It has been a short while since I last updated what I was hoping would be a great travel and adventure blog. Although my summer has been magnificent, my documentation has been far from great. Many things can distract a writer. Many good things as well as boring things. Forget those things. Let's concentrate on the most recent adventures.
In reverse and jumbled order, today, I spent the day in Colton for work. I am sealing deals all over the place. It is very exciting to know that you are on the precipice of being a millionaire. I also realized that I have a very serious affection for the Inland Empire. I mean when is the last time you have seen Riverside? Adventure number two in reverse order: stayed in Riverside at the Mission Inn. The place looks like someone transported a block of Italy and slapped it in the middle of the desert. The lobby has a presidential lounge that has quite literally large paintings of our beloved presidents on the walls. The spookiest thing is that George Bush looks exactly like George W Bush. Teddy R and Ronald Regan look the best in paintings.
But really, the Inland Empire. The desert. Something about residential communities in the dusty desert. It isn't of these times. And the giant palm trees, the kind out near the salton sea that look like the dog from sesame street was impaled on them. These are the kinds of things that just flip mid-westerners out. And as I am approaching my three-year LA-Anniversary I can testify that none of the wonder or glory of SoCal has worn off. It has refocused to places like the IE, Central Coast, and interstate 395 but it is still there.
Adventure number three was smack dab in the middle of Echo Park where the great ball crew witnessed a 14 inning game against the dumb Colorado Rockies. Longest game in my personal sportsfan history.
And my last adventure to report was a jaunt back up to The Giant Forest and Kings Canyon. This area is not a place to be underestimated. GIANT Forest, KINGS Canyon. Medieval nature. Prehistoric nature. Believe that people. There are many things to write about for example, driving out to Mineral King area to camp was worth it because nobody was there. But the real highlights are when you are around other National Park People. Especially the concerned self-righteous hippies that make it their business to report human interactions with wildlife. We saw one couple dressed in baggy purple t-shirts carrying nalgene bottles, tell a ranger that a family was agitating a bear cub. Good thing they knew better. The ranger, who must hear this crap all the time said, "yeah.. I dunno... people are stupid."
Ah. I love those NP Rangers.
What does it mean to have a recurring dream? That your brain is out of ideas or that you have a serious neurosis?
Lor and I went to Catalina this week. It's a 70 minute boat ride and I wanted to throw up about ten minutes in. I've never been sea sick before but I never took a go-fast boat across the Pacific so I guess there's a new experience in every day.
L is a great travel companion because she likes the same dorky business that I do. We went on a bus tour narrated by a cranky old resident. She didn't give us a lick of historical information about the island other than that the Cubs used to spring train there. Then we got on a special tourist boat that has seats set in about six feet under water with individual bench seats and windows so you can see the fish swimming by. The tour guides toss disgusting slimy suction-cupped squid limbs into the water so the fish will snack out near the windows. It's really great actually. It is like scuba diving without any effort and you don't have to touch slimy kelp. This boat made L want to throw up.
The best thing for motion sickness is Heineken beer. So we got some of that and then walked around the beach area to the place they call the "Casino" which isn't actually a gambling facility but an old fashioned name for a social gathering place. Kind of like a 'salon'. It's a gorgeous art deco building, at least that's what I gathered from the outside because it was locked up. They show movies there on the weekend evenings. They also have boat tours in the evening that take you up close with flying fish and I mean wouldn't you rather see flying fish. You can catch a movie on the mainland any time.
I tried to outsmart the seasickness for the ride back so I downed some dramamine right before I got on the boat. I made sure to tell the teen working at the soda stand near the dock that I never get seasick so this is all very new to me. I am sure that she was so totally interested. I don't know why we have these conversations with retail people. I remember working retail and so many people just dishing out TMI all over the place.
I felt sick the whole boat ride back but my pain was instantly erased when we got to San Pedro near the Vincent Thomas Bridge. I flipping love the robot machinery on those docks. I really think I should apply for a job operating a crane. I wonder if I could listen to books on tape and take pinhole camera photos.
On our way to the beach in Palos Verdes Am and I discovered the Wayfarers Chapel. Well, it might have already been discovered because it had a visitors center. It is a holy place built with wood, glass, and local rocks with genuine sea animal fossils. When you are inside you feel like you are outside (except there are pews) because the walls are lined with plants and the walls and ceiling are all glass with wood frames. The building was designed by Lloyd Wright, son of you know who. It is divine.
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We drove around for a good while because Am neglected to tell me that she didn’t actually know where a good beach was and that the last time she was in the area she was on a private beach. It seems silly but I have often been driving right next to the ol’ pond we call the Pacific and not been able to just get there. To just 'get in the water' is not as easy as it seems. Thank the gods of Wayfarer that there is federal land otherwise all the hedge fund a-holes would make the whole west coast a private beach.
The drive did give me some insight to Palos Verdes though. It seems that The Wayfarers Chapel is only one of a number of places of worship. With rocky cliffs and trees as varied as the selection at TJ Maxx, what else can you do with such a coast line but build places of worship? There were more churches than condos. I’m not even exaggerating.
Whenever I am at the beach I sit and think the exact same thing I have always thought since I was just a little gal, “I could stay here forever and I just might.” But I always leave.
Last night we went to the Hammer for the Zineland exhibit. We got our picture taken reading the constitution. I think it was because B’s orange fingernail polish and Am’s hat were precise visual representations of the first amendment.
Four people were on stage for the zine discussion panel. All of them were in their mid-thirties so they have been around since before the world wide web. Much of their discussion centered around the end of zines. Independent publications have been around since stone carving so it was slightly annoying to see indie rockers presenting themselves as historical determinants of alternative publications. Their experience was changing so it must be the end. I think the people sitting at the tables with their handmade booklets and poetry scrolls would disagree that the end of zines is upon us. I saw a ton of good stuff, most of which was Xeroxed on newsprint, and I felt some pressure to buy – that’s what happens when the author is watching you look over their stuff. Good sales technique.
We had a deadline to get back to Echo Park before the fireworks started at the Lotus Festival. Traveling cross-town in LA is a true crapshoot but the 10 was clear and we were able to watch the fireworks on the walk from our parking spot (possible the last one on the entire east side) to Echo Park Lake. We stood by the lake for exactly one minute and three seconds of the grand finale so technically we made it back in time.
Besides the two kind of people in this world that believe that there is or isn’t two kinds of people, there are a second two kinds of people; those that love the Lotus Festival and those that avoid it. The way N talked about it I thought it would be a giant clusterf@*k.
But minus the immediate post-fireworks foot traffic, it was pleasant. The festival is set up all around the lake and the water has a calming effect. During the day there are swans in that lake. I doubt they stuck around for the fireworks though. I ran around with Am who was on a hunt for an old lady making papaya salad for a bit before we settled at Masa to eat meatloaf.
B told me that I have hidden guy parts because I like cars, fireworks, and baseball. Totally inaccurate. I am a patriot and you don't have to be a dude to be a patriot any more. This isn't the first gulf war ya know? Times have changed. You just have to love federal land, civic duties, and your right to explosive as well as contemplative pastimes.
I got back to LA yesterday. I was greeted by the blistering (ooh - that’s good, I will use that for 80 and Sunny) sun and a nice early evening traffic jam. There is nothing like sitting in traffic a few miles from home when you have been traveling for days. That is why I love living in Los Angeles and not in Mid-Michigan where you drive your car from point A to point B without any kind of build-up or appreciation for your destination.
I also love The Encounter restaurant and noticed from my view coming out of the Northwest Terminal that it is under some kind of construction. I can't help but wonder if anyone else noticed or if this is another alien mandated construction project. The scaffolding tells me this may be the case.
A few days ago we visited the Museum of Natural History in Ann Arbor. I had an intense urge to look at dino bones. You don't get to see real dino bones tho, just casts of dino bones. The museum smelled like your average older library and bone casting material. It was very cozy. After we toured the four floors we went and had some deep dish pizza served by a real U of M student.
I'm supposed to be packing to get back to LA. My timing is good since the heat wave is headed straight for Mich. It's going to be almost a hundred here tomorrow and combined with Great Lakes humidity that will feel like one hundred million degrees.
I'm going to miss talking about the weather. It's the midwesterner's favorite topic of conversation. People out west rarely talk about it. There isn't much to say. Well, until now. This trip has inspired me to start a separate blog, called 80andsunny. This blog will document the weather in Los Angeles everyday for a full year. It will be a true writing challenge since the weather is the same everyday. How many ways can someone describe a sunny day? Just you wait.
It's just splendid to be back around the Great Lakes even if everything, everywhere is damp. My forearms are sticking to the table I'm writing on as a matter of fact.
P and I took an official Great Lakes Circle Tour around Lake Michigan (with a detour up to Pictured Rocks - deets later). There seemed to be some confusion when I would talk to other people about this because they would ask, "What parts did you see?" and "Did you go on the Wisconsin side?"
I would have to explain that a driving circle tour follows the same principals of geometric circumference. Meaning, "all the way around." Much like geometry's precious circle, the driving tour circles, encases, completes, meets back up, covers the complete surrounding area... You get the idea.
So we saw all of that damn great lake, starting in Chicago and driving up through Wisconsin and around to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan (which still has a strong back country militia secede-y air about it) and down through the Mackinaw Bridge and into the lower part of Michigan and then back into a traffic jam 10 miles outside of Chicago.
Lake Michigan is the pretty boy of the five lakes. It is the perfect color of blue for the stripes in fudge shop awnings. It has occasional non-threatening whip-cream-peak waves and gentle winds that encourage recreational sailing without disrupting hair-dos or sailor fashion. The westward wind builds up impressive dunes and makes the Michigan side more romantic and expensive. It is a good lake to start with if you have a lifelong goal of driving all around the great lakes. If you started with Erie or Huron you might get the idea that this is still an industrial world or that Canada is friendly.
I could go on about the fantastic five but I have to leave to attend a (damp and most likely buggy) BBQ so until I can get back to business I leave you with a list.
A few things about the Great Lakes states; pop, fatties, Vernors, pasties, yooper pride, bugs, broad-leaf forests, birch, thistle, dunes, stay-in-the-car-oil-changes in Michigan, liquor-at-gas-stations Wisconsin, and traffic-in-your-A Illinois.
I'm already out of town again. I didn't even get a chance to capture the giantness of The Giant Forest in a proper travel essay. I will finish that on the train to Chicago today. Here is a preview: Big Trees, Big Fun.
In the meany - check out Beth's innovative smores technique. We were stuck on a one lane mountain highway with twenty minutes to spare. At 7,500 feet above sea level and a chipper 89 degree sun smiling down on us, we figured it would take seven minutes to bring the smore to proper melty point. Beth was willing to sacrifice the burnt mallow taste and bit into hers as soon as the chocolate beaded up with sunsweat. We should have used the engine block.
I left another pillow at another motel. Some time ago I got the bright idea to take my own pillow with me on road trips. Since then I have left three pillows at various motorlodges across western America. Now, make that a total of four and recognize this as a public declaration of abandoning that travel tactic. The only people that it is making 'more comfortable' are the lucky motel owners that find my awesome polyester pillows covered in super cute pillowcases.
Miss N and I took a jaunt up the 395 this weekend. I found a NPS brochure for Manzanar when I was in New Mexico and was enticed by the indomitable cover photo. I also hadn’t added a stamp to my National Parks Passport in a good while so I figured it was high time to get exploring eastern Cali.
We packed and planned for camping but when we saw the precious motels and storefronts in Lone Pine we knew we had to stay in town.
Lone Pine is known for being a kind of base camp for Mt. Whitney, the highest point in the United States, and for being a popular filming location for westerns, Ridley Scott films, and truck commercials.
They have a new Film History Museum. The museum plays films that were shot in Lone Pine every Thursday and Saturday. N and I got to see Cary Grant in “Gunga Din” with a crowd full of people that probably caught it when it was originally released in ’39.
That’s just the thing about Lone Pine. The multifarious populous is what makes Lone Pine an exceptional place to visit. Besides the cowboy or ATV/four-wheeling locals, you have sport tourists there for fishing and climbing, retirees on their way up to Kings canyon in their RV’s, and film buffs and production people. There just happened to be a massive Corvette caravan bin town when we were there. N noted that most Corvette drivers are tall skinny white guys with receding hairlines. I only observed the group for one evening, but other than a man with a British accent and a full head of hair, she was right.
After the movie we went to the Double L bar and played a game of shuffleboard. Sierra Nevada on tap costs $3.50 and comes in a chilly mug. The shuffleboard is free and so is the competitive advice coming from the locals at the bar. It was a Saturday night and the place had plenty of room to chillax. All in all, it was a fortunate break from Los Angeles.
Would you believe me if I told you that the Autry lets you dress up like an old fashioned cowboy? And you even get to whip a realistic photo of a horse? Well it's not true. But there are a lot of hands-on activities for kids and parents. Like you can pretend you a eating in a fifties kitchen. Or you can put on cowboy boots.
The museum itself is far more impressive than I anticipated. I expected big things because I love the wild west so much. They are having a pistol exhibit right now and there is a whole wing dedicated to hand card Colt hand guns. Its something to see. I can't imagine people (soldiers, police officers, militia, gangstas) using guns that are covered in intricate hand carvings. These babys were covered with flowers and feathers. I wonder which point they decided to scrap that.
The best parts of the museum are the life size buffalo and the various giant maps. It gives you a sense of territory and prospecting.
The gift shop is solid. The only down side was that out of all of the western music, there wasn't a CD that had "Sounds of the Ranch". In a lot of the museum rooms they would have random ranch sounds playing and they should offer that on a CD so visitors can keep pretending for days, even years after they go home.
I bought a dream catcher.
I discovered The Black Hole in a Frommer's guide from the mid-nineties. I had a hard time finding references to The Black Hole online but I knew it was a place I needed to see. It's a surplus store with every kind of everything imaginable for the aspiring nuclear scientist and/or weapons engineer. Its a tourist attraction for a special kind of tourist.
A violent thunderstorm rolled in seconds after I arrived. So I hung out in my parked car for a few minutes before deciding that it was worth the risk of getting soaked and struck by lightning. The downside was that much of the machinery in the outdoor lot was covered by tarps. I didn't feel like hanging out in the rain too much anyway.
The inside of the store did not disappoint. I have never seen so many different incarnations of the periodic table. The inside is stacked and piled and crammed with all kinds of electrical gear. It's organized by categories like "wires" and "theoretical design." The gentleman that work there are first and foremost, inventors, they have interesting stories about playing soccer with the Oppenheimer kids and working at "The Lab." It appears to be the kind of place where you just show up and start inventing stuff and the owner lets you handle a couple cash transactions. Before you know it, you've been working at The Black Hole for twelve years.
I'll have more pics and info on The Biggest Butte come launch day.
The rental car place at Sunport Airport in Albuquerque is a real low-key grab it yourself kind of place. I got in late and was glad when the chap at the counter told me to go out to the back lot and pick whichever car I wanted in spaces 91-113. My reservation was for a compact (not economy, those are just uncivilized) but like always they didn’t have anything left but midsize.
The average public may not know this but PT Cruisers are considered midsize. I thought they were in a class all their own, albeit the babyboomerbarfclass but nonetheless a class of their own. Spaces 91-113 had only five white PT Cruisers, the only car on the lot that I would refuse to drive. I was peeping out a Dodge Caravan in space 126 when I saw my last option in space 111: The Chevy HHR. Color: ORANGE. An orange hearse. Perfect.
The vehicle got more attention than anything I have ever driven. I didn’t think it was for any other reason than its shaped like a futuristic speakeasy shuttle and painted bright orange. I was a little wrong. Apparently the word is out that these babys get decent gas mileage and if there is anything some New Mexican old dudes like rapping about, its gas mileage. I love talking to strangers about sports and gas mileage. Gas mileage especially because the older guys really seem to take pleasure in knowing that I am bopping around the country getting nearly thirty-three miles per gallon. It is satisfying to know that someone is driving around a deal.
I took the Turquoise Trail (Route 14) from Albuquerque to Santa Fe. It added on an additional 3-4 hours to what would have been an hour and a half drive up to Los Alamos but it was worth it.
New Mexico is essentially what you wish Arizona was and maybe would be without all the barfamansions. New Mexico means: Adobe shacks, dream catchers, insane yet fast-moving weather patterns, rivers, and lush desolation. They call it the Land Of Enchantment. What other state has a spooky slogan like that? Nebraska? Living the Good Life? Michigan? Good Times, Great Lakes. Well sure, Michigan's slogan is genius but doesn't dip into otherworld realms like New Mexico's.
I'll be posting some more photos and enchanting tales throughout the day. Stand by.
Oh and I did a quick search after going on my state slogan tangent and I found this site that has license plate slogans. It is very interesting to a great patriot like myself. I especially like Alaska's North to the Future. Dang thats good.
Since I took Em to Long Beach last weekend I thought that I would show her another worthwhile side of SoCal - the Inland Empire.
Right across the street from a UHaul rental place on Foothill Blvd (old Route 66) in Rialto is the Wigwam Hotel. It is one of the best places to catch some Z's the old fashioned TeePee way.
The wigwams used to be painted with authentic colorful Native American like zigzags but the new owner told us that his family had bought the place just a few years ago and started renovations by repainting them all light brown. I appreciated the symmetry but I think the zags would really set the place apart from the Uhaul joint and strip mall across the street.
One thing is for sure, the walls of these teepees are as thin as the originals at the turn of the century. The Wigwam Hotel gets a lot of traffic from dump trucks and visitors of what I suspect to be permanent residents of a couple of the wams. After just one night in the teepee we had a bunch more questions for the owner like, why does it smell a little bit like pee inside? Why are the ceilings so low? Where are the dream catchers and buckskin and genuine Indian artifacts? Luck for us he was happy to answer. Apparently there is no good reason for the low ceilings and the tops of the teepees are full of nothing but the spirit of the old wild west.
We didn't ask him about the pee smell. I wanted to keep it light because even though we didn't sleep a full night with all the smells and the racket, thats just how it is when you sleep in a teepee. If you can't take the heat, stay at the W.
side notes: Emmas dad called the next day and informed her that her grandparents, Lefty and
Lois, had actually lived in one of the wigwams at the wigwam hotel for one year with their infant child back in the 50s. I thought she seemed very comfortable in our wigwam.
So Emma is here. Well, she is actually in Torrance for work. She came in last night and I told her I would wait out the rush hour traffic and then come by and take her to the most magical place in the south bay area: The Port of Long Beach. Its a super beefy machinery boaty cargo-y place that looks like a parking lot for Millenium Falcons at night. I was so happy that she dug it. You never know if people like truly proper shit. But Ems liked it so much that she made up a chant, "its like trains on boats, trains on boats!"
I took her back to her homebase hotel early because I was sympathetic to the east-to-west-coast jetlag. I thought it would be a great idea to get a glass of wine at the hotel bar, like two classy adult ladies. Seeing giant machinery move cargo from around the world can be overwhelming and exhausting, so you need something to help you wind down. We only wanted some peace and quiet and a good view of a group of comely gentleman from a college soccer team that were prancing around the lobby waiting for their equally attractive coach to check them in. And just when they started to wrestle with each other we were interrupted by some other people from her work that were already four drinks deep from the bar. Oh well. That is what she is here for anyway. Until next week anyhow - then its all play and no work in LA for Ems.
In the meantime, know that I have been serving jury duty. The best part is how much you learn about yourself and I tell you it's been true for me - I think I have found something that I can look forward to when I am retired. I wondered what I would fill my days up with after I turn 70. I mean I know my weekends will be for bridge and casseroles but what are you supposed to do during the week? Jury duty is flipping perfect because its time consuming yet socially important. You make anonymous descions that will have no personal or career consequences. I hope when you are old you can volunteer for it more than twice a year.
I’m writing this from the public library where the only study booth left is one where someone must have slapped down some pieces of greasy pizza, pressed it into the table and sprinkled those redhot pepper things all over the place. I wish I wasn’t wearing flip flops.
N and I took a day trip to Pismo Beach. She promised that it would be fancy and gritty. The central coast of Cali is very beautiful but the pristine terracottaroofed Walgreens of Santa Barbara make you feel like you should be dropping off dry cleaning or ordering starbucks. You need coastal isolation and grit, true grit.
While we were waiting for a table at some place where N would eventually order, dismantle, and ingest a giant crab, I decided to venture over to the Palmist across the street. This psychic establishment had the best sign I have ever seen so I expected the interior to be ultramagical.
The door was locked but a tired housewifey looking lady with bleached out orange hair and a long chino skirt let us in. Before we even said anything she asked how old we were. I don’t think it was to establish that we were old enough to retain psychic services. She was already trying to gather info for her reading.
The place had blue carpet and a giant white ceramic LAMB in the middle of the room. There were two corner rooms with blue curtains and crystal balls for readings. No incense, no bojangles or beads. I was disappointed but I had already gotten in the door. I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.
N was against spending money on such things but I asked for a palm reading. The woman led me into one of the tiny rooms, sat down and crossed her arms in front of her chest, yawned and told me to hold out my hands. I did and expected her to grab it, hold it, summon a spirit animal or something. But she just stared at my hands and said, “I can tell you aren’t married. But you have been hurt in the past.” At this point I thought that she might actually be the cleaning lady covering for the real psychic, the one that paid for the awesome palm reading sign since I think most people participating in western civilization could have told me the same thing since I wasn’t wearing any rings.
She started to tell me about how I was going to go into management and I started to feel awful. Then she said I would get married after meeting my soul mate, probably named STEVE, within fifteen months. After which she yawned again. Then she said I would have two daughters. All of this sounds like my worst flipping nightmare. Then she said that I have been overworked and very stressed out from working so hard. And that’s when I swear I heard N laugh outloud from the psychic waiting room.
I had been had. I mean its hard to believe that a psychic would rip you off, I know. But if you go to Pismo, just try to stick with the seafood and mineral hot springs. Thanks.
I like to travel to cities where the hometown basketball team is doing hot hot hot. I like to travel to cities where the NASCAR something or rather is taking place and burning up the pavement and congesting the one road outta town. I like cities with Waffle Houses and Anthropologies and no nearby competing metropolis’s. I like any city where one of my high school homies has escaped the confines of our home town to stake their claim in the sunshine. I like a city that requires a four hour drive on a two lane highway in the baron, unforgiving desert. Drives like that make you think about stuff like the human condition, forgiveness, beef jerky, an unexpected tire blow-out, and cell phone reception. It was great to see you Kriso.
I tried to get inside another one of Californias beautiful and slightly creepy Spanish missions yesterday. My first attempt in San Gabriel didn't work out becase they had just closed up shop (at 4pm!)
And yesterday, in Santa Barbara, seconds after we found parking (which wasn't easy - its spring break around here) we were informed that the mission was closed due to a power outage.
I thought this was a bit of bullshit because I know that those building have been around since before electrical times. I think they could have considered the rest of us tourists and lit up some old fashioned torches.
N said she didn't understand the appeal of the Missions and I tried to come up with a fantastical story about Hitchcock, Virtigo, Monks, and the Spanish Inquisition. I wouldn't really know since I have never actually been inside.
Gorgeous day yesterday : oceans, palm trees, channel islands, mountains and valleys. At dinner last night I told T that our ride out to Santa Barbara was awesome and she said (innocently) "What was so great about it?" Spoken like someone raised in Southern California.
I forgot to get a pic of drew's middle piece but last night we presented him with the exclusive three way Best Friends Forever charm as thanks for all of his work on our production.
I am sure the very exclusive piece of jewelry made working four ten hour days for no money totally worth it.
I should be charging for this information but we recently discovered the perfect gift for the person that has everything.
These ceramic wads of cash are belt buckles. They will be a welcome addition to any wardrobe, male or female or anything in between.
Everyone is getting these for Easter!
I was just at LAX and I didn't even check out the giant plane. I was too tired to do anything else at the airport other than pay a million dollars for parking and get home.
I went home, home this weekend and the visit was a real HIT as you can see by this photo.
I recently took my little sister to Vegas. She had never been there and didn't know what to expect. Im sure she was delighted to find out that "MY Vegas" involves the following activities:
Nabbing free drinks as a spectator of high-stakes craps at the Venetian or The Wynn or The Bellagio
Giving unsolicted recommendations for impromptu weddings (highlarious, right?)
Seeing how many people accept our offer to take a couple/group photo. (Project GoodSnapshotmaritian)
