Part VI San Diego
April 1 to April 4

The drive from LA to San Diego was spectacular as it went along the coastal highway. I watched the sunset into the ocean in a pool of blues an oranges. Arriving in San Diego felt like coming home. I can't believe that I almost stayed in LA for a week instead. The air was warm and friendly and the streets were wide open, full of people and interesting shops. I felt immediately comfortable. The downtown hostel was nice an bustling. I spent the whole evening doing laundry and watching the Godfather. I hadn't done laundry for five weeks and it was time, believe me it was time. The most interesting thing was that in my full dorm room of 10 girls, no one snored. I slept soundly and peacefully and woke up feeling rested.


I met some nice folks as I cooked my complementary all you can eat pancake breakfast. In fact, on gal, Gabriella and I made plans for the day. We drove to Old Town and explored the historic town and hiked to some high places that afforded nice views of the ocean and the city. The we walked all over Balboa Park. We saw amazing flowers and trees and museums. We picnicked in the sunshine and frolicked in the Rose Garden with roses named Playboy and Sunset. We discovered a lovely artist's village and delighted in chatting with the potters and painters. We wrapped up the evening with a wonderful view of the sunset from the Coronado beach and a tasty picnic from Whole Foods.


I moved to the Point Loma hostel in Ocean Beach. It was advertised as a peaceful and scenic alternative to the bustling chaos of the downtown hostel - a much "quieter" affair. Despite its low key profile, the hostel proved to be a "happening" place. There were several alternative spring break groups that were on their way to volunteer in Mexico that were staying there and my three bunk mates snored and sawed logs like fog horns and chainsaws. I got exactly no sleep. The school groups ran rampant into the night and then got up at the but crack of dawn. It was good motivation to get out and explore the area and go for a run. I made pancakes when I returned from my run and plans to go to Escondido.


Escondido is a town north of San Diego and home to Stone Brewery. Stone makes Arrogant Bastard. I was keen to go on a tour and get a free pint glass. While I was waiting for the bus, I struck up a conversation with all the other people also waiting. The conversation continued throughout the entire bus ride. I had only a tentative idea of what sort of transportation to take to get to Escondido and it included two buses and a train. I got the schedules from the info station and bought the first round of train tickets. As I studied the schedules, I realized that I would have to turn around and return to San Diego the moment I got to Escondido because of the limited running times of the trains and buses. The transportation inter-city seems to be aimed at commuters and the last runs are around 6pm. I decided to bag the Escondido plan and save it for another day. I sold my ticket to another passenger and spent the day in downtown San Diego.


I had a heart to heart in a 2nd hand store about what men want. It was a comical conversation which I will cherish for quite some time. I spent an hour in the library and skirted 4 or 5 Greenpeace activists and returned to Oceanside by 5 for the evening farmer's market. The market was a neighborhood wide affair complete with fruit and veggie vendors, ethnic foods vendors, art dealers and artists, buskers and spectators. One particular guitar player roped me in with own version of the Rolling Stones' Just My Imagination. His name was Gregory and he was a wonderful and charismatic musician. He played the blues like no other and he encouraged me to sing along with him. While we were improving a blues song, he encouraged a trumpet player to join in with us. The three of us jammed for about 30 minutes and then we all went our separate ways. I perused the rest of the vendors. I tasted some yerba mate chai that brought me to a new level of satisfaction. I also bought some half moon bone earrings with spikes to replace the ones I had lost.


I eventually made my way to the beach to watch the sunset and hang out with all the street kids. They are the same kids that hang out on Broadway in Seattle-black faded worn clothes, rucksacks, cigarettes, dogs and guitars. I somehow used to find there transient life-style romantic. But as I watched them abuse their dogs and get wild on drugs and alcohol, the allure of their air of freedom faded. They seemed all very involved in themselves and chained in by their attempt to be free. On kid noticed me and asked me how I was. He noticed that I was shivering and let me wear his hoodie for awhile. He even introduced me to some of his pals, who largely ignored me. Finally, they all scattered and I returned to the market area. I was stopped in my tracks by the sound of a drum. A djembe circle and a crowd of onlookers had coalesced in the middle of the road. I dropped my stuff and started to dance. It was another one of those serendipitous and quintessential occurrences that life is all about.


Oceanbeach-the neighborhood is home to the oldest co-op in the San Diego and two hostels. There are tons of cool restaurants, parks and beaches. There are a lot of hippies, musicians, surfers and street kids. The people of Oceanbeach have decided not to let any corporate business in and there are only mom and pop stores. It reminds me of Seattle in many ways. I sunk into Oceanbeach. It wrapped itself around me with its in eclectic people and red sunset cliffs. I think I could live in Oceanbeach and be very happy. I spent another snore littered night at the hostel and sometime in my awaking slumber, I decided to opt out of my adventure to Escondido and Stone Brewery. Instead, I sunk further into Oceanbeach.


I went running to the Sunset Cliffs Park. The cliffs dive straight into the ocean at sporadic intervals. There are enough sloping descents to allow surfers access. I ran to the end of the road and then meandered the two miles back to the hostel. I watched the surfers ride the waves and the dog walkers watch the surfers. The day was overcast but the scenery and the wildflowers and the sound of the ocean were still very vibrant. I returned to the hostel with the intention to return to the cliffs. I passed the day easily and returned to the sunset cliffs to watch the sunset. Then I went to a bar where Evan Bethany and Podunk Nowhere were playing. The cover was 6 dollars but I wiled my way in for free with a French accent. Evan turned out to be from Montana and Podunk Nowhere was simply out of this world.


I didn’t want to leave Oceanbeach or San Diego and the morning of my departure was bittersweet. I loved Oceanbeach and the little co-op and even the street kids. But I was ready to be delivered into the willing and able hands of a friend with a plan and who repeatedly encouraged me to trust him. I was gnawing at the opportunity to give up control and relax a little. I first had to brave a 13 hours bus ride with hour long stops in LA and Las Vegas. LA was turmoil and hostile energy. I stood in a very long line with a sinking feeling of dread until I caught the tail end of an announcement about Las Vegas. I abandoned my place in line to check out the announcement. My gut feeling told me to. I found that I needed to board a different bus right then and there. In Las Vegas, I opted to wait in a cozy chair in a nearby casino. Apparently, I wasn’t the first to have this idea and a security guard would repeatedly come over and threaten to kick out those who had their eyes closed. I managed to stay awake by watching a neurotic woman sort and rearrange the stuff into plastic bags. My brief 3 am encounter with Las Vegas did not whet my appetite for my future two night stay in there.

Sunset Cliffs, Oceanbeach

Blooming trees in the park

Sunset on the beach in Coronado

My virtual visit to Stone Brewery manifested in a mural on the side of a delivery truck

Sunset in San Diego

Part V Los Angeles
March 29 - March 31


The initial shock of driving into LA was not as great as I though it would be. From the freeway, LA looks a lot like any other big smoggy town with sky scrappers, industrial areas and the like. It was thrilling to see exits for Hollywood BLVD, Sunset BLVD and Santa Monica BLVD. Sarah has some friends that live in San Pedro, a burb of LA that we were going to stay with. I was happy to have them as a safety net and way to ease my toe into the hot bath tub of LA.


Sarah’s class was in Burbank, another burb of LA and I accompanied her there. LA, I learned, is really a very big conglomeration of smaller cities and suburbs. Burbank had a quaint city center and an even quainter farmer’s market. I discovered some fun used book shops, a couple interesting curio shops, the library and several breweries. I immediately felt better about LA. In fact, I didn’t encounter anything LAPDesque, no movie stars and even the glitz and glam seemed to be absent. I met Sarah for lunch at a brewery called BJ’s and we sat on the outside patio deck. I had a Belgian Wit and Sarah had a red ale, both of which were superb. After her class we went to Hollywood.


To be honest, I had though Hollywood would have been more glamorous, especially the Walk of Fame. However, the streets were lined with touristy knick knack shops and there were more tourists than Carter has pills. The first star that I saw was Brittney Spears. There are more then 18 blocks of stars and we proceeded to walk at least 1/3 of them. My eyes were pinned to the sidewalk. I was entranced by the famousness of it all and I read off the celebrity names that I recognized out loud. It’s amazing how intriguing the rich and famous are. There are people who are famous just for being famous! We saw Robin Williams, Bruce Willis, the Beatles, Bing Crosby…the list goes on and on. I took pictures of them all! We also saw the Chinese Theater where many stars had put imprints of the hands and feet in the cement as a sort of tribute or commemoration to a man named Sid. After much walking we were disappointed that we hadn’t seen the famous Hollywood sign on the hill so we figured out to how to drive by it. As we returned to our car, we saw a bunch of folks clustered around taking pictures of something off in the distance and looking through binoculars. My Aunt has a motto that often rings very true, “It there’s a line, stand in it.” So Sarah and I did just that and discovered that the point of interest was indeed the fabled and aloof Hollywood sign!!! It is amazing that we missed it because it became obvious that we would have been able to see it many times while we were walking the Walk of Fame. I guess that we were too focused on the ground. We were relieved to finally have observed this iconic and tacky land mark and triumphantly returned to San Pedro.


I said goodbye to Sarah the next day and explored Ben and Megan’s neighborhood of San Pedro. It was Sunday so downtown was fairly quiet. However, the Ports O Call Village was hopping. It was overrun with Latinos and Asians all amassing to eat fresh platters laden with seafood and garlic bread. They were taking in the tourist shops and generally having a damn good time. I slipped into some of the quieter art shops which were obviously remnants of an older and high society time. One of the proprietor informed me in a Brooklyn/British accent that she had dated Clark Gabel for four years and that the Ports of Call Village had been the most ritzy and upscale destination in the LA area. She seemed disappointed in the change but I think the area was still quite a destination. I spent the evening in the San Pedro brewery. I had a very tasty chocolate porter and chatted with a nice fellow who turned out to be quite creepy. I had originally hoped to stay one more night with Ben and Megan’s but the situation seemed tense and Ben and Megan’s family were in town so I decided to go to San Diego a day early. I wandered about Long Beach and lounged on the clean white sand for a couple of hours before catching a Greyhound bus South.

The Hollywood sign as viewed through the set binoculars on premises

The Beatles' star begins the Hollywood Walk of Fame

The Harry Potter Kids' foot and hand prints outside of the Chinese Theater

The star dedicated to Bruce Willis

The food production at Port O Calls Village, San Pedro

Part IV Mammoth Lakes, California

March 16-March 27

I caught a shuttle bus from Reno to Mammoth Lakes, California. It was about a five hour ride and I was the only passenger. The bus driver seemed content to tell me all he knew about the area. The bus was so noisy that I missed most of his information. But I did catch the volcanoes he was pointing out as well as the story about the the hard working Chinese railroad builders had to be housed on an island on Mono Lake for protection from the lazy and jealous Irish railroad builders. I also managed to sleep in between his spouts of information. My butt was good and tired and my neck and back were very cricked sideways but the time he delivered me to Sarah waiting in the parking lot of the Mammoth Lakes one and only fast food restaurant, Mac Donald’s. We had a cheerful reunion that involved poaching a hot tube at a local hotel and drinking beer while soaking up the bubbly warmth.

Mammoth Lakes is a small resort town nestled at the base of Mammoth Ski Resort in the high slopes of the Eastern Sierra. The locals all call it little LA as a lot of people from LA have cabins there and come up for the weekend to ski or rock climb. It is about 40 minutes from the Yosemite National Park entrance. It is flanked by the John Muir Wilderness and the Ansel Adams Wilderness. The town has an assortment of outdoor loving locals who m or may not be gainfully employed but who are certainly backcountry skiers or rock climbers and the ritzy high class ski bunnies fresh from LA an looking for some powder. Sarah both loves and hates Mammoth Lakes and I can see why. The setting is certainly breathtaking. The icy grey granite peaks of the high Sierra are ragged and glorious. The topo maps reveal quaint mountain lakes nested in those crags and the numerous trails beg to be explored. The proximity of Yosemite and the Wildernesses almost make up for the weird dynamic that permeates the town as a result of all the LA visitors. The outdoor opportunities here are not just limited to hiking, skiing and rock climbing either. I also found cool places to bike ride and run. There are also some kayaking opportunities.

The weather was glorious while I was there. The snow was piled 12 to 15 feet high but the roads and trees were bare. The sky was bright blue and the temperature stayed in the 60s most of the day though the nights would be cold and we would start a little wood fire in her stove. I developed a bit of routine for the two weeks that I stayed with Sarah. She works at the Water District and heads off to work around 7 am. I started reading a book called Escape where Carolyn Jessop discusses her life inside of a polygamist FLDS cult. Her dramatic first-person account detailed life inside the religious group and the unbelievable, mind-boggling abuses that occurred in her polygamist marriage. She was married to 60 year old Merril Jessop when she was 17 as the fourth wife. She had eight kids who had nearly 80 half siblings. She managed to escape after 17 years of marriage and became the first woman ever granted full custody of her children in a contested case with the FLDS. The book was so entrapping that I would read it for hours in the morning before meeting Sarah for lunch. I finished it in three days and went on to read Under the Banner of Heaven, another book by John Krakauer detailing more outrageous and egregious abuses undertaken by members of the FLDS cult. I don’t tend to take issues with other people’s beliefs but after doing some further research, I have to conclude that there are serious human rights that are being abused by many of the members of the FLDS and that there are many indoctrinated victims of the cult who do not realize the level of abuse that they are enduring.

Sarah and I would spend most of her lunch break discussing my readings and then she would go back to work and I would spend the rest of the afternoon running and researching in the library or the local coffee shop. Because of Matt’s unexpected gainful employment, I had an extra week on my hands. I had hoped to spend it on an organic farm but after hours of research and phone calls, I gave up on the idea. Sarah encouraged me to stay a third week with her and some of her friends offered to let me stay on their couch. In the end, I spent more endless hours on the internet figuring out interesting things to do in LA, LA hostels and LA transportation. I also spent quite a bit of time sorting out transportation options around LA, Las Vegas, San Diego and St. George. I also worked out some Las Vegas hostel options as I would be staying there two nights before flying to Missoula. I think I spent half of my time in Mammoth trying to figure out logistics for the final leg of my trip.

Sarah, and her boyfriend, Keith, and I found various entertaining things to do in the evening. On St. Patrick’s Day we went to the Tap for live music and corned beef and cabbage. I met all of her friends and danced and danced. I didn’t get piss drunk though as one always should on St. Patty’s day. I was still feeling like I didn’t like beer from all the Texas breweries. It would take me quite some time to loose that feeling. Sarah also invited me to join here at her African drum lessons. It was a really fun beginner’s affair. At one point we had such a grooving beat going on that I felt impelled to dance. The instructor loved and I felt so at home. It seems like I can find a vein of Africa everywhere I go. Little gems like the drum class are what life is all about, or at least what travel is all about! We cooked pasta at Keith’s and watched a horror movie called Mirrors. We ended up sleeping there. I was on a mat on the living room floor trying to fall asleep when Keith’s roommate stumbled in from a night on the town. I didn’t want to startle him so I said “hello” and that really startled him. He ended up laying down next to me to chat and he told me all about his attempts to get free drinks from all the gay LA men that were in town for Gay Week. Eventually the ticking clock drove him into his own room and I got some sleep.

Sarah and Keith had a three day weekend so we decided to go hiking and climbing in Yosemite. I was very reticent to go climbing. My knee and back ha been bugging me and I felt particularly incompetent as a climber. All my gym wall experiences had ended in fatigue and disappointment. I decided to be open and give outdoor climbing by best shot though. Yosemite has the largest and most solid granite rock wall around, after all. Not climbing in Yosemite is like going to Paris and not seeing the Eiffel tower. The entrance to Yosemite that is just outside of Mammoth was closed for the winter so we had to take the long way around to the other entrance. The drive was eight hours long and we didn’t arrive until around 2 am. We stumbled around Camp 4 in the dark looking for open camp sites, setting up our tents and transferring all of our food from the car to bear boxes. We had enough food to feed a small elephant for a week, I’m sure. Camp 4 is a walk in camp at the base of a very high granite wall. Climbers mob it in the summer time and leave all kinds of micro trash around. As a result, the black bears are a huge problem and they haunt the camp at night and break into cars that have food left in them.

It rained in the night and we decided to skip the rock climbing for the day. Whew! We hiked to Yosemite Falls instead. It was a very scenic, rainy and chilly affair but there appeared to be droves of hearty tourists who could not be sullied. There were a few diehards (or perhaps just really unprepared) people who were hiking in sandals and carrying paper bags with their picnic lunch inside – poor idea in the rain. The view from the top of the falls was very scenic. We had fleeting glimpses of the valley floor and Half Dome between the whispy rain clouds. Sarah and I went to the furthest overlook and contemplated our deaths. We both are hoping for some kind of spectacular death instead of rotting away from some chronic wasting disease. The problem with spectacular deaths is that they are also often stupid. Falling to my death at the base of Yosemite falls would be pretty epic but everyone would think that I had been horsing around to close to the edge and slipped. Sarah and I decided that if you were going to die that way you would really want to make it look purposeful by making eye contact with spectators and waving good bye to them. We thought that wearing a cape and your underwear over you pants would do away with any lingering doubt that you slipped or tripped. We made our way back from ledge and found Keith more than half way through a hip flask of whiskey and putting the finishing touches on a snow man. We took some compromising pictures of the snowman and headed down. I slipped on the way down and wrenched my left pointer finger. It still hurts every once in a while, almost two months later.

That evening, the rain still hadn’t let up and we huddled under a tarp and cooked soup for dinner. A black bear visited the campground as dusk settled in. It left us all feeling a bit uneasy about going to bed so we spent the rainy evening looking over our shoulders into the darkness for a glint of a beady bear eye. Sarah and I stayed up drinking whiskey and chatting. I had this sudden uneasy feeling. Over the course of the evening we had seen the bear here and there, pawing through empty campsites or approaching fellow campers while they were cooking. I realized that I hadn’t seen the bear in awhile and mentioned this to Sarah. We started casting around for a glimpse of the bear and I heard Sarah gasp. As I turned around to look behind me I got a square view of his reflective eyes approaching us from about a distance of 15 feet. Reflexes got the better of me and I let out a blood curdling scream. I mean I really let it rip and the bear turned and hightailed it back into the woods. Our adrenaline was pumping and we started to giggle and reflect about what the bear would have done had his approach not been discovered. We theorized that all he really wanted was a shot of whiskey to warm him during the cold, damp night. A fellow camper, apparently wakened by my scream, came over to check if we were okay. The bear had approached him unawares earlier in the evening while he was cooking dinner and we had warned him. He brought his whiskey with him and we all sipped away our fears.

The whiskey comforted me enough to go to sleep and the rain drowned out all the sounds of the night. At around 3 am, I was awoken by a sound, or I should say, the absence of sound. The rain had stopped, thank goodness. Then there was a giant thump on my tent and my heart jumped into my throat. The bear!!! Oh my god, the bear was clawing it’s way into my tent. I groped for my bear spray but stopped when there was no follow up thumping or ripping. I listened for a while longer but there was no sound so I went back to sleep. When I finally got up and unzipped my tent in the morning, I was barraged by snow. I stepped out into almost 5 inches of freshly fallen fluffy white snow. The silence had been snow! The plunking sound had been snow slipping of the tree branches onto my tent. I could find no trace of bear tracks in the snow either. Sarah and Keith had spent the night trying to stay dry. Their tent, a small circus tent with a pole in the middle and the four corners staked out, was a dismal affair and had buckled under the weight of the snow. We spent most of the day in the laundry mat drying their sleeping bags and clothes. It was actually quite agreeable and we had the company of several other soaked campers. We did a couple of short hikes and got our feet very wet and cold. We went to a rock climber movie in the evening. While we cooked dinner we saw no sign of the bear. But after Keith and Sarah went to bed, I saw its reflective eyes right in front of me on the way to the bathroom. I hollered at it but that didn’t really scare it away. I went to bed and stayed awake with an uneasy feeling for quite some time listening for the spooky sound of a bear snuffling around outside my tent. I never heard a bear and eventually fell into a restless sleep. The next morning, I inspected the snow for tracks and found clear prints leading through our cooking area, to the corner of my tent an then off into the woods. I felt eerie, very eerie. A black bear with no fear of humans is worse than the very biggest wild brown bear in Alaska.

The snow stopped falling and the overcast sky broke away into the clearest of blues. Everything was radiant in the sun. We took a very scenic and picturesque hike to Mirror Lake. It’s amazing how different the sun makes everything. My heart soared as high as the peaks and I felt like dashing between the falling snow clumps. We drove back to Mammoth Lakes via El Portel. The poppies and wild flowers made the green Irish-looking hillsides orange. It was truly stunning. Spring had arrived in the foothills of the Western Sierra. Sarah’s car overheated on a hill we stopped to drink a beer amidst the poppy fields while it cooled down. We beat a slow and steady retreat after that. The car seemed to overheat if we let the RPMs get too low. Yosemite had been a very endeavor and despite the cold rain and snow, we had a good time.

The next week in Mammoth was much the first; African drumming, dinner parties, running and coffee shop research. I went to Bishop, the nearest big town for a day. I biked and ran and went to a coffee shop there. I also looked for petroglyphs and bought some gloves at Kmart. The town had a couple quaint shops including a very large German style bakery. It was good to spend the day alone and I didn’t return to Mammoth until late in the evening in order to give Sarah and Keith some alone time together. The Yosemite trip had caused some tensions between all of us and Keith and I had been butting heads a tad.

Sarah had to go to LA for the weekend for a two-day prep course for an engineering exam that she was going to take. I decided to go to LA with her as both an adventure and means to get to San Diego. Mammoth Lakes is a transportation void. We went snowshoeing in the Mammoth Lakes basin the morning before we left. I was sad to leave Mammoth Lakes and the familiar coffee shop with its familiar set of unemployed locals. I was sad to leave my nice little routine and my favorite running trails. But most of all I was sad to leave Sarah. She is such a good friend and I always feel so welcome and at home with her and her friends. I got to bake and read and workout and have meaningful conversations. I also felt like I wasn’t putting Sarah out by staying with her. However, I also felt like I need to beat my fear of LA and dispel my movie generated stereotypes. I was determined to spend a couple of days there.

Mammoth Lakes Basin

Sarah and I snowshoe in the Mammoth Lakes Basin

Poppys on the hillside outside of Yosemite

Sarah and Keith in a winter snow-scape

Keith's snowman near the top of Yosemite Falls

Looking down from the top of Yosemite Falls

Warnings about slippery conditions that I should have heeded

El Capitan, the rockclimber's dream

Sarah and Keith's tent after a night of snowfall

Yosemite Falls

Part III Salt Lake City

March 12-March 16

I had a really early flight out of Dallas to Denver Colorado. Janice an Ty both drove through the morning rush hour traffic of Dallas. I am so grateful to have gotten a closer look at Texas, especially through Ty and Janice’s lenses. It proved to be a state of stark contrasts; Comanche and some close-minded road blocks versus Austin and progressive folks that support the biggest Whole Foods store in the world. Let’s just say that even the contrasts of big city and little town Texas didn’t prepare me for Utah.

My flight out of Dallas was delayed and I was stuck in Denver for a couple hours before I could get on a different connecting flight to Salt Lake City Utah. When I finally arrived, the sun was hanging low on the horizon over the Great Salt Lake and the Wasatch Mountains were glowing rosily. Initially, I had booked my flight to Salt Lake City with the intent to go backpacking with my friend Matt, who I worked with in Alaska. Unfortunately for me and fortunately for him, he landed himself a permanent job with the BLM at the Visitor’s Center in Escalante National Monument in Southern Utah. His job started two days after I arrived in SLC and, needless to say he was ensconced in preparing for his departure, saying goodbye family and friends and foreclosing on a house that he was buying in Escalante. Instead of canceling my flight, I just decided that I would spend some time with his family and explore the suburbs of Salt Lake City.

I felt bad about descending upon him during such a stressful and monumentous time, but not too bad. It had, after all, been his idea to do some backpacking in the first place. I had my ticket long before he got this new job and it was going to cost more to cancel it then it had initially to buy it.

We made the best of it though. Matt took some time to hike to the highest peak on Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake with me. He also gave me full use of his beloved Toyota Tacoma, Zoe, for a day when he had a bunch of other stuff to do. His brother and sister-in-law also took care of me. In fact, Heather invited me to a monthly Gutsy Gals Adventure group meeting. This month’s topic was cake decorating. I had looked at their website and the pictures from some previous meetings. They had gone snow shoeing, without snowshoes mind you one month, and had talked about how to recycle another month. I was a little ambivalent about the whole ordeal, especially since I knew little to nothing about cake decorating and felt a little out of place in the midst of all these Mormons. However, all my fears were for naught. I was warmly invited into the neatly manicured house in the SLC suburbs despite my dirty Carharts and heathenism.

There were about seven young women, most of whom were married and had kids in tow. The host was quite the cake decorator and she had some juicy little hints and tricks to help us make the most amazingly decorated cake we could muster. For example, you will have a much easier time frosting your cake if you first coat it with a solution of warm water and powdered sugar. You can also make you frosting professionally smooth by lightly placing a napkin or a piece of paper on the frosting and smoothing your finger over the paper. The technique really makes the frosting perfectly smooth and seamless! The host had an array of colored frostings as well as pastry tubes and decorating tips. She also had a nifty little book with laminated pages that you could practice making sweet peas or roses or star patterns with. I actually had a really good time and felt just like I was one of the “gals” stepping out of our comfort zone for a gutsy cake decorating adventure.

I drove Matt’s truck to Ogden to go for a run along the river trail. Then I attempted to find and explore the downtown area. It was a dismal affair with most of the shops closed for the evening or closed for good. The brewery was open but I had been there when mom and I passed through earlier in February. I felt little need to stop in again.

Matt left early Sunday morning. I out of church with Heather and Chad and went for a run instead. When they got back from church, they drove me to the bus stop and I made my way to Salt Lake City. I had several hours to kill before my Greyhound Bus left for Reno at 10:30 pm. I decided to go to a double feature of Bruce Lee movies at a movie theater/pub about a mile away. The establishment was pretty hip. You could order local micro brews and food and then eat and drink them in the theater. There were long shelves attached to the back of the rows of seats to eat off of. The movie started late and I had to leave to walk back to the station before the first movie was over. I was wishing with all my heart that I had a car and I was dreading the night bus and tired of carrying my bag and I especially wanted to finish the Bruce Lee movie. It was captivating.

As I have said before, Nevada is best at night. So I was at least going to do that right and I had a humorous yet no nonsense flight attendant, I mean, bus driver. He actually got on the loud speaker and started into the flight attendant routine, “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. For your safety, we ask that all seat backs and tray tables be in the upward and locked position. Please stow all of your personal items in the safety bins above your head or under the seat in front of you and please keep your seatbelts locked until the captain has turned off the indicator light…oh sorry wrong announcement.” I slept fitfully on the bus and was blurrily awake for some of the stops. I arrive in Reno around 5am.

I had figured out the locations of several libraries, coffee shops and book shops in the vicinity of the Greyhound Bus Station. I had seven hours to fill before my bus to Mammoth Lakes, California in the Eastern Sierra. Unfortunately, I lost the paper with my directions somewhere in transfer and all the phone books in the station had the pertinent pages torn out. Once it became light out, I found my way to a riverside trail and then to a particularly quaint coffee shop. I spent all morning and afternoon there. I read, but mostly, I eavesdropped. There was some really interesting dialogue between some regular patrons. I couldn’t help but write some of them down in the book I was reading.

View from the highest peak on Antelope Island

Buffalo on Antelope Island

My victorious arrival atop the peak

Gutsy Gals cake decorating

Part II Comanche, Texas
March 6- March 16


I met Janice outside of the Dallas airport. I had vague description of Ty’s mom and her vehicle from Ty. I was hoping that she would recognize me, a slightly disheveled tall blond with a big backpack, and flag me down, which she did. She proceeded to curse her way through Dallas/Fort Worth rush hour traffic. She was a bundle of piss and vinegar and we chatted amicable the whole 3 hour drive to Ty’s beyond organic ranch/farm outside of Comanche Texas. The drive was a whirlwind of stories, expletives and swerves. She was opinionated, experienced, well-traveled, pragmatic, no-nonsense, hip and funny as hell. She currently resides most of the year in Tanzania with her current husband who works on cell phone towers. She raised her first child, Ivy, as a “flower child” in Taos New Mexico. She had Ty with her second husband, who she claimed was an amazing outdoors man. They roamed the deserts and wild lands of the southwest. She eventually moved to Texas to raise goats and cattle when Ty was in High School. I am not entirely sure of the exact chain of events, but at some point, she married her 3rd husband, moved to the current ranch outside of Comanche. They continued to raise goats and cattle until they moved to East Africa for her husband’s job. Ty, after obtaining his masters degree from the University of Montana in Geography returned to the ranch and took the operation over. He started a second venture, Windy Hill Organics and has been engaging in a variety of methods of distributing freshly grown veggies to local markets and restaurants. His parents come back to Texas periodically. Janice, for example was back for a couple months to help with the labor intensive work that goes into farming and ranching in the spring. However, for all intents and purposes, Ty is the sole orchestrator of both the business, marketing and physical aspects of the ranch/farm.


I was much calmer on my return to Texas than I was during my first encounter. When mom and I drove through Texas a month earlier, the wind had been blowing and the sky was black and ominous. When we tried to find a campground we were spooked by the emptiness of the nearby town. We found out that the electricity was out. We opted to drive 50 more miles to the next town and as we pulled away the rain began to pelt down. Needless to say, the wind had initially made me anxious and the following events just compounded my anxiety. This time, the sun was shining and Janice and Ty was nothing if not welcoming. I felt instantly at home around Janice and she left me to my own devices at the ranch. Ty was bar tending at a wine bar/restaurant in a nearby town. He had to pick up a second job to support his farm. I settled into the rustic leather with wood-frame couch to wait. He got home early and we caught up briefly before going to bed. We had a big work day the next day and wanted to be well rested. I had a bedroom to myself and it was furnished with a wooden framed bed, several small chairs with Native American print upholstery and silver brads and old black and white and sepia photographs. It also had 2 book shelves overflowing with books on all sorts of topics. I chose the Gospel of Judah but got bogged down by the archaic text and settled into Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. As I read about asparagus in the spring, I slipped into the deepest most undisturbed sleep I had experienced for a month and a half.


Ty’s place proved to be something of a vortex. My phone went bonkers and refused to work. My watch’s screen went blank and my ipod, which has had only one working button for years, began to work perfectly. Ty’s mp3 player, on the other hand, quit working altogether. When I left Ty’s my phone started working again, the screen on my watch brightened up again and my ipod regressed back to a state worse then it had been. The buttons stopped working AND the screen went blank. I fell into an uneasy routine at Ty’s. I always slept well, thankfully. And I enjoyed having tea coffee with them in the morning. Then I would hover around Ty or Janice, trying to make myself useful. There was a lot to do but it I got the feeling that it was the sort of stuff that I couldn’t really help with. There was CSA logistics to work out, seed and feed ordering to be done and several random farm jobs such as harvesting greens or turning a raised bed. On the first day, Ty’s sister, Ivy, her husband, Randy and two of his co-workers came over to rototill and augment the garden beds. I tried my best to be useful but mostly hovered in what I suspected was a really annoying way.


I did eventually manage to make myself useful with inoculating the 34 baby goats. Ty, Ivy and I wrangled bleating baby goats and held them while Janice inoculated them.They struggled and bleated at first and we had to watch out that they didn’t buck their heads and catch us with their budding horns. When they quite struggling they were quite adorable and I felt like I was holding a human baby. We would mark them with a blue crayon and then go and catch the next one. The first fifteen or so weren’t that challenging to catch. I found that I could sneak up on the ones that were trying to suckle on their moms or attempting to eat some hay. But the last fifteen were a bit more challenging. We found that we had to team up and corner a baby goat under a tree or against the fence and more then once Ty or I dived for a kid and ended up with a handful of yucca instead. In the evenings, after the heat of the sun had relented a bit, I would go for a run. Janice assured me that it was too early to have to worry about rattlesnakes, a worry that hadn’t even occurred to me. We would eat dinner when I returned. The most memorable was a homemade pizza with Ty’s pesto made from cilantro and garnished with goat cheese and heirloom Texas groan tomatoes. We had Ty’s lettuce mix on the side.


On the evening that Ty had to work, Janice and I drove the 25 miles to have dinner at his place of employment. She regaled me with more stories and sipped on very expensive glasses of wine. She eventually went home and left me to hand out at the bar until closing time. Ty’s co-workers were very friendly and several, who weren’t currently working, were kicking back cold beers at the bar. We all lingered after closing to chat and have some final drinks. Jared, one of the bar tenders brought out his guitar and djembe and three of us jammed for awhile. Ty and I introduced Jared to Josh Ritter and his heart wrenching song, Kathleen. Jared taught me some simple Modest Mouse chords and we all sang Wagon Wheel. We didn’t stay late but I think it was one of the first times that I had hung out with my peer group in ages.


Ty seemed to be completely ensconced in his farm. He had eggs to collect, fertilizers to apply, lettuce to harvest and plant, fences to mend, orders to make, advertising to complete, hay and feed to buy, the list goes on. I couldn’t believe all that he’d accomplished in the 6 or so months since he had taken over the ranch. He had purchased a green house, served as president of the local Farmer’s Market, set up a CSA and organized the selling of greens to several restaurants. Unfortunately, despite all of his efforts, he is encountering a lot of road blocks especially in the form of consumers. The most obvious obstacle is his location and the people there. Comanche Texas and the nearby town of Brownwood are hardly meccas of diversity and folks looking for local and organically grown produce. Nor is the area nesting or propagating grounds for grounds for progressive green living. In fact, it seems to be a fairly empty place in general. Many of the town’s in the vicinity of Comanche have main streets lined with empty store fronts. I think these are some of the reasons that Ty struggles to find CSA members and like minded peers in general. In addition, he is met with hostility on several fronts including that of the local farmer’s market. I really admire him for persevering in his pioneers efforts in a place where the majority’s values are so different from his own. After having said that, I should make it clear that not all of Texas is so. Austin and San Antonio are both cultural meccas with co-ops, breweries and live music. We took a couple days to tour around some breweries. We drove towards Austin and went to five breweries as well as the biggest Whole Foods. While there, we met several people who were interested in being a part of Ty’s ventures or at least in helping him along the way.


The following are my detailed notes on the breweries that we visited. Alas, I managed to loose my notes on Fredericksburg and the Dodging Duck Brewery. But I tried to remember what I could. We also rated the beer. If I really liked it I gave it a * and if Ty really liked it, he gave it a [] or if only sort of liked it he gave it a [.


Fredricksburg Brewing, Fredricksburg: I really can’t remember much about the beers here. They were unremarkable. I remember that, which is disappointing because the brewery was located in a very German influenced town and had German styled beers, which tend to be my favorite.


Dodging Duck, Boerne: Nice little establishment with an awesome logo and breezy outdoor seating overlooking a river overflowing with geese, ganders and other water-fowl.

Quaker Oats Pale Ale: Slightly coconut order, cloudy pale in color. Startling first taste. The name Pale Ale is entirely too misleading. This brew is definitely in some other category. It incorporates oats, citrus and coconut. Not bad, but definitely not a pale.

Luckenbacher Hefeweizen: Aroma is slightly bready with hints of clove. Cloudy and pale gold in color. Very clovey taste, lasting long after initial taste. Watery and poor head retention.

Beyond the Pale Irish Red Ale: Aroma has little to no hops. The color is a nice deep amber red and clear. No head retention that I can recall. Has a mild bland taste with only a faint smattering of hops. The overall taste is lingering barley bitterness.

Fowl Play India Pale Ale: Floral and citrus aroma. Clear and pale in color. Taste is more than a fowl play. It is just like burnt dirt according to Ty and just like soap according to Rachel. This is by far the worst dirty soapy beer yet. (I think….the nitro vanilla may have been the dirty soapy one…)

Duck and Adams Nitro Vanilla: I can’t remember the details of this beer. I think that it may have had an awful bitter barely aftertaste that wouldn’t go away. I also think it was super watery despite the nitro tap.


Freetail, San Antonio: Freetail just opened this Thanksgiving! It is an easy to locate brewery near a military base and in the heart of several strip mall complexes. It had an iconographical windmill near its entrance. The taproom was open and airy with big screen TVs, a great view of the brite tanks from the long bar. The beer taps were swirly colorful glass blown by one of the brewers. The descriptions of the different brews were very poetic and accurate! The chips and salsa were average but the service was excellent and the brewer was willing to chat with us and enlighten us on many of the finer points of his brews. He also gave us free stickers, a huge bonus in our book!

La Rubia, a blond ale: Our ubiquitous blonde mistress - a temptress from the tap to the glass. Straw golden, effervescent and delicious - fine white foam delivering the faint scent of Northwest hops. Perfect for quenching your thirst on a hot Texas day. La Rubia was much more hoppy then the Helles we tried in Fredericksburg.

Rye Wit: Untraditional Belgian-inspired beer brewed with raw wheat and 15% malted rye; seasoned with coriander and orange peel. Tongue-in-cheek take on an ancient classic of the beer world. Delicately spicy, but assertive enough to take on the richest of flavors. Need we say more? Ratings: *

XXXtra Pale Ale: AKA Tres Equis and Triple Extra Pale. this extremely pale beer triples nothing but our faith in the power of the hop to solve all of life’s mysteries. Floristic and spicy aromas that preclude a similar taste, with a long-lasting head. It is hopped with Galena and Ahtanum. It is slightly creamy and full-bodied. Bottom line: not dirty soapy or soapy dirt! Ratings: []

The Rube: Unsophisticated, country bumpkin, hick, hayseed, chawbacon, yokel, yahoo—all accurately describe our lovable Belgian-inspired blonde ale. Not to be confused, with its sophisticated, uptown sister La Rubia—the Rube plays havoc with a variety of estery fruit flavors and spiced aromas created in the mysterious fermentations of our wit yeast strain. The aroma is slightly hoppy and bready. The bready aroma and flavor is due to the Belgium yeast and the hoppy flavor is attributed to Warrior hops. In fact, the The Rube is simple a Belgian yeast version o La Rubia. Ratings: *

2 Timer: Conscious of waste but not bashful to be caught "cheating", 2Timer is brewed off the second runnings of Old Bat Rastard. Simple and moderately sweet, yet assertively bitter--like a spurned ex--there is nothing "ordinary" about 2Timer. This is an ESB with hoppy, carmely and not to bitter flavor. It has a thin body but that seems to mesh well with the beer’s average profile. Overall this is an unassuming beer with a well-balanced taste. Freetail Pale Ale: Open source beer, beta version. Deep copper hue with a rich, caramel aroma and subtle hop perfume. Aggressively bitter finish balancing the residual malt-sweetness. We noted that the bitter flavor is a perfect balance to the malty sweetness. Ratings: ½ *

Tadaria IPA: Tadarida—the genus of the Freetail bat—“shines like a shaft of light, when there is darkness all around.” A beacon of hop fortitude in hop crisis, this intense India Pale Ale will remind you that the world has a way of righting itself. Cheers to the power of the hop! (Galena, Pallisade, Ahtanum) Rachel noted that this beer was like a gummy worm with out the flavor. Ty noted it’s citrus and floral flavors. It is certainly what it is supposed to be. Ratings: []

Extra Who: Unfortunately, there is no written description for this beer. However, the Extra Who is essentially the Extra Pale with Belgian yeast. We noted clove, banana, cinnamon and honey flavors. Ratings: *

Mocha Shadow: Again, there is no written description for this beer. It is supposed to be a chocolaty version of Foreshodow described as follows: Black with notes of roasted coffee, warm campfire smokiness, dark fruit and subtle spice - the 4Shadow forebodes an even darker future for the wary denizens of Freetail. We liked this beer but didn’t really note anything remarkable.


Bluestar, San Antonio: This brewery is located near the “heart of San Antonio.” This brewery is making itself quite the destination. It has a cycle shop upstairs, hosts live music twice a week and offers brewing classes. It also has local art and interesting speakers. The brewery is open and has outdoor seating. I really enjoyed the atmosphere and the hanging bikes.

GOLDEN LAGER: This Light tasting, flavorful continental style lager with German hop overtones. This beer is excellent choice if you prefer a more tractional smooth mild beer. Rating: [

PEACH LAMBIC: This sour ale had a strong aroma of peaches. The flavor is akin to a jolly rancher or sour patch kid. Ty was startled by it’s less than beer like qualities and in fact, disapproves. Rachel likes this lambic much better than the horrible plum lambic from Glacier Brewery in Anchorage. Ratings: * RASPBERRY WHEAT: This wheat beer fell well within the stylistic guidelines of a wheat beer. It smelled of sun ripened raspberries and bread. The flavor was slightly biscuity and clovey. The raspberry flavor melded well with the wheat flavor. Ratings: *

PALE ALE: A well-balanced, highly hopped American Ale, similar to those known throughout the American Northwest. An excellent example of a big-flavored, hand-crafted beer with the sharp, clean, bitter finish of Cascade hops. We noted earthy and floral aromas as well as the distinct scent of cascade hops (recognized by Ty, but sorely overlooked by Rachel) . The beer had a creamy taste and a full mouth-feel, especially after a vigorous frothing. It had a slightly bitter finish due to the cascade hops. Rating: []

OAK CASK PALE ALE: We completely overlooked the aroma and the flavor of this beer. It was completely flat with no head. This is due to the fact that it is naturally carbonated in an oak cask. Perhaps we should have tasted this beer first.

KING WILLIAM ALE MMVIII: This beer is referred to as a barleywine style ale. The style originated in Britain and is the biggest beer (malt, hops and alcohol content) in the ale family. We noted that it tasted worse than cough syrup, worse than kid’s Robitusin.

STOUT: Creamy, robust, Irish style dry stout, full of flavors from deep-roasted barley malts. The slight hint of chocolate is born of the meticulous marriage of malts and hops. Originating in Ireland, and now brewed here in Texas, this is a beer for those who desire a big taste. We noted that this stout had little to no aroma, was watery, had low alcohol flavor and left a distractingly bitter barley flavor in the end. It had not sweet malt flavor at all. We noted toasty, burnt, biscuit and coffee flavors.


Cedar Grove Steakhouse, Wimberley: This brewery had nice outdoor seating with twinkly lights and good company. The server was helpful and seemed to no what would be the best for us better than we did (i.e. the cheese). They had interesting appetizers, all fried.

Heaven Viessen: Typical German hefe with strong wheat flavor. Low on clove. Lightly citrusy, slightly bitter.

Sweet Transition Ale: Creamy, butter, Randy likes this beer much better then the hefe. We noted its full body.

Fire Rock Pale Ale (Blanco): Nicely aroma hoped, but low on bittering hops. We noted that this ale was very smooth and that it had a nice finish.

Abba Red Ale: Aroma de orange, with strong coffee and burnt dirt flavors. Dos Equis Amber: Rachel notes that she doesn’t like beer anymore ;(

Porter: We have lost focus and are distracted by the appetizers and our ravenous hunger. The porter fell by the wayside. Perhaps we are all done with beer by this point.


Uncle Billy’s Brew and Que, Austin: Conveniently located with valet parking or, if you prefer a shuttle from the distant parking area. The wait staff sported shirts that said “we serve the four food groups: beer, pork, bird and brew.” Our bartender was brutally honest, especially with her rating of the salsa. She did give us the brewer’s breakdown of the different beers, which was really enlightening.

Blonde Ale: This beer is actually a kolsch styled after an American Cream Ale. However, it uses German malts and hops. It is crisp, clean and refreshing. It reminded us of PBR or Budweiser. We should tell Randy about this beer. Ratings: R, [

Agave Wit: This wit beer is Belgian style ale with hints of orange peel and coriander both in the aroma and flavor. It reminded of Bluemoon, to the letter. I was extremely disappointed in the lack of agave flavor. Ratings: *, [

Organic Amber Ale: This ale is creamy. The perle, fuggle and goldings hops are well balanced. We enjoyed the crisp carbonation of this beer.

Axe Handle Pale Ale: Rachel enjoyed the name of this beer. It is described as the “typical west coast pale.” It has citrus and floral aromas. Ty raves that this is his FAVORITE smell in the world; duly noted. The body is smooth with a perfect fullness. There is good head retention and the legs run straight down the glass. The aroma and flavor hops are simcoe and the synergy between aroma and flavor creates a pleasant sensation within the nose and mouth. Ratings: [], *

Woodeye Rye IPA: This beer is made with 16 % rye malts. It has a very floral aroma. Rachel notes a bit of an earthy aroma and flavor, which could be attributed to the rye malt. Ty doesn’t note much of an earthiness at all, especially in comparison with the Ace Handle. This beer is bittered by Columbus hops and scented with cascade hops. This beer is also dry hoped. Ratings: []

Burnout Stout: This stout has a nice freshly roasted coffee and hazelnut aroma. It is smooth, full and creamy as well as perfectly carbonated. The head is tan and the color is deep dark brown. The beer is perfectly balanced between bitterness and malty sweetness. Ratings: *, [] North By


North by Northwest, Austin: This brewery is decorated with Asahel Curtis photos and is a hail back to the Northwest style beers. It also played a Jacob Dylan song.

Duckabish Amber Ale: We noted a strong hoppy aroma. The initial taste is of unmalted grains, most unpleasant. The hop flavor is a bit too light. This amber has a super sweet milk-dud/ caramel flavor that lingers. Northern Light

Golden Ale: Rachel and Ty both agree that this ale has a distinct asparagus aroma and flavor. It is crisp and light on the tongue. It is an unassuming, water-like beer, good for a hot day or when you crave asparagus and it’s not asparagus season.

PY Jingo Pale Ale: Cascade hops give this beer a floral, citrus aroma. It is creamy with good head retention. The taste is floral and citrusy. The aroma and flavor work well together. The ale is bitter but not over the top. Rachel feels like this beer is great for after work but only if the sun has not set yet. Ratings: [], ½ *

Okanogan Black: This beer uses English ale yeast and is similar to Weltenberg Brewery in Germany. It has a tan head that did not retain well. It had no hop aroma or flavor. However it had a malty, ice cream like finish. It has an enticing dark copper color.

Bavarian Hefe: Clove and banana aroma and flavor mingle and linger. It has a very thin head with poor retention. Ratings: 1/3 *

Cherry Lambic: Rachel thought this was a great lambic. It is nothing like a cherry sour patch kid. It made Ty think about the similarities between sour ale yeast and kombucha mother. Irish Stout: We noted a slight bitterness that tipped the gag reflex a tad. However, it was more malty than anything. It was water, had poor head retention and an annoying grain aftertaste.

Tu Helen Bock: This is a German lager. We found it to be interesting.

Ty's lettuce greens

Beer tasters at Billy's in Austin

Bikes and Brew at Blue Star, San Antonio

Bluestar's sampler with a lambic being the third from the right

North by Northwest's grain silo, Austin

Part I, First Installment of Post Mexico Travels
March 1st-March 6th

Traveling in the USA is like no other!


I can communicate with almost everyone and I can definitely read all the signs. If I don’t know where what something is, I can simply ask, simply and plainly in English. And the real kicker is that I can understand the answer. Learning the template questions in a foreign language is small beans compared to understanding the answers! I blend in too! I never thought I would be overly excited about fitting in with the crowd but after sticking out like a pale ghost in Ghana and like a giant in Japan and like an ignorant American in a variety of other countries, I blend right in with the rainbow of individual color schemes in the US. As a result, I feel like less of an intruder, or perhaps a better way to put would be a taker-advantage-ofer. However in ma there as any ways, traveling around the USA is also more difficult, especially without a car or camping gear.


As you may recall, the first 1/3 of my trip was driving from Missoula to Miami with my mom and her trusty Subaru outback which was loaded heavy with camping gear. It was, I realize now, quite a luxury to be able to drive to remote State and National parks, trail heads, stores, and breweries. It was also a luxury because it was provided a very reliable and comforting safety net. It’s steel frame, sturdy windows, locking doors and reliable engine could always serve as Plan B in plan A didn’t work out. Not only could we go where we wanted but we could go when we wanted and proved to be one of the greatest luxuries of all. I found that I was at the mercy of Greyhound bus schedules more than once. I would arrive at seedy stations at 4 am (thank you Reno) with no one to pick me up or else I would have to hang out at a bus station until 11:30pm for a bus to depart because the last city bus from the hostel to the station arrives at 6:30 (thank you Salt Lake City). Moreover, as silly as it may sound, even with inflated gas prices, driving with two people is much cheaper. Having a car also means the ability to have as much stuff as you want with you, and I’ve never wanted more than a car load.


This final point, not being able to carry a variety of items for a variety of situations, forced me to decide exactly what I would need for the next 3 months and nothing extra. I had to choose things that would be carry-on airplane friendly and that would meet my varied weather and activity criteria. I was planning to be in very hot and cold climates as well as backpacking. My knife, stove, lighter, iodine and thermo rest, all crucial backpacking items, had to be left behind as well as a variety of books, my pillow, skirts, day pack, computer, winter coat, towel and pajama pants. I took running/hiking shoes, shorts, sleeping bag, first aid kit, one water bottle, coffee cup, camera, cell phone, mp3 player and respective chargers, notebook, 2 books (Fire on the Mountain by Edward Abbey and Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson), hiking boots, Tevas, jeans, fleece pants, long underwear set, hat, gloves, undies and socks, 2 short sleeve shirts, fleece jacket and raingear. I managed to get all of this in one backpack but only if I wore my boots. In hindsight, I packed very well and the backpacking gear that I left behind was augmented by friends.


The Florida Keys, where I stayed for a couple days after returning from Mexico, was very windy and touristy. Those seem to be the notable things. A brief trip to Key West proved to be disappointing due to the tourist horde fresh off the cruise ships, toting cameras and licking gooey ice cream cones. I did get a glimpse of the southern most point in the United States where there was a brief clearing of the horde. I find myself basing my days around running. I ran nearly every day on the flat trails around Cudjoe Key. I read quite a bit and Mom, Jo and I cooked some tasty salads. I also studied the dynamic between young and old and young at heart. There are a lot of snow-bird retirees that flock to the Keys and they do it in several unique and creative ways. Dan and Jo, for example, live in a gated community called Venture Out and they have a swimming pool, tennis courts and organized Saturday dances, pinochle tournaments and pancake breakfasts. They had fancy rules about what the houses could look like and where cars could be parked.


Jo’s brother and sister in law, however, were camping in a camper and tent in a camp ground just down the road. The campground was filled with various tent/RV/Motor- home setup with varying levels of permanency. When we walked through for a visit there was a lively group of folks sitting in plastic camp chairs with beer cozies in their hands and smiles on their faces. They hollered at us, asking us who we were looking for (we must have looked lost). We told them and they responded, oh yeah, he’s right over there you go straight past that red RV and then you turn right and walk to the end of the lane and his place is on the right, on the water. Do you need a map? And then they asked us where we were from and if we wanted any grilled plantains. YES!!! We visited and it was low key and low stress, a little opposite from the other setting. Then as we were leaving we encountered another group of revelers in plastic chairs with beer cozies and a BBQ warming up. There were several people that we recognized from the previous gathering. They invited us over and we chatted some more. They were a very open group and we found out that there are several weekly get togethers throughout the campground. Sounds fun and I could see myself retiring to a snowbird setting like that, but certainly not the Venture Out one! I guess not all Floridian nomads are created equal.


I was relieved and sad to leave the Florida Keys and the car keys. I was relieved because the area seemed to suck my energy and motivation. The wind was upsetting. There seemed to be nothing to do. Actually there was a lot to do. Key West is full of tourist activities such as Hemingway’s House and the furthest southern point in the USA. More accurately, I didn’t have the motivation to do it. I also slept poorly and often was wide awake on the couch before Dan came into start the coffee at 6 am. I was relieved to get out “on my own.” My mom and I got along surprisingly well, but even if you love someone dearly 4 weeks in their constant company can be too much.


But leaving my mother and the comfort, and insight that she gave me was as much of a sad affair as it was happy. We really did do well together and I was only mildly mean and childish on a few occasions. My mom left the comfort of the Keys on the same day as I did. She had bought tickets to Italy and I was strangely and unfoundedly worried about her on her own. As I flew to Dallas to meet a good friend, she flew to Rome without any knowledge of Italian. However, we all know my mother is very intelligent and resourceful and we also know that any idiot can travel through Europe. So she would be and was, it turned out, fine.

"Travel is intensified living-maximum thrills per minute and one of the last great sources of legal adventure. Travel is freedom. It's recess and we need it."

Both international and local travel are very important to me. I like to travel "close to the ground." I try to meet and communicate with people in their native language and not just rely on a taxi or purchased smiles. I like to seek the authentic side of a culture and not the pristine, manicured, sanitized side made palatable for western tourists. It is important to give culture the benefit of an open mind and to see things as different but not better or worse. I think that any culture has much to share.

Of course, travel, like the world, is a series of hills and valleys. I try to positive and optimistic. Even an adverse situation can turn into a good story or learning experience in the end. If something is not to my liking, I change my liking. Travel can make one a better citizen of the world. Our earth is home to six and half billion equally important people. I think that encountering other cultures and a smattering of these other six and half billion people is humbling as well as empowering.

I think the most important part of travel is that it has the ability to destroy ethnocentricity and damaging stereotypes. It helps one to understand and appreciate different cultures. By engaging in thoughtful travel and then subsequently engaging in provocative and critical discussions, one can work to breakdown harmful cultural barriers. One can use multi-cultural experiences and perspectives as tools to change narrow-minded conversations into a learning experience. Travel engages one with the world and I think it is more important then ever to understand different perspectives and points of views.

Travel has certainly changed me and drastically altered my world view. I would love to live and work in every place that I travel, become fluent in the language and make long lasting friendships. I have yet to find the perfect way to do this...have a meaningful experience without taking away a job from a local or otherwise adversely affecting the local culture. Travel can often times be as harmful as it is helpful. However, the positives, at this point, outweigh the negatives for me. Travel broadens perspectives and teaches new ways to measure quality of life. Rather than fear the diversity on this planet, travelers and knowledge seekers can celebrate it. It is necessary to look beyond one's hometown norms. The experiences and ideas that one can bring home and share are knit into their own character and those people that they interact with. To look outside is to look inside and find a whole new plane of existence where tolerance and understanding work to disciminate hurtful stereotypes and dehumanizations that lead to violence and ubstruct peace. (some of these ideas are paraphrased from Rick Steves' Travel Guide to Italy)


In February, I went on a short trip to Mexico, as my previous posts may have revealed. I went to my mom and a close friend. Both my mom and her friend have studied Spanish and pre-Hispanic Mexican history. Their interest in history really dictated the course of the trip and we visited a ton of museums and historical sites. The short time that we were there really made us need to capitalize on our time and every day was packed. I would have liked to pause for a while longer in one place to get a deeper understanding, but as it was, I was able to blast many of my stereotypes out the ceiling as well as learn a lot history that was never touched in school.

Travel in Mexico was a fascinating encounter with a unique mix of ancient civilization, gorgeous colonial architecture and deep-rooted pre-hispanic and post-hispanic traditions. Mexico has an ever present past! Which is in sharp contrast with the United States. Where Mexico is a mix of traditional pre-Hispanic and Spanish cultures, the USA has shoved almost all of it's native culture and tradition onto reservations.

I was able to visit the center fo Teotehuacan Civilization which flourished from 0 to 150 AD. People originally migrated to this area in 60000 to 8000 BC and agriculture began in 1200 BC. The site at Teotehuacan is especially intriguing because so little is known about the culture that built the center with two giant pyramids, a grid neighborhood system and water systems. The pyramid of the Sol is the third largest pyramid in the world and I was fortunate enough to be able to climb up the narrow steep steps and enjoy the amazing view of valley. Anthropologists believe that the the civilization collapsed in the 8thalmost as quickly as it built up. The Aztecs discovered the site and adopted it as a sacred place of ceremonies where their revered ancestors had once lived. The Aztec gods closely mirror those of the Teotehuacan Civilization. Quetzacoatle and Tlaloc are two gods whose image I saw im many museums and carved into the stones of many ruins. Quetzacoatle is a feathered serpent and Tlaloc is the god of rain.

Another ruin that I visited was called Xochicalco. It flourished briefly and is known as the cult of the feathered serpent. The ruins were astounding. Unlike Teotehuacan, the place was devoid of tourists and remarkable devoid of locals pandering trinkets and souvenirs. The persistent pressure of sellers at Teotehuacan made me feel uncomfortable and completely destroyed any spiritual or otherwise sentimental feelings that I might have felt in the awesome presence of such ancient and monumental structures. At Xochicalco, the structures were less grandeur but held much more mystery and intrigue. The grounds were so quiet it was easy to imagine the way things might have been like when the civilization was at its peak. Their were several in tact ball courts and an astronomer's cave that they used to track the constellations and the sun. They also had a great museum with an English audio guide, which was a huge bonus for me.

In 1325, the Aztecs, also known as the Mexicas, settled in a place called Tenochtitlan and current day Mexico City. The Aztec civilization had been wandering tribes awaiting the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy: They would find the destined site for a great city whose location would be signaled by an eagle eating a snake while perched atop a cactus. The wandering Aztecs saw this vision on what was then a small swampy island in Lake Texcoco. This vision is now on the Mexican flag. The Aztecs, were able to overcome the swampy nature of the land they were to build their city on by incorporating a system of chinampas for agriculture.

Chinampas were stationary artificial islands that usually measured roughly 30 by 2½ meters, although they were sometimes longer. They were created by staking out the shallow lake bed and then fencing in the rectangle with wattle, a woven lattice of wooden strips daubed with a sticky material usually made of some combination of wet soil, clay and sand, animal dung and straw. The fenced-off area was then layered with mud, lake sediment, and decaying vegetation, eventually bringing it above the level of the lake. Often trees such as willows were planted at the corners to secure the chinampa. The primary chinampas crops were maize, beans, squash, amaranth, tomatoes and chilies.It is estimated that food provided by chinampas made up one-half to two-thirds of the food consumed by the city of Tenochitlan. Chinampas were separated by channels wide enough for a canoe to pass. This system dried and expanded the land. There is a place in Mexico City, called Xochimilco, where one can ride canoes through still existing chinampas but the place is largely overrun with tourists and has a disturbing carnival feel to it.

As the Aztec continued to thrive and develope, it dominated other tribes all around Mexico. They perpetually enlarged Tenochtitlan which grew to become the largest and most powerful city in Mesoamerica with around 215,000 inhabitants. Templo Mayor was excavated in Mexico City and I was able to visit it. The temple was rebuilt every sixty years because it continued to sink into the ground. The Aztecs didn't tear down the previous temple, they simply added another layer to the outside like frosting. In its current state, one can walk through the temple and see the different layers. The Temple is in the very center of Mexico City and surrounded by the giant square, state buildings and the biggest catholic church in the world. The surrounding buildings, especially the church are sinking into the silty soft ground and I had a silly sense of vertigo as I walked about because all the buildings leaned at kaddywompus angles to each other.

While the Aztec Empire expanded in meso-america, Spain was rapidly expanding and looking for new trade routs and conquests. In 1942, Spanish Christian armies finally completed a 700 year long reconquest to recovery territory from the islamic rule. Spain was rapidly expanding and looking for new trade routs and conquests. Christopher Columbus arrived in America followed by the conquistadors. The nearly 3000 year old ancient Mexican civilization was shattered in two short years by them.

Hernan Cortes led an expidition to initiate trade relations with the natives in 1519. Cortes was invariably driven by personal gain and became obsessed with the search for gold. After conquering several coastal areas, Cortes arrived at Tenochitlan and was, according to some accounts, accepted by Moctezuma as the reincarnation of their diety Quetzacoatle. While Cortes was initially well-received, the Aztecs eventually drove him out.

Cortes returned a year later in 1521 with the help of 100,000 natives from other areas and after three months captured Tenochitlan. The conquest continued and by 1605 the indigenous population declined from 25 million to a little over 1 million due to small pox among other new diseases.

The indigenous people were enslaved, exploited and indoctrinated with catholicism. During the colonial period, Spain exploited Mexico to finance the wars taking place in Europe. As the decades passed, many Spaniards put down roots in Mexico and those born and bred in the colony began to develop their own identity and a growing alienation from the mother country. It was criollos (people born of Spanish parents in the new colony) who engineered the separation of New Spain from Spain. The cri0llo discontent with Spanish rule really began to stir following the expulsion of the Jesuits from the Spanish Empire in 1767. When the Spanish crown confiscated church assets in 1804, the church had to call in many debts. This hit the criollos hard. The catalyst for rebellion was in 1808 when Napoleon occupied Spain and direct control evaporated.

In 1810, Hidalgo launched a war for independence and mobs massacred the peninsulares. After 11 years of fighting Mexico gained independence and equal rights for peninsulares, criollos with a constitutional monarchy dominated by the catholic religion.

A person's place in colonial Mexican society was determined by skin color, parentage, and birthplace. At the top were peninsulares, Spanish born colonists. Next were criollos, then mestizos, those of mixed decendency and finaly the indigenous and african slaves.Social stratification follows similar patterns in Mexico today with, broadly speaking, the 'pure-blooded' descendents of Spaniards at the top, with mestizos in the middle and the indigenous people at the bottom. I tried to engage a Mexican man who spoke French in a meaningful conversation about his heritage the the current social issues in Mexico. Unfortunately, our language barrier created issues and I learned little from him. He did give me good advice about the local neighborhood and made me an awesome sandwich, so all was not lost.

I didn't really learn a lot about the period following the war for independence. But the period from 1821 to 1860 was marked by the loss of territory to the USA, corruption, the Mexican American war and the Alamo as well as the War or Reform and the election of the first indigenous president, Benito Juarez. The 1900s were marked by revolutions led by Poncho Villa and other liberal reformers and radicals such as Zapata. In the 1920s, Mexico underwent a land ownership distribution which put land into local communal landholdings called ejidos. The ejidos were successful until the 1960s, when much of the land was sold to corporations. More recently, however, ejidos and other forms of communal agriculture are being resurrected. I learned about ejidos in a community agiculture class. I will try to dig up some more info on them when I get home.

Catholicism plays a huge role in current day Mexico. Catholic churches were everywhere as was the image of the Lady of Guadalupe. She is the patron saint of Mexico. She is also a manifestation of the virgin Marry. She is the archetypal mother and the pre-eminent focus of Mexican spirituality. I think that current spirituality is a complex mix of catholicism and that of pre-Hispanic civilizations. Elements of ancient religions survive alongside and are integrated into Catholicism. This is evident in the fact that many Mexicans still give great importance to omens, portents, coincidences and other curious happenings. It is also evident in the way that the ancients' obsession with death is accentuated in the catholic church. The day of the dead is a prime example of an ancient tradition revamped into a catholic celebration. I was in Mexico during the two weeks preceding Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. In the United States, many towns have parades and parties in the weeks leading up to Mardi Gras and most places have some kind of party for Mardi Gras, an opportunity to binge and get it all out of our system before the restrictions and abstinence of Lent set in. In Mexico, the two weeks before Lent is characterized by indigenous song and dance and crazy traditions that began as indigenous but evolved into a rite all its own.

In Tepotzlan, the tradition of the Chinelos is strongly upheld. All the history that I have found on Chinelos is poorly translated. But I think that essentially, it began with a group of young people who felt excluded from carnival festivities because of the restrictions of Lent. They disguesed themeselves old clothes and covered their faces with a handkerchiefs and began to shout and jump up and down the streets of the town. They were apparently making fun of the Spaniards. Their actions were a great success and they organized such a display the next year. Year after year, the dancing and jumping became more and more popular and the celebration grew into a two week ordeal where troupes of dancing Chinelos gather with brass bands to celebrate and revel. The costume became more and more elaborate. Currently, they look like lace-lined velvet judge robes. They wear a tunic with elaborately embroidered scenes of indigenous people fighting the conquistadors. They wear a wire mask with a pointed and up-curled beard, white gloves and tall hat with beaded Aztec gods. The Chinelos dance from early morning to late night. Different troups rotate in and out and the entire dance is punctuated by brilliant fireworks, carnival rides and a spicey beer and chili drink called a michalada. I tried chapulines while I was in Tepotztlan. Chapulines are crispy grasshoppers. I had them in a blue tortilla with cheese. After I overcame my initial revulsion, they were kind of tasty and the crunchy texture was not unpleasant. I did manage to get a leg or a thorax stuck in the soft tissue of my pallet and spent most of the night hacking. I also had some psychologically induced stomach flutters and aches where I felt like grasshoppers were jumping up and down in there.

While much of this crazy revelry was going on, I took time to visit the 2nd and 3rd highest mountains in Mexico. We tried to climb Mount Itza but we were thwarted by inadequate shoes and very foggy cloudy weather. The very high altitude proved to be a problem as well. Mount Popo was not open to hikers because it has been active recently and constantly spews smoke. I also did a very steep climb up a cliff to get to a little temple nestled in its crags. The temple afforded a great view of the city below and was quite peaceful despite the hordes of high school students that flooded it.

There are a lot of other little details about the trip that made it unforgetable, like how much I loved buying tamales and freshly squeezed carrot juice from street vendors or how much Jo loved to get a coffee and a muffin in the mornings. Or how I inadvertantly stole and then subsequently bought a bag of tortilla chips in a local market and Mom bought yucca cactus salsa for my stolen tortilla chips. Our bus and metro rides were also notable as well as one nearly fatal taxi ride. The smog and pollution was also very notable and Jo suffered from daily nosebleeds and mom and I had horrible eye issues. I enjoyed the cute little Europeanish town of Taxco with the Christ statue looming over it nestled into a hill. The cathedral there was truely stunning with pink stones. I think the most tantalizing food for thought that I cam away with was the contrast between current Mexican society and the incorporation or dis-incorporation of indigenous cultures versus that of the United States and Canada. I hope to do more research into this topic and report on it later.