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.

Think of pretty much any country, and you can likely find its cuisine in Los Angeles. But when we saw that Belgium was lined up to play Iran on Sunday, June 21, at SoFi Stadium, it gave us pause. Is there a Belgian restaurant in L.A.?

It turns out the answer is complicated. Liège waffles — the dense, caramelized, pearl-sugar version of the Belgian classic — have a real foothold here, with spots like Belgium Waffle Haus in the San Fernando Valley. There's also FRitēS-FReaK, an Orange County food truck devoted entirely to Belgian-style double-fried fries, piled high with toppings like fried egg and bacon.

But a full Belgian dining experience, the kind with mussels and frites and a wall of Trappist beers, is harder to come by. For that, you'll need to drive about 40 miles south down the coast, where Brussels Bistro — with locations in San Clemente and Laguna Beach — pays homage to the cuisine of the distinct but tiny country that's the size of Maryland.

Walk into the San Clemente location, and a marquee above the bar spells out a kind of Belgian shorthand — WE ♥ BELGIUM, CROQUETTES, WAFFLE, FRITES — more mood than menu. Near the entrance, a replica of the Manneken-Pis — one of Belgium's best-known symbols, the naked young boy happily urinating into a basin — sits on a shelf dressed in the Belgian national team jersey, an American flag planted beside him.

Chef-owner Thomas Crijns came from Ottignies, outside Brussels, in the early 2000s to consult on the Laguna Beach location — and never left. He runs the restaurant alongside his wife Carol, who is French-born with Persian heritage, a combination that will make the June 21 match particularly interesting in their household. When asked to describe the food of his home country, Crijns quickly quips: "Belgian cuisine is like French cuisine but with less pretension."

A World Cup match plays above the bar at Brussels Bistro, alongside a deep list of Belgian beers including Chimay, Duvel and Kasteel.

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Gab Chabrán

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LAist

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The menu reads like a love letter to Belgian culinary tradition — mussels, waffles, and carbonnade à la flamande, a Flemish stew made with beer and mustard — alongside a draft list that includes Chimay, Duvel, Rochefort and Delirium Tremens.

But the dish Crijns is most proud of is one most Americans have never heard of. The shrimp croquette is a staple of Belgian brasserie culture, made here with North Sea shrimp — what he calls "the caviar of the North Sea" — flown in every Thursday from a Dutch supplier.

Four golden, breaded croquettes arranged on a white plate over a bed of fried parsley, with a lemon wedge and a dollop of sauce on top of one croquette.

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Gab Chabrán

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LAist

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The croquettes arrived four to a plate, golden and perfectly formed, the exterior giving way to a creamy molten interior where the tiny shrimp created a texture unlike anything I'd had before — something close to squid, but more delicate. The kind of dish that makes more sense with a Belgian beer in hand and a side of frites within reach. The match, though, is a more complicated proposition in the Crijns household.

A taste of Belgium, one tap at a time, at Brussels Bistro in San Clemente.

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Gab Chabrán

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LAist

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Carol would know better than most. Her uncle runs a Persian restaurant in Irvine, part of an Orange County Iranian community of nearly 37,000 — a concentration that rivals many a concentration that rivals many larger cities

On June 21, she expects fans from both sides to fill the restaurant.

"I'm gonna do everything I can to bring as many family members," she said. "To tease my husband as much as I can."

"I'm grateful that the tournament allows us to put aside our differences and bring people together."

Coming from almost anyone else, that might sound like a talking point. Coming from a French-Persian woman married to a Belgian chef, watching Iran play Belgium at their own restaurant — it sounds like something she's earned the right to say.

For the Iranian diaspora in Los Angeles, the feelings around Iran's World Cup participation have been complicated. Monday's game between Iran and New Zealand ended in a 2-2 draw at SoFi Stadium. Now, Iran prepares to face Belgium at the same stadium on Sunday in a match that continues to carry weight well beyond the scoreline.

For Sahar Shomali, who owns Kouzeh, an Iranian bakery located in the Miracle Mile neighborhood, those feelings live somewhere between the oven and the morning news.

Kouzeh takes its name from the Farsi word for a clay jar. A small row of them sits on the bakery case that greets customers when they walk in. On the wall above, a laminated National Geographic map of Iran hangs alongside a small illustration featuring an Iranian saying: "What comes out of the vessel is whatever's inside it."

Sahar Shomali didn't plan for the name and the saying to connect. She just liked the way Kouzeh sounded.

Barbari is one of Iran's most beloved breads — a long, oval flatbread with a golden, slightly crisp crust and a soft, chewy interior. It’s as common in Tehran as a baguette is in Paris. And for Shomali, it was the one thing she couldn't stop thinking about after she left and arrived in the U.S.

A selection of breads at Kouzeh, including barbari (far left), kelaneh (the folded triangle), and several sweet breads tied to specific Iranian provinces.

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Gab Chabrán

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LAist

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Growing up, she lived a 10-minute walk from a barbari bakery, and her father would go every morning before breakfast, coming home with two pieces still hot from the oven. There is a running understanding among Iranians, she said, that you never make it home with the bread whole. Someone always tears off a piece on the walk back.

Kouzeh, an Iranian bakery on Wilshire Boulevard in Mid-Wilshire, opened earlier this year.

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Gab Chabrán

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LAist

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"I really missed that," she said. "Especially the barbari. That was my thing."

When she got to Los Angeles, she went looking for a replacement— and found Persian bakeries making barbari that were, to her, not the real thing. So she did what she calls the opposite: went to culinary school, and spent years moving as far from Iranian cuisine as possible, taking every Californian and French restaurant job she could find.

"So that I could just learn everything that I didn't know," she said.

It worked. In 2018 she left her last pastry chef job and applied everything she'd learned to make barbari. Once she felt she’d cracked it, Kouzeh followed.

Shomali doesn't just stick to barbari. She offers 25 very different breads, some sweet, some savory, each tied to a specific Iranian province. Standouts include kelaneh, a savory Kurdish flatbread with an herb filling — scallion, parsley, cilantro — pillowy soft with a slight char, somewhere between a flour tortilla and a scallion pancake. The kakouli bakhtiyari, made with grape molasses and flavored with fennel and fenugreek seeds, walks the line between sweet and savory. And eashly koukah, a festive bread from Tabriz filled with ginger and turmeric paste, rounds out a case that spans nearly the full breadth of the country.

The bakery case at Kouzeh, where each bread and pastry is labeled with its city or province of origin.

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Gab Chabrán

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LAist

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None of the breads come from family recipes — Shomali built each one through research, conversations with friends, a single bread book her cousin sent from Iran, and a culinary background that lets her reverse-engineer a recipe from a description alone. The shelves lining the walls tell a similar story: Saba Jams, small-batch preserves made by a childhood friend now based in San Francisco; torshi from Nicole's Kitchen; goods from ZoZo Baking — all Iranian women food makers in California that Shomali sought out personally.

"I called them all up," she said. "I said, I have shelves, and I want Persian goods on those shelves."

While having little interest in sports or the World Cup, Shomali's heart lies with her home country. Every morning, before the bread goes in, she checks the news from Iran — a ritual her customers share.

Even mid-rush, Sahar Shomali makes time for the regulars who keep coming back.

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Gab Chabrán

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LAist

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"We stress about it together, we grieve about it together. But people still show up and buy bread."

It's not lost on her, the duality of how she and her community feel torn between the country they adopted and the one they came from.

"Both of my countries are at war," she said. "I can't take sides in either one."

The Los Angeles City Council has approved a ballot proposal for November that would allow non-citizens to vote in council and school board elections.

The proposal, if approved by voters, could lay the groundwork for dramatically changing the electorate in Los Angeles. There are approximately 1.3 million to 1.4 million non-citizen residents living in the city, according to Data USA, making up nearly 36% of the city's population.

Councilmember Hugo Soto-Martinez championed the proposal, saying non-citizen residents have just as much of a stake in L.A. as citizens do.

“These are people who live here, they pay their taxes here, they raise their families here. And they are directly affected by the decisions we make every single day,” Soto-Martinez told the council. “They deserve to have a voice.”

The City Council voted 10-5 on Wednesday to place the charter change on the Nov. 3 ballot.

Councilmember John Lee voted no, expressing concerns about the cost of having non-citizens vote and the logistics of determining who is eligible. For example, how long would someone have to have lived in L.A. to vote?

“Those decisions will inevitably be viewed by some as benefitting allies or harming opponents even if that was not the actual intent,” Lee said. “The perception alone can undermine public confidence in our elections.”

Councilmember Imelda Padilla said she had another concern: “I am very nervous this could potentially create a disincentive to become a legal citizen.”

Soto-Martinez assured his colleague that the details of any plan to have non-citizens vote would be worked out in ordinances later. For now, he said, he wanted to send a message.

“I want this to be a way to show the world that Los Angeles is going the opposite direction of the federal government,” Soto-Martinez said. “While they are trying to take away people’s rights, we’re expanding it.”

The measure was one of several charter changes approved for the ballot.

The council is also placing before voters a plan to dramatically increase funding for the city’s beleaguered Department of Recreation and Parks. For years, the department has faced deep staffing cuts and struggled with aging facilities.

Under the proposal, parks funding would double over the next decade.

A coalition of parks advocates had sought the increase and many spoke to the council Wednesday.

“We need more green space and parks to have family gatherings,” said Ana Nieves of the Los Angeles Neighborhood Land Trust.

Councilmember Bob Blumenfield was the lone no vote on the measure. He said mandating an increase in funding for parks means there’ll have to be cuts elsewhere in the budget in the future.

“So don’t pat yourselves when you have an easy vote because it's out of context,” Blumenfield told his colleagues.

Voters in November will also be asked to expand the power of the City Council over the police department, including the ability to direct policy. Right now, a five-member civilian police commission appointed by the mayor has sole responsibility for setting policy.

Councilmember Eunisses Hernandez said the measure is needed because the commission has failed to reign in the police department on issues like pretextual stops. That’s when an officer uses a minor traffic violation as the reason to stop — and sometimes harass — a person.

“In some neighborhoods, policing is still like the 1990s,” Hernandez said. “It might not be happening like that in all parts of the city, but I can point to where it's happening in my district.”

Under the proposal, the council would be prohibited from getting involved in individual investigations or discipline.

Still, Lee warned the measure would lead to City Council meddling in the police department.

“Colleagues, I warn you against doing this,” he said. “Citizens oversight was put in place exactly to keep us out of politicizing the LAPD.”

The council approved a series of other proposed charter changes for the November ballot, ranging from increasing fines for ethics violations to establishing a director of public works.

The council rejected a number of other proposed charter changes, referring them instead to a City Council committee. They included a proposal to expand the City Council from 15 to 25 members and one to switch elections to ranked choice voting, saying the ideas needed more study.

The story first appeared on The LA Local.

Inglewood and L.A. Metro released a statement Wednesday after at least two videos went viral this week showing locals being blocked from their neighborhoods because of the World Cup events at SoFi Stadium.

One TikTok video, which received 1.4 million views and more than 92,000 likes, appears to show an officer telling a group of people in a car they cannot park on the street near their home. In an Instagram reel which received 221,000 likes, another officer tells drivers to turn around despite them heading home. 

“The City wants residents to know that denying access to homes has never been and will never be part of Inglewood’s traffic management plan for FIFA World Cup matches or any other event,” read the traffic update from Inglewood Mayor James Butts, which was posted on Instagram.

“Ensuring residents can safely access their homes and maintain a high quality of life during major events remains a top priority,” the statement read. 

In the same post, Metro L.A. released a statement explaining that they requested assistance from the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department to support bus movement out of the area, but did not call for “complete street closures.” Metro and Inglewood are coordinating a plan to better mitigate traffic around the stadium, according to the statement.  

This comes as hundreds of thousands of people descend upon Inglewood and L.A. for the World Cup. Traffic and parking remain a concern for locals, especially in light of other upcoming mega-events like the Super Bowl in 2027 and 2028 Olympics. 

Both videos caused widespread outrage because of officers’ treatment of locals. 

In the TikTok video, an officer told the group he doesn’t care that they live close — despite one person in the group saying one of the passengers has mobility issues — and that they have two options: Find parking on the street and get their car later or wait in their car until the event ends. Text over the video mentions that the traffic is due to “the FIFA event at the SoFi Stadium.” 

The officers also say they’ll leave during the video, however the passenger wrote that the officers were in front of their home from 7 to 10 p.m.  

Several comments are calling for the drivers to file a complaint with the Inglewood officials. 

In the Instagram reel, the person filming from the backseat repeatedly tells the officers that they live in the building across the street, however the officers shuts them down. 

Text over the video also explains that this occurred during the World Cup at SoFi.  

Like the comments under the TikTok post, viewers are calling for the drivers to sue Inglewood. 

Two comments under each of the videos mentions how other cities with stadium events give residents alternative parking options and routes to take home.