling melodramatic, I questioned if where I wanted to go was realistic, if I had wasted the year and if my scattered approach was stranding me.
I knew that my second year would look nothing like my first. The landscape of my friendships would change. The way I would be able and want to spend my time would undergo a metamorphosis into something new and inconceivable, yet familiar to me.
To help me through this journey, I returned to a Claremont institution that had grounded me throughout my first year, Petiscos, a taco counter peeking out of an alley by the Metrolink station. With their behemoth chorizo and egg burrito in one hand and the wheel in the other, I felt rooted in the community that I had built here, knowing that I would look forward to coming back despite knowing how my experience would change.
Petiscos was there for me again and again during my freshman year. Reminding me of the reasons that I was here, showing me what I wanted, Pesticos was a refuge for me at the 5Cs. Every time I wander into the village, my mind pulls me towards Petiscos and the memories that live there.
I discovered this beloved taco joint during orientation. After a mission to a climbing gym, a group of my peers and I decided to grab burritos and walked back to campus. I remember a clear feeling of familiarity settling with me as I walked, behemoth nopales burrito in hand, with people that I would soon call my close friends.
We went through the Walker Free Room after learning about its existence from a stranger who had just scored skis, and for the first time, I felt the campuses begin to become places of comfort. As I finished the burrito on the walk back, I felt a sense of belonging and pride.
As the year continued, I integrated myself into the community. Navigating the confusion of living within eye and ear-shot of most of my class; shaving my roommate after he came home with lice from a frisbee trip; figuring out the quasi-independence of college life.
I returned to Petiscos with my parents. The soft din of music drifted out of the tiny kitchen into the backyard dining space, creating an environment where I could focus and review the things that I loved at Pitzer: nightly bouts of wiffle ball, Pitzer Green Bike Program’s nude bike ride, Post-Apartheid Literature, acapella and sports photography. It was a live dissection of my new life here, a serene autopsy that precluded shame or shyness. The backyard ambience opened me up, allowing me to access a vulnerability with my parents while building a portrait of my life in Claremont.
Pestiscos worked it out of me, and I know that I will find myself wandering back to First Street to be grounded, to find introspection or just a way to introduce a friend to the Claremont community. Finding a place like Petiscos, where you can go when you need solace in your space, is essential.
Venture out and explore. Find your own Petiscos. My experience in Claremont and love for these schools would suffer if this place, its graffiti and oversize burritos weren’t there for me when I needed them.
With this in mind, I put my overstuffed car into gear, and said goodbye to a year that welcomed me warmly and knew that, despite the imminent reinvention of my college life, I could rely on the security and home I have in Petiscos.
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