wanderlust

Sea level to 7,000 feet

Life is pretty good. Yesterday I sat on the beach near L.A. and watched sailboats and birds and crazy people swimming (it was warm—about 70—but the water wasn't very warm). Then I drove up to Big Bear, where my friend Beth works. I was so glad to leave the L.A. area and all its messes of freeways and traffic. The winding mountain roads are pretty fun to drive, especially in the dark.

This morning I held a snake for the first time. Meet Clemetine, an albino corn snake. She liked me. She was so smooth and pretty. Maybe I need a pet snake. Or several. I could join a circus and wear snakes as jewelry and terrify young children.... Sounds good. Where do I sign up?

Then the rest of today I followed Beth and 12 sixth-graders around for seven hours, on a short hike broken up with lots of breaks spent learning about nature and the environment. These kids were funny. What a great age for developing personality and personal philosophies.

Tomorrow I make for Yosemite, where I've never been. My only dilemma is choosing which hikes to do, since I only have one full day (Friday) for seeing the park.

Los Angeles minus the smog

I spent yesterday at the J. Paul Getty Center in Santa Monica, which sits on a bluff above the city...with a view of Los Angeles, the ocean and the mountains. Apparently it's usually pretty hard to see anything beyond a few large buildings downtown, but yesterday was quite the exception. There was a good breeze that blew the smog away, and the view was incredible.

See for yourself:

The museum was also amazing. I took the architecture tour, and I was amazed at how many details were planned so thoughtfully. I really like architecture and the way it combines form, function, beauty and variety.

After tearing myself away from the view (it took a couple of hours), I spent an hour or two looking at the photography exhibits in a couple of the museum wings. They were really good. The one I enjoyed most was the photography of Weegee. He took most of the photos during the 30s and 40s in and around New York City. You can see some here and here.

I highly recommend:

A laptop with wireless. I've found wireless signals in all sorts of places, including in the hostel where I'm currently staying. My favorite thing is stopping in hotel parking lots and checking my e-mail, blogging or mapping out something.

Hostels, especially the obscure ones. I've had several hostel employees/owners ask how I've found them. Googling works well (search for "Chicago hostel," for example), and I usually use the Bakpak guidebook that I got for free at a hostel in Canada about two months ago. It has helped me find hostels in the most unlikely locations, such as the Cuyahoga Valley Hostel in the middle of Ohio and the Lazy Lizard in Moab, Utah.

Other good resources:
• www.hihostels.com
• www.hihostels.ca
• www.hostelz.com
• www.hostels.com
• www.hostelhandbook.com

Some reasons I love hostels include: interesting—even bizarre—people, most of whom have amazing accents; kitchen space for storing, cooking and eating food; really funky furniture and collections of books, including guidebooks for places all over the world; and, best of all, no shortage of random and unique experiences. For example: This morning as I was making my breakfast (tea, a toasted bagel with peanut butter, plain yogurt and a banana), one of the hostel employees was just leaving to go surfing. (I'm in California, by the way, a few blocks from a beach south of L.A.) He had his wetsuit on halfway, folded down at the waist, and when he left he put a sign on the door: "Gone surfing. Back soon." I like these places. (On a related note, last week when I was watching the surfers on a San Diego beach, I noticed how great a lot of guys look in wetsuits. There's something about that molded neoprene, especially on the body of a surfer—they generally have great bodies, if you haven't noticed. And then I saw a girl surfer; she looked even better in the wetsuit. Which led me to think that maybe I should take up surfing. ... Now that this is the most I've ever written about bodies on my blog, I think I'll move on.)

Tea. And a good travel mug that fits in your car's cup holder.

Taking time to do crossword puzzles, even if you can't finish them. The past week or so, I've been on this crossword puzzle kick, but I've yet to finish one. Maybe they're harder than usual, or maybe my brain has atrophied. Either way, it's good mental exercise. Similarly, don't forget to take your dog for walks. Last night on the tram on the way down the hill from the J. Paul Getty Center in Santa Monica (it's an amazing place—you must go there!), I overheard a woman saying that walks are "good for a dog's soul." So there you have it.

Fun times in Temecula

It's been a good few days here with my friend and college roommate Julie (on the left) and her family. Thanksgiving dinner was wonderful, and we had leftovers tonight. I could eat that stuff for weeks.

Yesterday we toured some local wineries, where we took this photo. We found a little area all set up for a wedding (one of two, in fact; it was quite the day for weddings), and we just had to stop and pretend we were captivated audience members. We were moved, you see.

Last night we saw the new Pride and Prejudice, and tonight we watched Thoroughly Modern Millie. Delightful, I must say. Yet in different—delightfully different—ways.

Other highlights:
• Sitting with several members of Julie's family at Thanksgiving dinner, we were laughing about things like...well, I can't remember what. But we were having a jolly time, while the other end of the table was discussing very serious matters. I mean, the people seated at the other end of the table were discussing serious matters. While we were laughing—nay, even giggling—irreverently.
• Today when Julie and I were leaving the farmer's market, I had just seated myself in her car when a middle-aged man, passing on the sidewalk, closed my door for me. I thanked him with some surprise, and he walked away jauntily, obviously proud of himself.
• Just now, after I nearly fell off their couch and then proceeded to laugh at myself, Kierstin (Julie's sister) asked me, "Do you laugh all the time? Like when you're alone, in your car?" "Yes," I replied, laughing.

So in other words, there has been a lot of laughter. Cheers to that.

A shout-out to various people

In the spirit of Thanksgiving...

To Mom and Dad, for checking up on me when I go on hiatus for days at a time, and for keeping me organized back home.

To Matt, for meaning to call and bug me but not calling because you're now temporarily living in Canada. (Who would've thought you would be there instead of me?)

To the rest of my family, spread out as you are, for your care, attention and hospitality during my travels.

To Julie and her family, for inviting me to stay in their lovely home and share in their Thanksgiving festivities.

To the BIST girls, for housing me, feeding me and continuing to send glorious e-mails along the way. (I heart you all.)

To Wes, for fishmail.

To Kai, for planning out my life (because God knows I have no idea what to do with it after this trip).

To M-Dawg and Ruthie, for holding down the fort back home.

To Lawrence, for always checking up on me to make sure I'm not "dead in the wilderness."

To Kelly, for buying me a present and not telling me what it is.

To Adriana and Pepper, for supplying me with some goods.

To all the friends I've met and made along the way, for sharing your enjoyable company and respective cities.

To everyone who reads my blog in secret, for your faithfulness.

To everyone else, for not hating me because I haven't mentioned your name.

Thanks for helping make these months so wonderful. I love you all.

California relaxation

Ahhhhhh.

I'm still enjoying San Diego. It seems like I've been here for a while, but it's only been three days. The pace has been slow and relaxing, and I'm loving it. Yesterday I spent a while at a coffee shop, checking e-mail and such, and then I spent several hours on and near the beach. Pacific Beach, to be precise. I walked on a pier to watch the surfers, then strolled on the beach and got my feet wet, then sat for a while and journaled, then watched the sunset.

Last night I visited with my grandpa and two uncles. I've spent so much time in San Diego over the years, but I've always been here with my parents and my brother. This is the first time I've been here on my own. So visiting family is different when I'm one of the adults making conversation instead of one of the kids being bored by the adults. Now I'm a boring adult. (Don't tell, but I'm only faking it. I'm really still a kid.)

Today I went to the San Diego Art Museum with my aunt and second cousin. We had a good time examining the art and skipping the stuff we didn't find as interesting. It was another gorgeous, warm day in the city, and Balboa Park was lovely. All the palm trees and beautiful buildings and green grass and interesting people....

We had some fun with my camera. I should take more sequences of candid shots...it's very enjoyable. (These are only three of at least 20 photos.)

Tomorrow I depart to spend a few days—including Thanksgiving—with my friend Julie in Temecula. Turkey and stuffing, here I come! This will be only the second Thanksgiving I'll spend away from my immediate family. Three years ago I was in England with a group from college, and we had Thanksgiving at our hostel/hotel. They prepared a wonderful dinner for us: turkey, mashed potatoes, vegetables. Instead of stuffing they made Yorkshire pudding. Our professor had gathered Thanksgiving memories from our families back home, and a few people from our group played football in Hyde Park. It wasn't even raining that afternoon.

I have a lot to be thankful for this year. If you've been reading along during my trip, you know what I'm talking about.

November poem

Praise Song
by Barbara Crooker

Praise the light of late November,
the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones.
Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees;
though they are clothed in night, they do not
despair. Praise what little there's left:
the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls,
shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow
of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory,
the remains of summer. Praise the blue sky
that hasn't cracked yet. Praise the sun slipping down
behind the beechnuts, praise the quilt of leaves
that covers the grass: Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum,
Sugar Maple. Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy
fallen world; it's all we have, and it's never enough.

Listen to it here (scroll down a bit). Thanks to Tara for sharing this one.

Still summer in San Diego

Being with family is good. I spent the day with my aunt, uncle, and my cousin and her family and friends. My cousin’s son, who is 9, has always been a brilliant kid. Today, while taking pictures of his family’s new puppy, he said that maybe he’d like to have a lucrative career as a pet photographer. I don’t think I knew what lucrative meant until I was at least 18.

San Diego is also good. It’s about 75 here, sunny and wonderful. It’s unseasonably warm, I hear, which has been the case in many places I’ve been in the last several weeks. I can’t believe how much perfect weather I’ve been experiencing, especially after my rainy week in eastern Canada. Even that week was wonderful, despite the rain.

This morning I woke before 7, after sleeping eight hours, read in bed for a while (finishing The Horse and His Boy, third of seven Chronicles of Narnia), then spent a leisurely morning drinking tea and talking to my aunt. Then after showing her my photos (all 1,500 of them, much to a certain 9-year-old’s chagrin), the three of us played Life. This is a different version of Life than the one my family always played. This version has careers like athlete and entertainer, and you can get cosmetic surgery, buy mansions and vote, and you don’t get any money in the end for having kids. What’s up with that?

I walked by the beach this evening with my cousin, and it was lovely and warm. Sand and ocean and smells of barbecues and salt. Lots of homeless people. Even the beautiful places have reminders of our greater sadnesses.

Over the desert and through the hills...to San Diego

Hoover Dam on a Saturday around noon is a busy place. Passing over the dam to the Arizona side, I called my parents for a history lesson. They consulted the encyclopedia while I found a parking spot above the dam and got out to take some photos. It was sunny and warm, and the water in Lake Mead was a deep green, glossy at the edges, like the water used to clean an artist’s paintbrush. Leaving the dam, I followed six motorcycles and listened to Pink Martini, driving one-handed, left arm out the window, up into the sunshine.

Then I drove through the desert, for many hours, up and down the rollercoaster “dips” that nearly made me queasy. I listened to The Manchurian Candidate, finishing it about an hour east of San Diego. For the last two hours of the story, I was deeply involved. I shouted my surprise to the inside of my car. I bit at my fingertips, drove with the cruise set at seven over the speed limit and listened intently. I ate bananas, crackers, clementines, applesauce and peanut butter.

Southeastern California smells like dirt and cows. I passed the dunes in the dark and saw ATVs and dune buggies crawling across them like ants with headlamps. There were encampments of RVs with bonfires and more lights. I saw fireworks: three bursts. I watched for more as I passed.

It just hit me this evening that I’ve been driving around the country for two months. I’ve been living this trip and talking about this trip as I travel, visiting friends and meeting new people, but somehow I’ve kept the weight of it from myself. It’s like I’m just learning what I’m doing. It’s hard to get my head around it sometimes.

Vegas impressions

Well, folks, this is it: I've decided that once my trip is over, I'm packing up my life and moving to Las Vegas. It's the best place I've ever seen, and I want to spend every possible moment living there and enjoying all it has to offer. Seriously. Anyone who knows me will take this as a matter of course, given my personality and my love for gambling, late nights, endless city lights and elaborate façades.

All sarcasm aside, Vegas is freaking weird. As Kai and I decided, it's Disneyland on crack. It's not my speed at all, but it was fun to visit for one night. Walking the strip last night was fun, but going back to the hostel (Sin City Hostel, appropriately) and going to sleep was even more fun. Especially since the three other girls in my room didn't come back all night, so my sleep was an uninterrupted stretch of bliss (as blissful as sleep can be on the hardest, lumpiest hostel bed in the world).

But my favorite part was this morning. I was in the hostel kitchen making breakfast when my roommates returned. I met one of them briefly yesterday evening, and she must have told the others about me, because in comes this girl in clubbing attire, four-inch heels, a British accent and the residue of all-night drunkenness. She puts her arm around me and starts apologizing for the messy room, saying that I must think they're so dirty. They're not really like that, she says; it's just that they've been drunk for three days. Then she gets a cup of water. Another girl says she wants some noodles. "Sara, will you make noodles?" (Sara is the one I met, I think.) "No, I'm going to sleep." When I left the hostel half an hour later, they were all sitting outside smoking and listening to a guy play Greenday on guitar. Two of the girls had taken off their heels, one had made a stack of toast and taken it outside to share, and Sara was in her two-piece pajama set: striped tank top and shorts.

At 10 on a Saturday morning, drunk British girls are pretty funny to watch. Poor things. I hope they get some sleep today.

I'm driving to San Diego and getting out of this crazy valley. As I was leaving the city, I noticed a sign for Eastgate. Funny, there's an Eastgate in Walla Walla. But this valley city is an entirely different beast. I'd take Walla Walla over Vegas any day.

Since you're probably wondering where I am now, I'll tell you: I'm in the Sands Motel parking lot in Boulder City, just south of Vegas. I saw a sign for Hoover Dam, so I'm going to go check that out before driving to San Diego. And I saw a sign here for free wi-fi, so I thought I'd stop and check e-mail, then write a little for your entertainment. I'm sitting in the driver's seat, legs across the passenger seat (it's hard to hold a laptop with the steering wheel in the way), windows open to let in the cool breeze, listening to Ry Cooper and Patti Griffin, drinking chai tea. It's about 70 and I'm wearing rolled-up jeans and a T-shirt. It'll be even warmer in San Diego. My sympathies for those of you experiencing freezing weather, snow, rain and the like. My deepest sympathies. Yesterday I was hiking in Zion National Park, where it was about 60. Perfect weather. So much sun. I'll stop now. Really, I will. But a photo won't hurt, eh?