Top 15 Tips For Saving Thousands On Your Bills - Hifow

Read article : Top 15 Tips For Saving Thousands On Your Bills - Hifow

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Saving money is the hot word at the moment as the world economy gulps for air. Here I give tips on how you could save thousands by making a few changes to your home and lifestyle. The items are listed in no particular order, and the amounts I personally saved by trying these tips is listed at the end of each segment. Enjoy!

Holidays are often seen as a necessity, but luxury holidays can work out more expensive than they are worth. Traveling to other countries for your holiday can be full of hidden costs, such as airport taxes, insurance, and even the price of a passport, so one thing to consider is just how far do you need to go for have a few weeks of fun?? At the bottom end of the scale, camping holidays can be enjoyed for the price of a tent and a food budget, and a well planned trip could mean you are waking in a new location every day. Similarly, consider hiring a camper or motor-home – and take a tour of the wilderness. Holidaying in foreign parts may still carry a note of prestige, but who needs prestige when you’re broke? Average yearly saving (£): Over £2,000 ($3,000).

Buying ‘New’ costs more, and even more so when considering buying cars. A car can lose up to 50% of its worth in just 12 months, so the second-hand car market is ripe with good quality almost-new vehicles. At the bottom end of the market, a good car may cost as little as £1,000 and could be just as comfortable, reliable and economical as a brand new equivalent. The second-hand hard goods market is also awash with good quality gear. Online auction sites are by far the best places to buy gifts and gadgets at a fraction of the cost of their retail counterparts. For example, a one-week-old computer processor was found for just £90 on EBay – saving £60 – £80 on the price of a brand new one. Charity shops can be gold mines for clothing, drapes, toys and dvds, and because charity shops almost always insist on goods being of the best order, whole outfits can be bought for next to nothing. Average yearly saving by not buying new (£): Unlimited.

Many items have a higher price tag even though they may be carbon copies of other brands; simply because they have a popular label. Many motor manufacturers rebrand imported products to sell the same thing for a higher price. Many clothing manufacturers do the same. So if you can swallow your vanity and shift the ego, there really is no need to wear a label in order to look smart. If you must do, why not just buy a box of sew-on labels and do it yourself! On the shopping front, you may have to ask why you always buy Pepsi when multipak cola feeds the same need for less? Ok, so it might taste better, but it also costs… Again, if you must be suckered into wearing named brands, there are many places which sell the same things for less; and charity shops always have a nice selection of pristine labels on offer. Average yearly saving (£): £250 ($380).

The second most expensive single item on this list is a wedding. Weddings happen to most people, and most have to save for years to get what they want. However, there are always alternatives. One way would be to organize your own wedding using one of the many priests in your area. For example, I asked a Shaman to marry myself and my wife-to-be in a special clearing by a river; I created my own vows; and the whole thing came to under £400. There are many people willing to marry folks for the fraction of the price of a church service, and getting married on a beach, or in a forest – or having a themed wedding – may prove much more memorable and special. Collective saving over a church wedding (£): Over £2,000 ($3,000).

Perhaps the most controversial item on this list is the Rent vs Mortgage argument. In a lot of cases, renting can be as low cost as getting a mortgage and comes with a number of benefits. Firstly, you won’t owe £150,000 to be payable over 40 years! This means these debts wont be passed on to your next of kin should you die before you pay for the house. Renting means you can move to a larger or cheaper place as and when you like – or to a new area altogether. House maintenance should be taken care of by your landlord, and even some utility bills may be thrown into the price. If you fail to keep up your mortgage repayments, the banks will move pretty swiftly to boot you out, but many rental agencies or private landlords can often be paid much smaller sums in order to keep the roof over your head. Finally, if you are lucky enough to get help with your housing costs, many agencies will pay more to rented tenants than mortgaged individuals. Buying a house may still be seen as a good investment should the housing market go up in price – but at the moment it’s going down! – turning the whole thing into more of a gamble. Average lifetime saving (£): Variable.

With Gas and Electricity prices rising all the time, by far the easiest way to heat a home is to go back to the old ways – with a wood burring stove. Stoves can be bought relatively cheaply, and one will pay for itself in a couple of years. Fuel is never a problem (and often free) as long as you live near a wood yard, a coppice project, a paper mill, a saw mill, or even a dump (where wood is available by the skip load). A cheap circular saw can be bought for as little as £10, and means you can chop up tables, cabinets, dressers, and just about anything else. Sick and tired of all that junk mail? Bung it in, and make it heat your home! Endless stacks of paper products?, cereal boxes?, packaging? Recycle it the original way and save the planet. Supermarkets are also a good source of material – and are usually more than willing to see the back of banana boxes and all kinds of packaging. On top of all that, a good stove burner could be adapted into the water system of your home; so you can use it to take a bath. Stoves can also be cooked upon too!. Finally, they are great for giving a home that natural heat that helps you feel drowsy and have a good nights sleep. Average yearly saving (£): Over £140 ($210)

With the advent of the Internet, technology now allows a cheaper viewing experience. If you are lucky enough to live in an area where most of the material on TV is available online and on demand, there really is no reason to pay for TV anymore. In the UK, the cost of a TV license can be over £100 a year. With a good graphics card on your computer, you should be able to connect your TV to it; meaning ANY output from your machine can be directed to play on the big screen with the touch of a button. This also means that your television watching habits can be tailored to your own on-demand needs, and you won’t be paying for all those waste-of-time shows which clog many networks these days. Finally, with the advent of shared downloads, you can now have your favorite shows on your hard drive and play them direct – saving you buying or burning all those DVDs. Average yearly saving (£): Over £120 ($180).

Now this had to come up at some point, but this could make a HUGE difference to your expenditure over a year. By far the easiest way to budget is to type in all your outgoings and bills in monthly columns on a spreadsheet. Below these, enter whatever income you have – and then take the outgoings amount away from your combined income. Hay presto! Your disposable income pops up at the bottom. Budgeting a whole year in advance can show you what shape your bank account will be in during the months to come; helping you save more if things look tight, or to afford those little luxuries without fear of going into the red. A budget can also help you as you tinker with the figures – shaving money off here and there – allowing you to maximize whatever money you have available to you. Average yearly saving (£): Unlimited.

On several occasion I have house-shared as a means of cutting the house-hold bills in half. A paying guest can ‘lodge’ for any price you set – and many are happy to pay as much as you would pay to rent the house on your own. Similarly, many are willing to split the rent and the bills; resulting in a very much less expensive way to live. Of course, house sharing does have a few drawbacks; such as privacy;
but at the end of the day it’s up to you whether you want to keep them or to send them on their way. House mates can also be very good company, very good partners on a night out, may be great (free) babysitters, and may be a convenient way to car share. Average yearly saving from a house-share (£): £3800 ($5,800).

In some parts of the world, water bills are calculated on the average usage in your community, or at least on your block. That is fine if you use as much as everyone else; but not so good if you live on your own or prefer to smell nasty from not taking baths! For singles or students then, having a water meter installed could save you a small fortune as it means you will only pay for what you use. So, by not washing the car, or by doing the dishes in a bowl rather than in a dish-washer, or taking showers instead of baths – you can save on your usual water bill. For quite a few household jobs – such as watering the garden and washing the car – the water you need comes from the sky – for FREE – and is worth collecting if you have a water meter. Average yearly saving (£): Over £120 ($180).

Running a car can be a very expensive business, so fuel economy can be an easy way to save those extra penny’s. First of all, keeping your car in shape is by far the quickest way to start saving. For example: ensuring the tires are inflated to the correct PSI and have plenty of rubber, changing the air and oil filters, removing excess weight, and driving carefully; can mean your fuel can last at least 10-20 MPG longer. Race starts, revving the engine, and driving over 70MPH (112kph) uses up fuel quickly, and could only result in saving you minutes at the other end. The best speed for fuel economy is 56MPH (90kph). Buying a diesel or a car with good fuel economy (over 50mpg) is also a big consideration, and could cut the average fuel bill by half over a year. Car sharing is great as it means you are sharing the cost of driving between you, and if you alternate between each others cars it could mean you are traveling half as often in your own car. Small journeys eat into your fuel reserve more than long ones because of the time it takes the car to warm up. If you reach your destination before the ‘choke’ switches off you will have used an extra 10% of fuel in your journey. For this reason, it is better to shop around all in one day rather than popping into town every day for little bits. If you can, walk. Walking is free, and every trip saved is an extra trip you can make on the same tank of gas. Average yearly saving (£): Over £100 ($150).

Now this might sound obvious, but eating take-outs can be far more expensive than eating your own home cooked meals. Take-outs; although often very tasty; can contain materials which actively make you hungrier or thirstier – causing you to consume more as a result. Ordering out for food or going out for meals can really make a big difference to a shopping budget, and can turn one of life’s greatest luxuries into a taken-for-granted habit. Saving take-outs for special days (i.e. Saturdays) and special occasions can make the experience even more exciting, even more sumptuous, and a whole lot cheaper. Average yearly saving by eating less take-outs (£): Over £120 ($180).

If saving on food is a little beyond your comfort zone then this next classic will have you screaming. With the credit crunch propaganda infiltrating the airwaves of late, many are left wondering how they will afford the basic household bills. One way is simply to economize on life’s luxuries – and by far the most common (and most expensive) luxuries are those concerning cigarettes and alcohol. For example, if you were to smoke 20 cigarettes a day, your yearly expenditure may average around £1800 ($2,800). If you were to cut down from 20 cigarettes a day to 10, this would go down to £900 ($1,400, a saving of £900 a year – or x30 fuel bills!). 7 cigarettes a day, and the cost goes down to around £550 ($850) a year; quit smoking and you could save the full £1800 ($2,800). Alcohol is very similar in that a single night out may cost anywhere between £20 and £60; so by going out just once a week less often; you could save between £960 (1,470) and £2880 ($4,400) over a year. Average yearly saving after quitting drinking and smoking (£): Over £6,660.

There are many ways to cut the shopping budget down to size. For starters, choose your shops carefully. If it can be ordered and delivered cheaper online (i.e. hard goods, media), this could save up to 50% on retail prices. As far as food goes, one supermarkets’ prices may not be too unlike anothers’, but there can be huge saving to be made if you are willing to shop around for the basic items. Convenience stores often hike their prices thinking that consumers will shop there anyway and swallow the difference. Milk, for example, may be a third more expensive at your local shop or gas station than it may be at a superstore. Over the year, these expenses mount up. However, if the price of a cheaper loaf of bread would cost you more in gas money to drive over and pick one up, then this would be false economy in that it would cost more overall for the same result. Average yearly saving (£): Over £480 ($).

Finally, why not maximize your income by eating healthily! Contrary to what you may think, eating veggie is very VERY cheap, and a full weeks worth of food may cost from as little as £10 ($15) a head. By far the cheapest way to have the best quality vegetables for your pot would be to grow your own. For the price of a packet of seeds (or a few carrot tops and sprouting potatoes) you can grow and rotate your stocks to provide an endless free supply of basic foods. A good steamer unit, an oven, and a magimix (for soups) will also save hours of gas or electricity bills as neither of these use too much juice to run. Eating veggie doesn’t necessarily mean avoiding meat – that’s up to you – you don’t have to be a vegetarian to eat veggie! Meat, fish and chicken can be used as you like, along with eggs, cheese, sauces, pickles and spices. The point is to avoid shopping for pre-packaged foods; in whatever variety they come; and simply eat fresh. Aside from fresh being far less expensive (even totally free!), fresh also contains far less additives, comes with far less packaging, and is FAR more beneficial for the mind and body. Average yearly saving by growing your own veggies (£): £900 ($1,400) per head.

Summary: So there you have it. If you invest in a good budget and a wood burning stove to heat and cook on, get a suitable house mate, cut down or cut out the cigs, booze and the take-outs, get a water meter, don’t pay for TV, and grow and eat veggie – you could save a fortune. I did all the above, and although I didn’t sacrifice too much of my social life I still managed to save… £12,700 year-on-year ($19,500).

Contributor: Lifeschool

Read more: http://listverse.com/2008/11/30/top-15-tips-for-saving-thousands-on-your-bills/

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Colourful Coasts cruise review aboard Thomson Spirit

Read article : Colourful Coasts cruise review aboard Thomson Spirit

“Have you cruised before?” Anyone who has shared a dining table on a luxury liner will have heard this sentence on more than one occasion.

To some the words can be nothing more than shrill, however, if you like a little bit of holiday one-upmanship then it will be music to your ears.

Our recent holiday aboard Thomson Spirit was our fourth cruise and my other half, John, and I had great pleasure in crowing about this.

I try not to be too blasé about it being our ‘fourth’ cruise because I am well aware of the fact that it wasn’t so many years ago only the rich and famous took to the high seas for a week or two taking in sunnier climes.

Now the rich and famous can afford to buy their own yachts so there is little chance of celebrity spotting.

There is, however, usually a star turn aboard each liner including guest speakers, comedians and some cruise companies employ the cast of Strictly Come Dancing to encourage bookings.

Whenever I mention to anyone on dry land that my next holiday will be a cruise I get a look from them as if to say: “You’ve got some money …” and I would like to dispel the myth that lounging around on a liner for a week or two is pricey. It can be as reasonable or as expensive – as you wish.

Seasoned cruisers will be well aware that you have to be quite careful to make sure you know what is included in the price you originally pay.

Sometimes the amount of ‘add-ons’ after you think your holiday is all bought and paid for can be a bit daunting. Every cruise operator is different – and so is every ship.

In the past John and I have holidayed with Cunard, Uniworld and P&O, each very different and all with unique selling points. But be sure to read the small print to see what is, and what isn’t, included in the price you are paying. Some operators charge a set amount per day per person for staff tips, and if you are booking a ‘cruise only’ trip you may need to arrange transport to and from the port which could include flights and overnight stays.

For cruise number four John and I opted for a fly cruise and as we were holidaying in mid-November The Canary Islands looked most favourable.

After flicking through more brochures than you can shake a stick at and trawling the internet for hours on end we chose for a seven-day cruise with Thomson – the Colourful Coasts, aboard the Spirit.

Why I hear you cry? Why would you want to cruise on a 30-year-old ship without any balconies? Don’t worry, you’re not questioning anything we already hadn’t asked ourselves.

Cruising with Thomson is a great introduction to this style of holiday as the ships are smaller and less intimidating than the huge liners which carry more than 5,000 passengers. Spirit’s capacity is 1,250.

Currently Thomson has four ships in service – the Dream, Celebration, Spirit and Majesty – and the joy of booking with this travel company is the price quoted includes an inside stateroom, flights, food and tips. It is then up to the individual how they choose to tailor the trip.

Colourful Coasts was chosen not only for its value for money but also its destinations and the promise that the weather would be better than here in England.

We flew from Birmingham to Tenerife, sailing from Santa Cruz to some delightful islands including Gran Canaria (Las Palmas), La Palma (Santa Cruz De La Palma), Madeira (Funchal), Morocco (Agadir), Lanzarote (Arrecife), and then returning to Santa Cruz before flying back to the UK.

We upgraded to a deluxe outside plus stateroom on deck eight/nine which gave us a huge 19 square metres to waft about in all week. We had a peak into other staterooms and they all seemed more than adequate and I wouldn’t have been disappointed spending my week in any of them.

Ours had ample wardrobe and dressing table space, and the largest bathroom we have experienced while cruising with an actual bathtub and a decent shower.

Because John had done his homework reading up on many cruise review websites we were aware of what facilities the rooms would and wouldn’t have.

There is no need to pack shampoo, soap, shower gel, tissues, towels (including beach), shower caps or a hairdryer as these were all provided.

Obviously if you prefer to take your own you can do so but when you are limited to 20kg hold luggage and five kilos of hand luggage you need to be a bit savvy with your packing – which I am not. I managed to fill both my cases to full capacity and will know next time there is absolutely no need to pack an iron …

The most useful thing I did take with me was a four-plug extension lead. There are limited plug sockets in the room and by limited I mean one.

When you think about it, when the ship was built in 1984, all that was needed to be plugged in was curling tongues as a hairdryer is provided. Thirty years on we are a nation of technophiles with mobile phones to be charged, iPod docking stations to be plugged in, along with laptops, straighteners, heated rollers, kettles and irons.

Next time – and I am hoping there will be a next time – I will also take my own coat hangers as I seemed to do battle on several occasions with the ones provided.

Our room was spotlessly clean – as were all the public areas – and was cleaned and tidied each morning with an animal crafted out of a beach left on our bed. Every evening there was a five star turn down service which included chocolates placed on the pillows. The cabin staff were wonderful and nothing was too much trouble.

The cruise offered excellent sailing times and most days we left port late afternoon or early evening and travelled through the night.

With only one day at sea, for the majority of our holiday we woke up each morning at a new destination. Marvellous. Once you are aboard the ship it is entirely up to you how you spend your day – and your money. Photographs are taken more discretely than some on cruises; shops which stock a lovely selection of duty free products including handbags, perfumes, watches and jewellery, and a selection of shore excursions.

The excursions available were excellent value-for-money and we while we were in Madeira and Morocco we chose to join a guided tour rather than going it alone. These were booked online in advance but can also be organised through a travel agent or once on board the ship.

In Funchal we chose ‘A Taste of Madeira and Cable Car’ tour which was a half day trip and included a cable car ride from Funchal up to nearby Monte. Then it was decision time – did we slip and slide down the narrow streets in a toboggan, or rejoin the bus for a more sedate journey down the hill?

Sitting in a wicker basket mounted on wooden runners, two drivers guide the sled down through narrow streets, using their rubber-soled boots as brakes was thrilling and Ernest Hemingway once described the experience as ‘exhilarating’. After our ride we wandered around Funchal’s tranquil Botanical Gardens before visiting Funchal’s farmers’ market.

In Agadir we opted for another half day trip and this time it was to Touradant.

Surrounded by olive trees, palms and sweet-smelling citrus groves, the walled city is a real gem. On our drive to and from the destination we had the thrill of seeing camels and tree-climbing goats. Although John was the only one who saw the latter – I thought it was more likely to be a carrier bag flapping in the wind. Once we had arrived at Taroudant our guided tour took us around a daily Berber market and the Arab souk (market).

There were many of our fellow cruisers who refused to leave the ship as they felt Morocco wasn’t safe, however, we have visited the country twice without incident.

As our learned Agadirian guide pointed out: “There are good and bad people all over the world.”

One major concern we had when we booked the cruise wasn’t whether we should get off the ship in Morocco, it was be whether I would miss the balcony.

When cruising with P&O I sat on ours most afternoons, had breakfast on it most mornings and found it to be a perfect extension to our room.

Did I miss not having this extra space on the Spirit? Being totally honest, just once, and that was when we had our one day at sea. Cruising aboard a liner which looks akin to a block of flats, with more balconies than you can shake a stick at usually means many of the public rooms are in the bowels of the ship, hence the need for a balcony.

On the Spirit there are fabulous views from every public room and there was always plenty of room on the lido decks.

Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty who love the larger ships and it’s a case of ‘the bigger the better’ for many.

Not for John and I, we prefer a smaller, more intimate ship. Is it really necessary to have to choose from 24 different dining experiences?

In our world, no! Aboard Spirit there are four dining options available – the lido self-service restaurant; the outside terrace where we ate breakfast and lunch most days; the Compass Rose restaurant with waiter service or Sirocco’s, an intimate a la carte restaurant.

On previous cruising holidays, dining in the self-service restaurant has proved to be a nightmare for us both and we have found the only way we can organise ourselves is to find a table and then tag team our food and drink. Not very romantic – and not very pleasant if I am perfectly honest.

Each time we dined in Spirit’s Lido Restaurant the staff are so well organised that there was never a problem finding a table, no matter what time of day we chose to eat.

Even on the morning of disembarkation the set up ran smoothly and this is all down to the organisation of the staff.

Once everyone has been fed it’s time for them to be watered and there was an excellent selection of speciality teas and coffees, soft drinks, beers, lagers, wines and spirits available.

While food was included in the price of the cruise, this type of beverage, wasn’t. There are drinks packages (DP) available to buy if you like a tipple and if your cruise is booked early enough, some are included in the price. However when we booked our trip an all-inclusive DP would have cost around £199 per person. With the best will in the world – and we both like a drink – there is no way we would have got through almost £400 of alcohol between us in just a week.

Well, not without staying on the ship 24/7 and me doing a good impression of Esme Cannon in the film Carry on Cruising.

There was no need to fret as we were able to purchase a DP to suit us on our first evening.

What really sets Thomson Cruises apart from its peers is its staff. From the maintenance team to the ones with the posh pips on their shoulders, nothing was too much trouble. Each and every one of them had time to smile, chat and be as helpful as possible to the guests – and it didn’t matter what rank they were, everyone mucked in an got on with the job in hand.

It was their friendliness and the relaxed atmosphere aboard Spirit which really made our holiday special. At no point did John or I feel as if we were an inconvenience and any questions we had were always answered.

One niggle we have had on all our cruise holidays though is the lack of internet access. Okay so there is access on the Spirit but it’s quite expensive so when the ship docks the first thing John and I usually do is head off to a café which offers free WiFi.

Nowadays, so many people have smart phones that if Thomson wants to get ahead of its rivals, it should look into offering complimentary Wi-Fi. Even if it’s only for half an hour each day, at least it would mean that we could brag on social media networks about where we are – oh and upload lots of ‘selfies’!

Our latest jolly jaunt was by far our favourite cruise and there would be no hesitation in travelling with this cruise line again.

From booking at Thomson’s, in Burton, to the towel animal left on our bed each day – everything was absolutely perfect. Now where did I put that brochure? ...

Travel Facts:

The Colourful Coasts cruise is available with flights from East Midlands and Birmingham airports.

A seven-night cruise, including flights, starts from £799 per person until April 2104. The cruise resumes in November and continues until April 2015.

For more information pick up a brochure from Thomson in Station Street, Burton, or via the website here .

Dispossessed in the Land of Dreams

Read article : Dispossessed in the Land of Dreams

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Sometime in July 2012, Suzan Russaw and her husband, James, received a letter from their landlord asking them to vacate their $800-a-month one-bedroom apartment in Palo Alto, California. He gave them 60 days to leave. The “no-fault” eviction is a common way to clear out low-paying tenants without a legal hassle and bring in people willing to pay thousands more in rent. James was 83 at the time and suffering from the constellation of illnesses that affect the old: He had high blood pressure and was undergoing dialysis for kidney failure and experiencing the early stages of dementia.

Their rent was actually a couple of hundred dollars more than James’s monthly Social Security benefits, but he made up the rest by piecing together odd jobs. They looked for a new apartment for two months and didn’t find anything close to their price range. Their landlord gave them a six-week extension, but it yielded nothing. When mid-October came, Suzan and James had no choice but to leave. With hurried help from neighbors, they packed most of their belongings into two storage units and a ramshackle 1994 Ford Explorer which they called “the van.” They didn’t know where they were going.

A majority of the homeless population in Palo Alto—93 percent—ends up sleeping outside or in their cars. In part, that’s because Palo Alto, a technology boomtown that boasts a per capita income well over twice the average for California, has almost no shelter space: For the city’s homeless population, estimated to be at least 157, there are just 15 beds that rotate among city churches through a shelter program called Hotel de Zink; a charity organizes a loose network of 130 spare rooms, regular people motivated to offer up their homes only by neighborly goodwill. The lack of shelter space in Palo Alto—and more broadly in Santa Clara and San Mateo counties, which comprise the peninsula south of San Francisco and around San Jose—is unusual for an area of its size and population. A 2013 census showed Santa Clara County having more than 7,000 homeless people, the fifth-highest homeless population per capita in the country and among the highest populations sleeping outside or in unsuitable shelters like vehicles.

San Francisco and the rest of the Bay Area are gentrifying rapidly—especially with the most recent Silicon Valley surge in social media companies, though the trend stretches back decades—leading to a cascade of displacement of the region’s poor, working class, and ethnic and racial minorities. In San Francisco itself, currently the city with the most expensive housing market in the country, rents increased 13.5 percent in 2014 from the year before, leading more people to the middle-class suburbs. As real estate prices rise in places like Palo Alto, the middle class has begun to buy homes in the exurbs of the Central Valley, displacing farmworkers there.

Suzan, who is 70, is short and slight, with her bobbed hair dyed red. The first time I met her, she wore leggings, a T-shirt, a black cardigan wrapped around her shoulders, and fuzzy black boots I later learned were slippers she’d gotten from Goodwill and sewn up to look like outside shoes. (She wore basically the same outfit, with different T-shirts, nearly every time we met, and I realized she didn’t have many clothes.) Her voice is high and singsongy and she is always polite. You can tell she tries to smooth out tensions rather than confront them. She is a font of forced sunniness and likes to punctuate a sad sentence with phrases like “I’m so blessed!” or “I’m so lucky!” She wore a small necklace and said jewelry was important to her. “I feel, to dispel the image of homelessness, it’s important to have a little bling,” she said.

In the van, Suzan was in charge of taking care of everyone and everything, organizing a life that became filled with a unique brand of busy boredom. She and James spent most of their time figuring out where to go next, how to get there, and whether they could stay once they arrived. They found a short-term unit in a local family shelter in Menlo Park that lasted for five weeks. Afterward, they stayed in a few motels, but even fleabags in the area charge upwards of $100 a night. When they couldn’t afford a room they camped out in the van, reclining the backseats and making a pallet out of blankets piled on top of their clothes and other belongings. Slowly, there were fewer nights in hotels and more in the van, until the van was where they lived.

A life of homelessness is one of logistical challenges and exhaustion. Little things, like planning a wardrobe for the week, involved coordinated trips to storage units and laundromats, and could take hours. The biggest conundrum? Where to pull over and sleep. Suzan and James learned quickly not to pull over on a residential block, because the neighbors would call the police. They tried a church or two, 24-hour businesses where they thought they could hide amidst the other cars, and even an old naval field. The places with public toilets were best because, for reasons no one can quite explain, 3 a.m. is the witching hour for needing to pee. They kept their socks and shoes on, both for staying warm on chilly Bay Area nights and also for moving quickly if someone peered into their windows, or a cop flashed his light inside, ready to rouse. Wherever they were sleeping, they couldn’t sleep there. “Sometimes, I was so tired, I would be stopped at a red light and say, ‘Don’t go to sleep. Don’t go to sleep,’” Suzan said. “And then I would fall asleep.”

A few months in, a nice man in a 7-Eleven parking lot told them about a former high school turned community center on the eastern side of town called Cubberley. He’d walked up to their van after recognizing signs of life in the car, tired faces among the junk piling up in the back. Suzan and James were familiar with the community center because they’d taken their daughter to preschool there many years before, but they hadn’t thought about sleeping there. Cubberley had a quiet back parking lot, a flat grass amphitheater with a concrete paddock for a stage, and 24-hour public bathrooms with showers in an old gym. Rumor was that the cops wouldn’t bother anyone.

Suzan’s husband, James Russaw, pictured with two of their grandchildren.

Cubberley was a psychic relief because it solved so many basic needs: It had a place to bathe in the morning, a place to charge your phone. The parking lot had also formed its own etiquette and sense of community. People tended to park in the same places, a spot or two next to their neighbors, and they recognized one another and nodded at night. They weren’t exactly friends, but they were people who trusted each other, an impromptu neighborhood no one wanted to lose after losing so much. It was safe, a good place to spend the night. But it was next door to a segment of homeowners who were fighting hard to move the car dwellers out.

Normally, wealthy people who move into an area don’t see the results of their displacement because the people who lose their homes don’t stick around; they move to cheaper suburbs and work themselves into the fabric elsewhere. But the folks at Cubberley, 30 people on any given night, were the displacement made manifest. Most weren’t plagued with mental health or substance abuse problems; they simply could no longer afford rent and became homeless in the last place they lived. People will put up with a lot to stay in a place they know. “I’ve been analyzing why don’t I just get the heck on. Everybody says that, go to Wyoming, Montana, you can get a mansion,” Suzan said. “Move on, move on, always move on. And I say to myself, ‘Why should I have to move on?’”

It’s a new chapter in an old story. In his seminal 1893 lecture at the Chicago World’s Fair, Frederick Jackson Turner summarized the myth of the American frontier and the waves of settlers who created it as an early form of gentrification: First, farmers looking for land would find a remote spot of wilderness to tame; once they succeeded, more men and women would arrive to turn each new spot into a town; finally, outside investors would swoop in, pushing out the frontiersman and leaving him to pack up and start all over again. It has always been thus in America. Turner quoted from a guide published in 1837 for migrants headed for the Western frontiers of Ohio, Indiana, and Wisconsin: “Another wave rolls on. The men of capital and enterprise come. The ‘settler’ is ready to sell out and take the advantage of the rise of property, push farther into the interior, and become himself a man of capital and enterprise in turn.” This repeating cycle, Turner argued, of movement and resettlement was essential to the American character. But he foresaw a looming crisis. “The American energy will continually demand a wider field for its exercise,” he wrote. “But never again will such gifts of free land offer themselves.” In other words, we would run out of places for the displaced to go.

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Suzan was born in 1945. Her father worked at what was then the Lockheed Corporation, and her mother had been raised by a wealthy family in Oak Park, Illinois. Her family called her Suzi. Though she grew up in nearby Saratoga—and spent some time in school in Switzerland—she distinctly remembers coming with her mother to visit Palo Alto, with its downtown theaters and streets named after poets. Palo Alto more than any other place formed the landscape of her childhood. “It was a little artsy-craftsy university town—you find charming towns are university towns.”

Like many women of her day, Suzan didn’t graduate from college. When she was 24, after her last stay in Switzerland, she moved to Mountain View, the town on Palo Alto’s eastern border that is now home to Google and LinkedIn. She was living off a small trust her family had set up for her when she met James at a barbecue their apartment manager threw to foster neighborliness among his tenants. James had grown up in a sharecropping family in Georgia, moved west during World War II, and was more than 17 years her senior, handsome and gentlemanly. Suzan thought: “I can learn something from him.” They were an interracial couple in the late 1960s, which was unusual, though she says her family didn’t mind. It was also an interclass marriage, and it moved Suzan down the income ladder.

For years, James and Suzan lived together, unmarried. They bought a house on University Avenue, just north of the county line and blocks from downtown Palo Alto, in 1979, and four years later had their only daughter, Nancy. It was the area’s ghetto, and the only source of affordable housing for many years. It was also the center of violence in the region, and, in 1992, was the murder capital of the country.

They never had much money. For most of their marriage, James ran a small recycling company and Suzan acted as his bookkeeper, secretary, and housewife. They refused to apply for most government assistance, even as homeless elders. “My husband and I had never been on welfare or food stamps,” she told me. “Even to this day.”

Suzan’s parents died in 2002 and 2003, and her older sister died in 2009. (“I thank God that they’re gone,” she told me. “They would die if they saw me now.”) It was a hard time for Suzan, who went to care for her dying parents and nearly left James. She felt he’d checked out of the difficulties. In retrospect, she thinks his dementia might already have been setting in; James was already in his seventies. He had taken out a second mortgage on their home, and they couldn’t pay it after he retired. They sold the house at a loss in 2005; it’s now a Century 21 office.

After they moved into the van, they settled into a routine. On the nights before James’s early-morning treatments, they slept in the dialysis center’s parking lot. Otherwise they generally stayed at Cubberley. They were still living off James’s retirement income, but most of it went to the $500 needed to rent the two storage units where their furniture remained, until they lost one for nonpayment. Finally, a few months in, Suzan was able to use a clause in a trust set up by her mother’s father to help her out in an emergency. It doubled their income—much of which was eaten up by the costs of gas, the remaining storage unit, parking tickets, and the other expenses of an unsettled life. It was a respectable income, one that technically kept them above poverty, but it still wasn’t enough for rent.

James was increasingly ill and van life was taking a toll. In addition to James’s other problems, both he and Suzan were starting to experience some of the health problems common among the homeless. The backseat of the van filled with bags of clothes, papers, fast-food detritus, pens, old parking tickets, and receipts. As the junk built up, the recline of their seats inched forever upward, until they were sitting up all the time, causing their legs to swell and nerves to become damaged, the medical consequences of not being able to raise your feet at night.

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Gentrification used to be about poor neighborhoods, usually black and brown, underdeveloped and full of decrepit and neglected housing stock, run by the occasional slumlord—often described as “blighted,” though that designation has always been problematic—and how they become converted into wealthier ones, usually through the influx of richer white people and their demand for new services and new construction. It’s a negative process for the people who have to move, but there’s occasionally an element of good, because neglected neighborhoods revive. But what’s happening now in the Bay Area is that people who’ve done nothing wrong—not paid their rent late, violated their lease, or committed any other housing sin—are being forced out to make way. Displacement is reaching into unquestionably vibrant, historic, middle- and working-class neighborhoods, like The Mission in San Francisco, a former center of Chicano power. (The Mission alone has lost 8,000 Latino residents in the past ten years, according to a report from the local Council of Community Housing Organizations and the Mission Economic Development Agency.) And it’s happening to such an extent that the social workers who used to steer people to affordable apartments as far away as Santa Rosa or Sacramento, a two-hour drive, are now telling people to look even farther out. The vehicle dwellers I spoke with said they’d heard of friends living in places like Stockton, once a modest working-class city in the middle of the state, receiving notice-to-vacate letters like the one Suzan and James received.

For the most part, the traits that draw people to Palo Alto—good schools, a charming downtown, nice neighborhoods in which to raise a family, and a short commute to tech jobs—are the very same things that made the residents of Cubberley want to stay, even if it meant living in their car. The destabilizing pressure of a real estate market is also felt by the merely rich, the upper middle class, and the middle class, because the high-end demand of the global elite sets the market prices. “My block has the original owners, a retired schoolteacher and a retired postal worker,” said Hope Nakamura, a legal aid attorney who lives in Palo Alto. “They could never afford to buy anything there now.” Most people told me if they had to sell their homes today they wouldn’t be able to buy again anywhere in the area, which means many Palo Altans have all of their wealth tied up in expensive homes that they can’t access without upending their lives. It makes everyone anxious.

The view inside a van parked outside a Palo Alto homeless organization.

The outcry from the neighbors over Cubberley was so fierce that it reshaped Palo Alto’s city government. The city council is nonpartisan, but a faction emerged that revived an old, slow-growth movement in town, known as the “residentialists.” Their concerns are varied (among them, the perennial suburban concerns of property values and traffic), but their influence has been to block any new development of affordable housing and shoo people like Suzan and James away from Palo Alto. An uproar scuttled an affordable-housing building for senior citizens near many public transit options that had been proposed by the city housing authority and unanimously approved by the city council. Opponents said they were worried about the effect the development would have on the surrounding community—they argued it wasn’t zoned for “density,” which is to say, small apartments—and that traffic congestion in the area would be made worse. Aparna Ananthasubramaniam, then a senior at Stanford, tried to start a women’s-only shelter in rotating churches, modeled after the Hotel de Zink. She said a woman came up to her after a community meeting where the same concerns had been raised by a real estate agent. “Her lips were quivering and she was physically shaking from how angry she was,” Ananthasubramaniam told me. “She was like, ‘You come back to me 20 years from now once you have sunk more than $1 million into an asset, like a house, and you tell me that you’re willing to take a risk like this.”

The trouble for Cubberley began when neighbors went to the police. There’d been at least one fight, and the neighbors complained about trash left around the center. At the time, Cubberley was home to a 64-year-old woman who’d found a $20-an-hour job after nine years of unemployment; a tall, lanky, panhandler from Louisiana who kept informal guard over her and other women at the center; a 63-year-old part-time school crossing guard who cared for his dying mother for 16 years, then lived off the proceeds from the sale of her house until the money ran out; two retired school teachers; a 23-year-old Palo Alto native who stayed with his mother in a rental car after his old car spontaneously combusted; and, for about six months, Suzan and James. “They didn’t fit this image that the powers that be are trying to create about homeless people. They did not fit that image at all,” Suzan told me. “We made sure the premises were respected, because it was an honor to be able to stay there.” She and others told me they cleaned up their areas at the center every morning.

“I said, ‘We have no place to go, and we’re staying right here.’ They were going to know about it.”

Pressured to find a way to move the residents out, the police department went to the city council claiming they needed a law banning vehicle habitation to address the neighbors’ concerns. Advocates for the homeless said that any problems could be solved if police would just enforce existing laws. Local attorneys warned the city council that such laws could soon be considered unconstitutional, because the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals was hearing a challenge to a similar law in Los Angeles. Carrie LeRoy, an attorney who advocated on behalf of the unhoused, and other attorneys threatened to file a class-action lawsuit if the vehicle-habitation ban ever went into effect. The city council passed the ban anyway, in a 7-2 vote in August 2013, and the police department and other groups in the city started an outreach program to tell people about the law. “All of them had received these notices from the city,” LeRoy said, “And it was basically like, ‘Get out of our town.’”

A few weeks later, the city council also voted to close the showers at Cubberley and give it a 10:30 p.m. curfew, which made it illegal to sleep there. On their last night there, in October 2013, Suzan and James left around 8 p.m. so they wouldn’t get caught past the new curfew. They tried some old haunts and got kicked out. The stress of living in the van was hard on James. Around this time, James decided to end his dialysis. “Of course, we knew what that meant,” Suzan said.

One night, about a month after leaving Cubberley, the police pulled Suzan and James over. Their registration was expired. “This officer, he got a wild hair, and he said, ‘I’m going to impound your car,’ and called the tow truck.” Suzan told me. They got out of the car. Without pushing and demanding, she realized, she was never going to get out of the situation. She told me she said to the officer, “This is our home, and if you impound it we will not have a home.” He insisted. “I said ‘That’s fine. You do that. We will stay right here. I will put the beds out, I will put what we need here, right here on the sidewalk.” Other officers arrived and talked to them. They asked Suzan whether, surely, there was some other place they could go. “I said, ‘We have no place to go, and we’re staying right here.’ I was going to make a stink. They were going to know about it.” Suzan told me people were poking their heads out of their homes, and she realized the bigger fuss she made, the more likely officers might decide just to leave them alone.

Because James’s health had continued to worsen, he and Suzan finally qualified for motel vouchers during the cold weather. They got a room in a rundown hotel. “It had a microwave and a hot bath,” Suzan said. In his last few days, James was given a spot in a hospice in San Jose, and Suzan went with him. “It was so cut-and-dry. They said, ‘This is an end-of-life bed, period,’ ” Suzan said. “And I never said that to James.” He died on February 17, 2014, and a few weeks later a friend of theirs held a memorial service for James at her house. Suzan wore an old silk jacket of her mother’s, one that would later be ruined by moisture in the van, and a necklace Nancy had made. They ate James’s favorite foods—cornbread, shrimp, and pound cake. Suzan had a few motel vouchers left, and afterward stayed with friends and volunteers for a few weeks each, but she felt she was imposing.

That summer, she returned to her van. It was different without James; she realized she’d gotten to know him better during their van life than she ever had before. Maybe it was his dementia, but as they drove around or sat together, squished amidst their stuff, he’d started to tell her long stories, over and over, of his youth in Georgia. She’d never heard the tales before, but she’d started to be able to picture it all. On her own, without his imposing figure beside her, Suzan was scared, and more than a little lonely. Most nights, she stayed tucked away in a church parking lot, without permission from the pastor, hidden between bushes and vans. The law wasn’t being enforced, but sleeping in the lot made her a kind of a criminal. “The neighbors never gave me up,” she said.

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Suzan told me she was in a fog of denial after James’s death, but it’s probably what protected her because homelessness is exhausting. “You start to lose it after a while,” she said. “You feel disenfranchised from your own society.” The Downtown Streets Team, a local homeless organization, had been helping her look for a long-term, stable housing solution. Indeed, Suzan told me that at various times, she and James had 27 applications in for affordable housing in Palo Alto. (When he died, she had to start over, submitting new applications for herself.) Her social worker at the local senior citizens center, Emily Farber, decided to also look for a temporary situation that would get Suzan under a roof for a few months, or even a few weeks. “We were dealing with very practical limitations: having a computer, having a stable phone number,” Farber said. Craigslist was only something Suzan had heard of. She’d finally gotten a cell phone through a federal program, but hadn’t quite mastered it.

For many months, Farber struck out. She didn’t think Suzan would want to live with three 25-year-old Google employees, or that they’d want her, either. She even tried Airbnb. Because Suzan didn’t have a profile, Farber used her own, and wrote to people who had rooms listed to say her 69-year-old friend needed a place to stay in the area for a couple of weeks. “We got three rejections in a row,” she said. Finally, in November, they found a room available for rent for $1,100—about 80 percent of her income from the trust and her widow’s benefits from Social Security. Suzan would have her own bedroom and bathroom in the two-bedroom apartment of a single mother. The mother crowded into the other bedroom with her 16-year-old son and seven-year-old daughter. The only downside for Suzan was that it was in Santa Clara, another charmingly bland suburban enclave in the South Bay, a half hour south of Palo Alto and a world away for Suzan. “It’s out of my comfort zone, but that’s OK!” she told me.

I met Suzan on the day she moved in, and the concept of being able to close a door was almost as unsettling to her as the concept of sleeping in the van had been. “I’m in this kind of survival mode,” she said, and had found a certain comfort in her van. “I’ve got this little cocoon I’m staying in, and everything is within arm’s reach.” She had a big blue mat in the back of the van, like a grown-up version of the kind kindergartners nap on, but soon she’d acquire a bed. She retrieved her old TV from her storage unit. She made a comfortable room, with chairs and a bed and a small table, and decided to eat her meals in there. She only signed a lease for three months, because it wasn’t really sustainable on her fixed income. She’d also applied for an affordable housing complex being built for seniors in Sunnyvale, one that would provide permanent housing for 60 senior citizens from among the 7,000 homeless people in the county at the time. She’d find out in April if she was selected in the lottery. All her hopes were pinned on it.

Mapping Suzan Russaw’s Life in Silicon Valley

In the first few weeks after her move to Santa Clara, Suzan spent a healthy portion of her limited income on gas, driving the Explorer back and forth to Palo Alto. After all, her post office box was there, and so were her social workers. Her errands demanded a lot of face time, and in some ways, she still filled her days the way she had before she got her room, moving around trying to solve her problems. Her car was still packed, too, as if she hadn’t let go of the need to drive in it, to move forward, to keep her stuff around her within arm’s reach, as if she were still without a home base.

Two afternoons a week she went to a Palo Alto food closet. She usually made it right before it closed, in the early afternoons. When her number was called, she went up to the counter to watch the volunteer sort through what was left on the shelves, finding the most recently expired items—these were older goods grocery stores couldn’t keep past their sell-by dates. Suzan’s politeness was, as always, almost formal, from an earlier era, when being ladylike was a learned skill. The volunteer would ask her if she wanted milk, or peaches, or a serving-size Baggie of cereal, and she’d say, “Yes, very much so!” These days, she got to take raw eggs instead of the boiled ones, a treat reserved for those with kitchens. Her requests were glancing rather than direct. “Have you any lettuce?” and the answer was often no. I said it seemed like an efficient operation. Suzan said, “I really know the drill!”

Suzan needed to visit her social worker, Julia Lang, at the Downtown Streets Team office to get the form that allowed her to go to an even better food bank. She asked the receptionist whether her social worker was in. She wasn’t, and Suzan explained she was looking for the food bank vouchers. Then the receptionist asked for her address. That stopped Suzan. The receptionist explained that the pantry was for Palo Alto residents, and Suzan was considering, for the first time, whether that counted her. Suzan explained that she and her husband had gone to the pantry the year before, and said they should be in the system. We waited while the receptionist looked. Suzan waved at someone she’d seen around for years, from her car-dwelling days. Suzan told the receptionist, again, that they really should be in the system. But they weren’t. Suzan said that was OK, and she would come back. The receptionist said, “Are you sure? I just need your ID and your address.” Suzan demurred. She needed to talk to her social worker. This is what it meant to have to leave her hometown. She was leaving the city where she and James had known people, the city where James had died, the city where she’d grown up and near where she’d raised her own daughter. It was the city where she knew where to go, where she’d figured out how to be homeless. It was the city where she knew the drill.

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That homelessness persists in Silicon Valley has puzzled me. It has an extremely wealthy population with liberal, altruistic values. Though it has a large homeless population relative to its size, in sheer numbers it’s not as large as New York City’s or L.A.’s. Some of the reasons could be found in the meeting on November 17, 2014, when the city finally overturned the car-camping ban. It had never been enforced because, as predicted, the Ninth Circuit had overturned L.A.’s ban. In the end, all but one person who’d voted for the ban the first time around voted to overturn it. The lone dissenter was councilman Larry Klein. “The social welfare agency in our area is the county, not the city,” he said. “To think we can solve the homeless problem just doesn’t make sense.”

This idea was repeated many times among city officials—that homelessness was too big an issue for the city to resolve. The city of Palo Alto itself has one full-time staff member devoted to homelessness, and it coordinates with county and nonprofit networks to counsel, house, and feed the homeless.

Suzan shows where she stored food in her car while homeless.

During the fight over the ban, the city tried to devise an alternative—a program that would allow car dwellers to park at churches—but then left the details up to the faith community to work out. Nick Selby, an attorney and member of the Palo Alto Friends Meeting House, said he and his fellow Quakers met with community resistance when they tried to accommodate three or four car dwellers on their tiny lot. Neighbors circulated a petition listing concerns like “the high prevalence of mental illness, drug abuse, and communicable diseases in the homeless population” and the risk of declining property values. But Selby said some of their concerns were fair. “People who objected were saying to the city, ‘What’s your program?’” Selby said. “And the city really had no answer to those questions.” Without a solid plan and logistical help from the city, other churches were reluctant to step forward. “The churches weren’t prepared to deal with this,” he said. After the church car-camping plan fell through, the city council said it had no choice but a ban.

Santa Clara County, too, struggles to address the problem. The county is participating in federal programs to build permanent supportive housing for the chronically homeless population, the population of long-term homeless who typically have interacting mental health and substance abuse problems. But land is expensive here, and the area is shortchanged by the federal formula that disperses funds. California, ever in budget-crisis mode, provides limited state funds. There isn’t a dedicated funding stream from the cities, which don’t necessarily pay a tax to the county for these projects, and local affordable housing developments are often rejected by residents as Palo Alto’s was. In September, the city of San Jose and the county announced a $13 million program to buy old hotels and renovate them as shelters, which will make 585 new beds available. While advocates credit the county’s efforts with cutting the estimated homeless population by 14 percent since 2013, the number of people like Suzan, who hide in their cars, is almost certainly underestimated. But most such efforts are centered in San Jose. Chris Richardson, a director of the Bay Area’s Downtown Streets Team, said what needs to happen is not a mystery: Other cities have to fund affordable housing, they have to fund more of it, and they have to do it in their own neighborhoods, without relying on San Francisco and San Jose to absorb all of the area’s poverty and problems. “You can’t just ship them down to the big, poor city,” he said.

When Palo Alto originally passed the car-camping ban, it also devoted $250,000 to the county’s homelessness program. When they voted to rescind the ban, council members asked for an update on what happened to the money. The city staff was not prepared to report on how it had been spent at that council meeting, more than a year into the funding. Members of the council again reiterated their desire to help the homeless. “Helping the homeless” was tabled, as a general idea, for another agenda at another meeting, as it always seems to be, or passed off to the county, or to someone else—and so helping the homeless is something nobody does.

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Through the winter, Suzan remained ill; it was a bad flu season. She kept paying the rent on her room, on her storage units, on her P.O. box in Palo Alto, and she tried setting aside money she owed on parking tickets. Some months she’d run out of gas money to drive the 15 miles to Palo Alto and check her mail or visit her social workers. She was waiting to hear about the affordable apartment.

In May, she was denied. Suzan had bad credit, both because of the unpaid storage unit she and James had lost and because otherwise her credit history was so thin. Julia Lang, one of her social workers, told me she couldn’t even get a credit score for Suzan. Lang said people get denied on credit, or because they make too little for affordable housing that’s supposedly intended for extremely low-income people, all the time. “When you’re that destitute and have gone through so many complicated situations, what are the chances that your credit’s going to be good?” she said.

Suzan was livid and despondent, and she decided to appeal. “I wasn’t going to take that lying down,” Suzan told me. “I was proud of myself.” Catholic Charities helped her appeal. Suzan had to write a letter showing how she intended to repair her credit, and that she understood why it was bad in the first place. During the months of back and forth, Suzan bought a new Jeep, only one year newer than the Explorer, in case she needed to sleep in her car again. In July, she learned she’d won her appeal. She had two weeks to get her affairs in order, pay the first month’s rent and security deposit, and move in. Her social workers helped her with some of the move-in costs, and she signed a lease for a year.

I saw Suzan again in August, about three weeks after she’d moved in. Her hair was trimmed. She was wearing a brightly colored muumuu, blue and green with tropical flowers—“It’s a housedress but you can wear it out on the street!”—and a green sweater tied around her shoulders. She seemed relaxed and rested, and I told her so. Her bed was full of folded clothes, and her room was still in disarray. She was trying to cull her storage unit so that she could get a smaller one and cut down on rent. Most of the people in her complex had been in the same boat as Suzan, or had been worse off. She pays $810 a month, the amount determined to be affordable for her income. It had taken her more than three years, help from at least three social workers, and thousands of dollars, but she was finally stably housed. At least, for a year.