Connecting Clues from Across the Country

Escaping wet weather in arches

Excitedly driving toward clear skies ahead!

We arrived at Beautiful Bryce canyon just as the gray drizzle turned into big fat drops. At least we didn’t’ have to drive in the rain much, but we did have to endure some cold dampness to see any sights. We waited in the visitor center with about a hundred other pancho-clad park visitors, mostly senior citizens. After studying the map for a while, and taking a quick drive to view the Hoodoo’s, we got in our car to dry off, warm up and flee to Zion National Park.

I had been to Zion last November, but this was Amil’s first time, so I knew we could easily spend an extra day there. Although our quick view of Bryce left us wanting more—all us desert folk really wanted was to bake on some rocks. And all we had had the opportunity to do so far was shrivel in the rain.

Our drive to Zion was spent hoping at every turn that we would see a glimpse of sun poking through the expansive gray sky. But every mile closer solidified the fact that we were going to Eeyore our way through this whole trip. 

We arrived in time to secure a campsite—and this time, the rain stopped as we pulled in, allowing the darkened rocks to pop against the whitening sky. Eventually we even saw patches of blue to contrast the rocks.

We utilized the opening sky to dry out our tent, and even laid out some of our clothes. I hiked a few miles along the river as Amil relaxed at the campsite, both of us preparing our morning routes.
As the sun started to set, just as we were getting used to this no-rain thing, some big fat drops started to fall on my journal as I sat at the picnic table planning my route. The rain drove Amil to the car and me to the tent. I noticed the increasing volume of rain starting to run under the tent, sure to get between the footprint and our tent making the bottom wet, so I started to dig little channels for it to go under. Eventually though, we just had to get out in the rain and move the tent, then dive back in for another night spent sleeping under the pitter patter of rain, with wet clothes at our feet, happy to have dry sleeping bags and each other to keep warm.

In the morning I went on a quick hike up the Watchman trail, asking Who watches the watchmen in my head the whole way, then ran down it. From the top I could see the altocumulus thinning out, showing that there was still moisture in the air, but not enough to pour down. Amil and I packed up the site and went off on our own routes- he on Angel’s landing which I had challenged myself to do before but didn’t need to do again, and me up Observation Point.

Amil hiked Angel’s landing barefoot and ran down, meeting many people with many different reactions along the way- some cheered, some laughed, some looked inspired. My trail was equally inspiring until the part where the accumulation of water had covered the trail, and about 20 people who had previously stranded on an island farther up the mountain were attempting to cross the roaring waters, about 5 feet wide to where I stood. I decided not to get wet, and turned around to do the Hidden Canyon trail, until that, too ended in a water crossing.
It was really special being in an area, like all of Utah, really, that is especially known for the sun and the bright rocks, and to be there at a time where you can really feel and understand the power of water.  As much as I appreciated the water, I craved the sun. My hike was an incredible balance of soft mist, light drizzle, and warm sun rays, and as I climbed I emerged into and through clouds. When I got back to the campsite was when it really started to clear up, and we left all our stuff out again, to dry.  This time, it held off and we went to sleep dry for the first time in days.

Converging Cross Country Clues…16

Fish Lake was a longer drive away than we thought. The sky stayed gray through the drive, and the moist air damp and cool. As we got closer, I realized that Pando was not going to be an enormity of aspen trees as far as I could see, but rather, speckled clumps of quaking leaves amongst a hills of green. 
Our campsite was mystical, isolated and vast. After getting settled in we went out to explore. I, sadly, didn’t take my camera as I hiked higher and higher to an awesome view of the great lake, through bramble and grass, amongst the solemn aspens with their leaves of green and trunks of white. 
The stillness, the quiet, and the energy of this space was refreshing, yet the endless gray skies and the chilly high-elevation weather motivated us to move onto bright, sunny Bryce canyon. (heh, yeah right).

Cross County Culture …

We parked and roamed the shopping strip, amazed at the amount of taffy shops (at least 9). It turns out that the shops and sights I remembered are actually in Boulder. Estes Park is a small mountain town that looks like it reached its height of tourism in the 80’s. It reminded us of Telluride, but not as new-age.

What really captivated us was the glass blowing store. They had a glass blowing studio in the store where you could watch him create the pieces they sold- a brilliant plan, because once you watch it you’re more attached to the artist and piece and more willing to buy. We watched him make two glass pumpkins and then Amil bought us earrings.

That night we visited the town Theatre, appreciating it’s antiquity, including an old movie projector in the hallway, and it’s independence from big theater corporations. We watched a documentary about Crop Circles and heard a talk by the director, then drove back to our campsite.

We woke up and packed up, our site being reminiscent of Big Bear, but a little wetter. I ate breakfast while watching clouds hold back the sun, listening to Amil play guitar, then we head out for a day of hiking in Rocky Mountain National Park. We settled on a hike called Deer mountain, that afforded us beautiful views of Estes Park, and our campsite down below.

We hiked up in 1.5 hours and ran down in 45 minutes, then hopped in the car and head to my cousin’s house to stay with her family for a few nights.

I love visiting my family in Longmont because I don’t get to hang out with them often, and I have fond memories of playing in their three story modern Victorian home with my cousin. What was really strange was how much my younger cousin, resembeled Brittany when we were young.   
The first night we got there, we were treated to a classic family dinner of Spaghetti and garlic bread. Although I’ve had my share of pasta dinners in my residencies, this one in particular brought me back to the meals my mom would make growing up. We dined on the front porch, watching the colors of Colorado fade into dusk. 
I took a nostalgic walk around the neighborhood in the morning, then strolled around the very cute downtown that I don’t think I had visited before. I dropped my computer off at a local shop, and perused through a Bulk food store where you bring your own containers and everything is available in bulk, from nuts and grains to dog food to shampoo and detergents.

That night, our gracious hosts took us to an amazing “new Mexican” restaurant, where I gorged myself on chips, salsa and guacamole (you customize what’s in the guac and they make it right in front of you), and sopapilla rellanos (which I’ve never seen before), as well as a pretty strong margarita (maybe it was just strong because I can’t remember the last time I had a margarita).

The next morning I went on a run to explore more of the neighborhood , then Amil and I went to the farmers market and got some goodies for our upcoming drive back to California, and to make for dinner. 
He made a delicious and abundant meal of fancy rice, bean slaw, coconut bread, and I made a salsa. I had really enjoyed my time here, catching up with the family, playing on the rope in the backyard, walking back through old memories and sitting on the porch reading my new books. When I was young I always dreamed I would have a house that big, and marveled at the three stories, plus basement (now a home office), plus carriage house (they rent out). After college I toyed with the idea of renting their carriage house while studying the ecology of Colorado and establishing residency. Coming back this year, it was clear that my ideals have changed, at least from my big-home dreams. 
As much as I appreciated the homeliness of their big home, and the accessibility of the town of Longmont, I was eager to get on the road and move into my own home. We had just one more stop to make and person to see.

Our last day in Colorado was spent packing the car, full with fruits and veggies from the farmers market as well as grains and flours from various stops, and leftover concoctions from the week. We bid adieu to the family and head over to Boulder to meet an old friend at a Tea House. 
We visited this friend in Colorado last year, helping her paint a her room, and playing with her sugar gliders. This time we were going to join her for Tea where her fiancé works. Although living in cold weather has made me appreciate hot tea, I deflected the experience by ordering a fruity iced tea with tapioca bubbles. Amil, however, really enjoyed his Pu ehr(?) tea, and after sipping cup after cup, bought two different kinds and a special mug to drink it out of. As we drove away, he expressed how much he appreciated this knew drink, and the overall experience. We drove away from Colorado not realizing that it would be the last time in days that we saw the sun, toward Arches National Park.

Cross Country, and back. Section 3, part 12

Train

If you have read any blogs up to this point, it might not be a surprise to you that I was excited for this final train ride. From NY to Chicago, a 4 hour layover and then on our way to Denver 38 hours in all. I had complained to Amil and his family that airports and train stations should have a little play area that adults are allowed and encouraged to play in, including treadmils, stationary bikes, bouldering walls, etc. I pretty much got that in Chicago. We happened to stop there on one week when an art exhibit that included fake grass and park games was open. We had jump ropes to play with, tetherballs to swing, and lawn darts to throw. Then we put our adult hats back on and drank a beer before boarding our next train. Once again, my hopes for plugging in and tuning out were a little dashed, but we met some amusing people and had some inspiring conversations.

 Denver (Nick)

Our anticipation to arrive in Denver was driven mostly by our excitement to stand up and leave the trains we had been riding in for almost two days. We walked off the train and through some construction, a little shocked at the warm sun and the vastly open streets, then took a bus to a half mile from Nick’s house. Amil had stayed with our friend Nick before taking the train up, and had left the car there.

Upon arrival I texted my dad that all our stuff remained safe in the car, to which he replied “that either says a lot about the people in Denver, or the quality of your stuff.”  I don’t know much about the crime rate in Denver, but I think it’s a little of both. After ringing the doorbell we discovered we were waking up Nick, his girlfriend, and the friends that had stayed over after a weekend-long Phish concert (what exactly that entailed, I was soon to find out). 
The rest of the day was spent joyously spread out on the lawn in front of their house, unpacking our car, and eating various delicious meals and treats provided by different members of the group- amazingly giant vegan ice cream sandwiches. Although it was a little strange to hear their recounts about their weekend without having enjoyed the same adventures, it was great having so many people sharing a space in such a simple way- just sharing stories, soaking up the sun (and smoking, etc).

We planned on leaving the next day, but our car, Stella, required some attention. We ended up spending most of the next day wandering through town after dropping off our car, deciding the 2 mile trip downtown would be more scenic on foot. One thing that struck me about Denver is the amount of dispensaries. Just as Seattle has their coffee shops, one on every corner, every strip mall is equipped with at least one dispensary, and some form of extreme exercise like spin class, rock climbing, or bikram yoga.  When we finally made it downtown, we were hungry for brunch and eager to eat at a vegan restaurant we ate at last year on our visit. Amil had some squash soup that he kept raving abuot, and I devoured a quinoa based burger with a fried egg on top and all sorts of gourmet toppings and dressings, as well as some delicious French fries.

After lunch, Amil went to get the car, and I set on a walk to another location we fell in love with, the tattered cover bookstore. I read that there are two locations, so I head toward the farther one that we hadn’t been to before.

I really like the city of Denver. Despite being a major city, it seems small and walkable. I walked about 30 blocks down their pedestrian sidewalk to the river. They don’t brag about being a sustainable but do cool things like promote recycling, have free trolleys, and rent board games for free in the sitting space between the pedestrian mall. It may have also been the warm sun, the size of the buildings, or the casual but efficient atmosphere, but I could see myself living in the mountains nearby, and calling Denver home one day.

Amil, Nick and his motorcycle riding, bearded friend aptly referred to as Barney did some bonding under the hood of our car, and after a quick trip to the parts store, ended up fixing Stella themselves for almost 1/7^th of the price the car shop was charging, and as a result we got to stay one more night, which afforded us an opportunity to see my cousin.

Brittany was staying at her boyfriend’s place in Denver, and when we arrived she came out to meet us and show us around the block. Being college kids and musicians, I imagined the house to be a disaster, like the spaces I endured in college, so I understood her coming to meet us outside. After walking to a little park and catching up, helping a kid who fell down off the monkey bars and was crying his brains out but whose parents just kept yelling at him in Spanish not to talk to strangers, and doing a bit of catching up, my cousin and her boyfriend invited us into one of the coolest, and cleanest houses I have ever seen college students live in. 
They brought us downstairs past a mobile art installation he had been working on, as they introduced us to the cats and warned us that the roommates were still sleeping. The entire downstairs, save two bedrooms, was a recording studio. The corners had instruments that had been left behind by previous tenants or acquired from friends who needed storage space. Xylophones, drum sets and guitars, closed in by walls soundproofed in creative and modern ways. They showed us the recording room, and my cousin’s boyfriend began to explain the physics behind sound. This led us into his room for an experiment with frequency. If you emit a specific frequency for the space you are in (which can be calculated based on the size of the space), the frequencies hitting off the walls will cancel each other out and make really loud pockets and really quiet pockets. Of course, we had to try it out—the four of us walked around his narrow room ducking and standing on our tiptoes or pausing whenever the noise was deafeningly vibrant or surprisingly faint.

With our minds blown and our hearts happy, we packed ourselves into our tetris-ed car and head into the wilderness towards Estes Park for a night.

Capturing the Clutes of Cultures Cross-Country …11

Connecticut-

Unlike the geographical line from Connecticut to NY, which is subtle, our visit to Ridgefield was a welcome and wild change from where we had been staying in NYC>

As the train chugged out of NYC, the trees got bigger and bigger, eventually emerging from between colonial white houses that mark the rich town of Ridgefield. My friend and her partner are not wealthy, they are probably in poverty according to the government, but they live a rich life without ever buying food. Yep, they only dumpster and forage all their meals, and they still get more than any human needs to consume. 

We met up with my friend Stephanie, another college friend who I’ve corresponded with mostly through snail mail since leaving, but have had the chance to see a couple times since we graduated. She welcomed us into her humble abode, a small square of living space that featured a bed, a writing desk, a counter, a wood stove, a kitchen counter, a small loft with another bed, and a bathroom. Although we were in the ‘suburbs’ now, this space—a carriage house above the garage that they rent from the house owner—could have easily fit in the living room of our relatives in Brooklyn.

As we settled into the simple but well structured space, Stephanie offered us some breaded ‘chicken of the forest’ mushroom, with ketchup, a flavor I haven’t eaten in a long time. We chat while they cooked us a dinner of dumpstered vegetables and recently foraged fungus. We sat on their patio for dined on stir-fried eggplant, shitake and other misc. mushrooms, a cold salad with veganaise (a delicacy from the dumpster) and corn tassles, the first time I’d eaten those. I thought they tasted really good but in hindsight, that might have been the veganaise. Afterward, we grabbed the popcorn maker (dumstered from walgreens) and walked through some lawns to get to a friends house.

We watched Samsara with her two cute kids, about 10 and 14, with curly blonde hair, eating popcorn and drinking basil tea. We walked back home and settled into their upstairs, perusing their increidble library of field guides as we drifted off to sleep

When we woke up in the morning, after they had gone to work, we walked around town, took their advice and got a free pass from the library to an art museum, then found after walking there that they didn’t open for another hour and a half, so I napped in the grass while Amil juggled. Once it opened, we found that 3 of the 4 exhibits were in transition. The most memorable thing was not a photo on the wall or a ‘sculpture’ of a shot glass or painting of Spongebob, but a giant camera you could sit in. In consisted of a dark room that you could sit in and watch a pin-hole project the image of the street outside (upside down) and anyone walking down the sidewalk.

Stephanie came home from work early, ready for a long Memorial Day weekend of mushroom hunting, and dropped us off at the train station, where we caught a ride back to Amil’s brother’s house for one more night in NYC. 

It was great finally getting to see how Stephanie lives. We grew a lot together in college, both invocated and awe-stuck by the information we were learning. Since parting ways with graduation, we’ve kept each other up to date and in check on our lifestyles and ideals. It’s so wonderful to have someone to keep me rooted on the things that really matter to me, especially as I move so transiently from one community to another. Her living space shows a practical way to live sustainably that doesn’t sacrifice comfort or community. 

For more info about how to live off the land,., sustainably, and as an active part of the community, check out Stephanie’s blog:http://stephaniescavelli.wordpress.com/

Country Clues

Brooklyn B-side-

After several hours of traffic spent cuddled in a bus with the air conditioning on high, we returned to Brooklyn. For tonight, instead of staying within the simplicity of Amil’s brother’s apartment, we would visit a college friend who I worked in the food co-op with.

Walking from the subway to this different area in Brooklyn, under the clacking of the trains on rails high above, along the sidewalk weaving roads spotted with zooming cars exemplified the commotion in NYC, and the smell.  When we arrived at his apartment, the 3^rd floor of a house that he co-owns with 10 people, I couldn’t help but admire the contrast between this and the lives of Amil’s family living just a few subway stops away. We arrived on a hectic day amid a roommate swap, so the intricate, colorful living room was crowded with Dan, the new roommate’s boxes. Homemade tinctures lined the mantle, and Beehive collective posters covered the half-completed muraled walls. The kitchen was a 7 foot by 4 foot space that Stefan creatively arranged to make room for spices and grains. Although they didn’t have a working compost system in place, Stefan guided us in the way of throwing bits of food and seeds out the window the garden below.

Later, a tour of the building included a dingy basement that smelled all too much like stagnant spaces after shows in College,  that they use to host bands from all over the country. A walk through the basement past a stack of stuff spilling into the hall led us to a door that reveled a space rare to most Brooklyn homes. Bordered by a chain link fence on one side, and a solid cinderblock wall 20’ high on the other, they had a functional garden space that had sadly been over grown. Stefan, who had spent time in his travels as a farmer, expressed ambitions of making the compost heap in the back accessible, planting some more useful plants than the flowers and squashes that had run wild, and ultimately transforming this green sanctuary among a city of bricks into a functional garden that maintained its use as a smokers spot when shows spilled out from the basement.

Back inside we grilled up some onions and beans, and chopped some beets and cukes and carrots into a slaw. I wasn’t hungry as much as I wanted to relieve the burden of carrying all the vegetables we had bought from Union Square that we cleared out of the fridge and already lugged to Garnerville and back. I nibbled on our veggie concoction late into the evening, while reminiscing about college days and catching up on what all our friends are doing now.  
Stefan had to wake up early in the morning, but we stayed in the space, eventually leaving to take a stroll to a nearby used bookstore. Despite its quaintness and isolation among non-commercial buildings, this is a favorite of all the bookstores I’ve been to. When we checked out, tempted ny the offerings of coffee, tea and beer, Amil got a book about ‘the Strange’ (mysterious things that happen in our world), and a book on palm reading that he’s proudly been practicing. I purchased a Natural History book that I was tempted with at The Strand in NYC called Dirt, as well as a new Anais Nin book to add to my collection, and a $1 paperback called Moulin Rouge (throughout the rest of our road trip and the days of adjusting back home, I tore through the 500 page novel about Toulouse Lautrec).

We returned from the bookstore and made ourselves at home, trying to make a dent in our food cache, and enjoying some of the anarchist literature sprawled around. Shortly after sitting down to a meal, a subletter and her friend came in and made themselves at home on the couch, not even asking who we were or what we came for. I love this sense of communal living. Stefan and I have the same memories of sitting at the co-op surrounded by friends and and strangers who identify with the feeling of family simply due to the openness of the space. His home was like this. The duo began to watch a fiction story about Burning Man, which I would pop over and peek at every once in a while. Despite the comfort of the space, and the welcomeness of the people we encountered in Brooklyn, there was always this underlying sense of hustle, or happening. I think deep down I longed for the slow progress of New Mexico days, and look forward to the possibility of coming back to that.

After a chill morning in a comfortable space, we were to pack our bags and head back out to ride the subway to the train to catch a bus to visit another friend from college in Connecticut.

Capturing Clues Across the Country …9

Garnerville-

2 hours after departing the bustle of Brooklyn with Amil’s brothers, weaving through taillights on busy New York highways, zooming past growing stretches of green in our venture up north, we arrived in Garnerville, at Amil’s aunt and uncle’s house. Amil had spent several weeks here after we met, recovering from surgery and we had spent time here on our last great cross country journey, so I greeted the vibrant green hills behind the staunch straight houses in the suburbs with a bit of a warm welcoming in my heart.

A lot had changed in this household since our last visit a year and a half ago. This, along with the contrast of personal beliefs between us and Amil’s family’s was illustrated best with the dinner that night. 
Like many of the activities we were invited to in New York, we weren’t really told what to expect, where things were happening, what time, etc. My only expectation of this family gathering was that we would be eating dinner, (probably bbq) together, since we hadn’t all been together in over a year.
In reality, all was a blur of movement and eating, and talking, and settling. Some people opened bags of chips they had just bought, others offered dips, some grilled, others chopped onions, while others made a salad. After almost an hour of greetings and check-ins and hustle and bustle in the kitchen, one by one we made our way to the table, putting out one dish after someone else had filled their plate, or filling our plate with one menu item but not the other. 
We dined, as family, eating our own independent interpretation of the meal that was pulled together by the unique individuals around us, off of paper plates on a mirrored table. Conversation between this group of people- Amil’s brothers with his Aunt and Uncle, their daughter, and his brother’s significant others as well as the two of us, had never occurred before, and ranged from food to politics, to society, law enforcement, and education- all pretty heavy subjects for a first meeting. I couldn’t help but admiring the different opinions and the different emotions behind them, as I watched a glass of water ripple on the table under our conversation. In the mirror of the table, just as in the undertones of the words spoken, the water seemed to bounce and wave, but on the table, as our appearance and politeness attempted, the water’s underlying ripples were unseen, and it was apparently motionless.

The next morning I again tried the sea-level run. The air here, although humid, had a slight twinge of cool that I hoped would help me push though, and it did. I had two great runs through the little neighborhood, while also taking advantage of their jump rope and weight set.

Although we were away from the big city and all it’s easy subway connections, we had found many opportunities just a drive away from where we were staying. We got a massage, cooked a lot of vegan food, and I got to experiment with several vegan ice creams- avocado coconut (the lime is everything!) and chocolate peanut butter banana (this one I may keep in my back pocket. 3 easy ingredients whipped together and chilled before dinner, perfect after dinner treat. We about killed the whole bit). On another day, Amil’s aunt drove us to the mall for him to get his eyes checked out for new glasses. Driving in her car to the second largest mall in the country, walking around between the four floors, avoiding good-smelling temptations of pretzels, burgers, and frozen yogurts…I felt thankful for my quaint life in the woods in the last year. Away from products and things people are trying to sell you, and tell you that you want and you should be. Most of all, the driving, the buying, the avoiding was an interesting contrast to our next visit just across the Hudson.