The Brief

Heading into his first semester this fall at Feather River College, Conor Robinson considered camping in a tent after struggling to find a 1-bedroom apartment he could afford.

Larissa Griffith found free housing her first semester, but it came with a catch: She was on call, 24 hours a day, including holidays, at her landlord’s farm.

In the town of Quincy, population 1,580, housing options are sparse for students in this rural community in Northern California. Demand has also grown, especially after the 2021 Dixie Fire, which tore through nearly a million acres of Sierra Nevada mountains and forest — about the size of Rhode Island — and destroyed hundreds of homes across the surrounding Plumas County.

Right after the fire, the state granted the college over $500,000 from the state to design solutions for the worsening student housing crisis, but it was a kind of “false hope,” said Carlie McCarthy, the college’s vice president of student services.

Twice, the school submitted its plans — a $74 million proposal to build over 120 beds for students — and each time, the state Legislature was unable to fund it. The state has promised to help community colleges build housing for their students, but after committing funds to 19 other community college housing projects, the state Legislature tried to delay spending the money in order to close a multi-billion dollar budget deficit. Most of those projects are still moving forward through a new financing mechanism, but the Legislature has effectively run out of money for any other projects.

Feather River College is one of 35 housing proposals that remain in limbo, with no additional state funding available. Those projects include a proposal from Mendocino College, where massive wildfires destroyed hundreds of homes in a community similar to Quincy and Santa Monica College, which submitted its proposal before the Palisades and Eaton fires in Los Angeles.

Santa Monica College is still gathering data about the scope of the fires’ impact on students, but early estimates based on students’ addresses show that around 600 Santa Monica College students were living in an evacuation zone or within areas directly impacted by those fires, said Susan Fila, who oversees students’ health and wellbeing at the college.

The aftermath of the Palisades Fire on Jan. 15, 2024.

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Ted Soqui

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CalMatters

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College presidents across the state say the new housing projects are a long-term solution to wildfire recovery and to the state’s enduring affordability crisis, which has hit community college students hard. In study after study, researchers have found that around 20% of California community college students experience homelessness at some point over the course of a year, and many more struggle to pay rent.

The California Community Colleges Chancellor’s Office, which oversees the state’s 116 community colleges, is asking for $1.1 billion in bond money from the state Legislature this year for affordable housing projects, though those dollars would fund just half of the outstanding proposals. The governor has until July 1 to finalize the 2025-26 budget.

Other competing budget priorities, such as LA wildfires recovery, could take precedence over affordable housing, said Wrenna Finche, the vice president of administrative services at Ohlone College in Fremont, which has failed to secure state funding for two different affordable housing proposals for its Bay Area campuses. “I wouldn’t expect a lot of movement on it this year.”

Fighting for student housing

A few of California’s rural community colleges have offered housing for decades, mostly as a means to mitigate long commutes to school. In Plumas County, some students drive over an hour — on a good day — just to make it to Feather River College. Snowstorms and rock slides frequently close mountain roads, delaying travel even more.

Many community colleges were designed for students who live with their parents and commute to school, but those demographics are changing. Fewer students between the ages of 18 and 22 are enrolling in community college, and those who do enroll often live independently. As a result, demand for housing has grown all across the state, including in coastal areas and in other rural regions, such as the Imperial Valley.

Conor Robinson, a student at Feather River College, talks about the challenges he faced finding a place to live while attending the school in Quincy, on Feb. 12, 2025.

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Fred Greaves

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CalMatters

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Robinson is 36 and enrolled at Feather River College after making a career change. He’s studying ecosystem restoration and applied fire management, the only such program in the state, and wants to continue working on prescribed burns after graduation.

Griffith, 20, is a former foster youth. She moved from the Sacramento area to Quincy in order to follow her dream of running a dude ranch. Feather River College is the only school in the state to offer a bachelor’s degree program in equine and ranch management.

The campus includes horse stables, a fish hatchery and other nods to the Plumas County economy, which relies heavily on logging and outdoor recreation. To meet the needs of students like Robinson and Griffith, the college has multiple dormitories with a total capacity of about 260 students. Unlike the rest of campus, where buildings are carefully designed to blend with the surrounding forest, most of the dorms are purely utilitarian. The buildings are bare, white rectangles, except for a few hints of student life. Cowboy boots and spurs sit outside many doorways; a dirt trail connects the dormitories to class.

Rent is around $500 a month, including utilities. Signups for the upcoming fall semester opened on Feb. 3, but two days later, registration was already full, said Kevin Trutna, the college president. By putting three beds in a single room, the college can house over 300 people, but even then, there’s a waitlist. This semester, he said over 80 students failed to get a campus housing spot.

“As a former foster youth, it’s sink or swim,” said Griffith, who received one of the coveted housing spots in a bedroom she shares with an equine studies major. “Anything I get, I had to fight for.”

By combining four different state and federal grants, plus a private scholarship, she receives more than $20,000 this year in financial aid, which is more than enough to cover the monthly rent. The housing is a significant upgrade, she said, especially compared to her foster home and the previous “free” housing arrangement.

An aerial view from a drone of two dorm buildings tucked between trees on campus at Feather River College in Quincy on Feb. 12, 2025.

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Fred Greaves

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CalMatters

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Robinson wasn’t interested in living in a shared dormitory, which is the only campus housing available, so he found a mobile home off-campus this semester.

“I didn’t feel like I had a choice but to accept the one place that I had found, even though it wasn’t ideal,” he said.

After moving in, he spent hours shampooing the carpets and cleaning up his unit to make it livable, but he said he’s still worried it may be unsafe because of lingering mold and lack of ventilation for the stove. He pays $850 a month, but the landlord wants to move in at the end of April, so he’ll need to find a new place soon.

Finding housing alternatives through RV parks and bond dollars

After Trutna realized the state was unlikely to fund the Feather River College’s next housing development, he called Dayne Lewis, the owner of a local RV park that abuts the campus, to see if the park had additional capacity. Out of the park’s 31 RVs, Lewis said roughly half are students.

“I would fill this place completely with students but the timing doesn’t always work out,” he said. Since the Dixie and North Complex fires tore through Plumas County, many state and federal contractors have moved to Quincy, the largest city in the county, to work on rebuilding the region. Those contractors now compete with students for temporary housing, he said.

River Ranch RV Park resident Emma Hernandez is a student at Feather River College. The school’s campus is a short walk from the RV park in Quincy. Feb. 12, 2025.

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Fred Greaves

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CalMatters

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Antelope Valley College in Lancaster purchased a $9 million plot of land for its proposed housing project, but it now sits empty since state funding fell through, said Jennifer Zellet, the college president. Like administrators at Ohlone College and Santa Monica College, Zellet said she’s exploring a “public-private partnership,” in which a local nonprofit builds and operates a housing development on that land using a portion of regional bond dollars.

These partnerships are a popular but imperfect solution. In Long Beach, where the community college proposed building over 240 units, President Mike Muñoz said he won’t resort to a public-private partnership. Because housing would be run by a private entity, not a college, he said it’s common for these kinds of projects to charge students higher rent. Instead, he said the college plans to rely entirely on local bond dollars, even if that means delays on other campus projects that need bond money, such as a new training center for police officers and firefighters.

Rural parts of the state, such as Plumas and Mendocino counties, have fewer alternatives. The projects are often smaller since there are fewer residents, and as a result, the profit margins are thin, said Mendocino College President Timothy Karas. Both Trutna, the president of Feather River College, and Karas say that they have no bond dollars available.

On a Sunday night at the Mexican restaurant La Popular in Claremont, diners are eating to a soundtrack that starts with cumbia and jumps to J Balvin and Bad Bunny before landing on Luther Vandross.

That’s the aim of DJ collective Compás Discoteca — to bring connection and community through live vinyl mixing at La Popular and El Balcon in Ontario.

How Compás Discoteca was born 

Ricardo Carlos, Elias Ruiz, Albert Piña and Adrian Silva have been friends for about two decades. They all DJ as a hobby and often share music. On a night out in 2024, they saw a sign: a parking space for a “compact car,” minus two letters.

“The C and T are missing — compá. Like, ‘We're compás,’” Carlos said, recounting that night.

A "Compás Discoteca" turntable mat.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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Their DJ collective, Compás Discoteca, was born. “Compás” means “buddies” in Spanish and “Discoteca” means “nightclub."

Seasoning the scene

When Compás Discoteca first formed, the members said Southern California’s vinyl-listening scene was more focused on track selection, letting songs play out in full. The collective wanted to bring more life to the experience by mixing music live.

“It just seemed a little stale,” Silva said. “I feel like we helped to bring some seasoning to that.”

They also wanted to play genres people wouldn’t normally hear together.

“You might hear us jump from funk to cumbia to hip-hop to disco, soul to house. We're just trying to take people on a journey with us,” Silva said.

Each compá takes their turn at the turntables for two 30-minute sets. And each brings their own sound.

Three of the "compás" pose for a picture in between their sets.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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Silva is the “party-starter.” He gets people dancing.

Carlos has a Latin bent, taking influence from his Puerto Rican, Salvadoran and Creole roots.

Ruiz lives for “jaw-drop moments” and brings records he thinks will surprise his fellow DJs.

Piña spins rare world grooves in the funk and boogie vein.

“He probably gets the most Shazams from us and from the audience,” Ruiz said of Piña. “But most importantly, you feel like you're hanging out and with some good music.”

Albert Piña prepares looks through a box of vinyl records during his DJ set at "La Popular" in Claremont.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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Feeding off the energy

Compás Discoteca DJs at El Balcon in Ontario on the first Friday of each month and at La Popular in Claremont on the third Sunday.

The vibes for Sundays are chill, they said, and Fridays are for letting it all loose.

“There's like an energy there, like, ‘Oh, man, we made it through the week.’ We try to feed off of that,” Piña said.

Along Highway 62 in Joshua Tree, a stack of high school lockers holds something the High Desert was missing: a real New York-style bagel.

For that, you have DIY baker Richard Lee to thank.

“I want a bagel. What do I do?” Lee remembered thinking after moving to Twentynine Palms in 2023 from Los Angeles, where he had lived for more than a decade.

The Bagel Portal off Highway 62 in Joshua Tree.

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Richard Lee

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Courtesy 29 Loaves

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It wasn’t just any bagel the born-and-raised New Yorker was craving, but the kind from back home that gives “a little crunch” when you bite into its crust — with a “chewy, softer” inside and a taste Lee calls “ineffable.”

“Like maybe a sourdough or an Italian bread,” he said.

Taught by YouTube, tested by family in New York

Richard Lee converted his garage in 29 Palms to make bagels.

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Courtesy 29 Loaves

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A tinkerer by nature, Lee launched 29 Loaves in early 2024, bringing bagels he handcrafts in his licensed home operation to Twentynine Palms, Joshua Tree and surrounding communities.

“I went to the culinary school of YouTube,” he said, having watched more than 100 videos on how to make a bagel. At first, he relied on his own taste buds as a guide, before sending his creations to his family in New York to taste.

After months of overnight shipping, Lee said, “Even a UPS store is asking me, ‘Why are you doing that?’”

“I know it makes no sense,” he told them. “That's how I operate.”

29 Loaves serves up New York-style bagels to Joshua Tree and other desert communities.

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Courtesy 29 Loaves

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Eventually, his sister gave the thumbs-up. To be extra, extra, extra sure, Lee went to folks living in the desert with New York ties to get their blessing.

“Attention is an ingredient,” Lee said of his bagels. It’s a philosophy he’s honed while running his other business providing IT services, which he now operates remotely.

“Garbage in, garbage out,” he said. “If you make a mistake or something falls on the bagel and marks it, it’ll end up that way as a finished product.”

Why bagels mean so much to him

Lee, whose father is Korean and mother is Brazilian, said his bakery is ultimately about food memories — and draws inspiration from what he ate growing up. The only other baked good 29 Loaves sells is pão de queijo, a gluten-free Brazilian cheese puff he makes.

Richard Lee handmakes New York-style bagels at his home operation.

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Courtesy 29 Loaves

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But nothing rivals bagels. Sundays were often bagel days in his childhood home in the Long Island suburbs. As a teenager working for his father, Lee remembered they would make detours off the Long Island Expressway to grab fresh bagels.

“They were nice and plump, and they were so hot,” he said.

Father and son would eat them straight out of the bag — no cream cheese, no nothing.

“Those were the types of memories that I wanna bring here,” Lee said.

Big surf from distant hurricanes in the Pacific could bring coastal flooding to Southern California starting this weekend.

Hurricanes Polo and Odalys are expected to cause coastal erosion, flooding and high surf along Southern California's already battered coastline. Swells from Polo are expect to arrive as early as late Sunday and peak Monday and Tuesday.

Bryan Lewis, National Weather Service meteorologist, told LAist that high tides could reach 7 feet. He said Long Beach and Avalon are among the more vulnerable areas for potential flooding and erosion.

Long Beach and Los Angeles warned residents to prepare for potential flooding and other effects through at least Wednesday.

In early September, Hurricane Marie brought coastal erosion and flooding that led homes being red- and yellow-tagged in L.A. and Orange counties.

This story first appeared on The LA Local.

Friends & Family Flea, a new market from the team behind Maum Market, will make its debut Saturday in Koreatown. 

For organizer Arnold Byun, the launch is something of a homecoming. 

Nearly five years ago, Byun and his co-founder, Kioh Park, were living in Koreatown and spending months at Document Coffee Bar dreaming up what would eventually become Maum Market, the Asian makers market they launched in January 2022. The market now has a regular presence at ROW DTLA, where it hosts pop-up markets on Dock Street several times a year.

“The genesis of Maum Market is actually really embedded in Koreatown,” Byun, 31, told The LA Local. “And we have a lot of affection and personal history with Koreatown, so it’s a very personal thing for us just to return to our roots.” 

Most of the 24 vendors participating in the first Friends & Family Flea have some connection to Koreatown, Byun said. Some grew up in the neighborhood, some still live there and others have moved away but retain ties to the area. The vendor list includes apparel brands, artists, jewelry makers, beauty and wellness businesses and food vendors. 

“We’ve been trying to be pretty intentional about curating from the community as much as possible,” Byun said.

There will be plenty of food and shopping, including “sogeum-bbang,” or salt bread, tea, handmade candles, soaps and vintage clothing, as well as flash tattoos and burgers and fries from Love Hour. The LA Hwatu-Hanafuda Club will teach visitors about hwatu, the Korean deck of playing cards with roots in Japan. The club will also offer $5 tarot card readings.

Friends & Family Flea, a new market from the team behind Maum Market, will make its debut Saturday in Koreatown.

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Courtesy Eena Cho

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Eena Cho, founder of the LA Hwatu-Hanafuda Club, was born and raised in Koreatown. She remembers living with her mother in an apartment on Wilshire Boulevard and Vermont Avenue and volunteering at the senior center near Seoul International Park, where she spent time with older Korean residents.

She also grew up playing go-stop with her grandparents during Korean holidays, like Chuseok and Seollal. 

“That was a big part of my childhood,” said Cho, 24. “Another part is that living in LA where there’s so many different groups of people together, I remember my best friend Maria growing up, she was Mexican, and we would be playmates because both of our parents were working overtime.”

For Cho, joining Friends & Family Flea felt like a natural fit.

“Koreatown is a beautiful diaspora of many different cultures,” Cho said. “And I think that makes Koreatown, Koreatown.”

Friends & Family Flea, a new market from the team behind Maum Market, will make its debut Saturday in Koreatown.

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Courtesy Eena Cho

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The local focus is a big part of what Byun hopes will distinguish Friends & Family from other flea markets and fairs. He said organizers wanted to create something that “intentionally celebrates a specific neighborhood,” in this case, Koreatown. 

For the Koreatown market, that also means highlighting small businesses beyond the restaurants that often get the most attention.

“It’s more about, you know, where do we get our dry cleaning, where do we get our shoes done, or these kinds of services that I think don’t get highlighted as often as maybe restaurants do, but are really core and essential parts of a community business,” Byun said.

Byun’s own history with Koreatown also makes the neighborhood an especially fitting place to start.

His family immigrated to the South Bay from Korea in 2002, when he was 6. He remembers coming to Koreatown with his parents on the weekends for Korean meals and grocery trips.

Byun still thinks of the neighborhood as a second home for Korean immigrants, while appreciating how its community has grown more diverse.

“I’m just really happy to see it become a really beloved neighborhood,” he said.

The market is also giving back locally. Hats sold at the event will benefit the Koreatown Youth and Community Center, Byun said.

And this may not be a one-time run. If Saturday goes well, organizers hope to bring Friends & Family Flea back to Koreatown on a monthly basis. They also plan to offer discounted vendor fees to Koreatown residents.

“I feel like there was so much opportunity for us to really hone in and create something more hyperlocal and also really embed ourselves in the community as well,” Byun said.