Californian Landing

California-Southern, Orange County-Coastal, Dana Point, above Strands Beach. I AM SO GLAD TO BE HOME! I want to fill in what happened after Shamrock, TX. I pondered a passing view for a while: a man near the Donley County line, about 50 miles East of Amarillo. I was having a gospel-like groove on the car stereo as I rolled westward. Chaka Khan's "Love has Fallen on Me", and I'm keeping myself entertained by imagining I'm the conductor: Strings, bass, cymbals, organ- when up the I-40 offramp, walks a puffed out creamy yellow windbreaker and skinny legs in jeans bottomed by wrangler boots. He was an f'ing wrangler, with a baby blue lil suitcase, just ambling on up the offramp. The jacket was puffed because there was SO MUCH wind it was like he was on a motorbike. But, he was walking- he was OUTTA THERE! Was it the foolish beginning of a journey, or a daily commute to work?
Corn. Cotton. Corn. Cotton. Gigantic cross with statues of families and individuals carrying their heavy crosses round the base. Corn. Cotton. "Jesus Christ is Lord- And not a swear word. Travel Mart". Corn. Cotton. "Staying Here was the Best Hospital Visit Ever!!!"- a billboard. Corn. "Furr's Buffet". Cotton. I stopped for fuel, and saw something I have never seen- both a product and a completely S L O W clerk. It was a vaporizer for cigarettes. "Smoke virtually anywhere!". It was 69 degrees at 12:12 in Amarillo. Swirly, water-color like clouds in a blue sky happen to make my t-shirt camouflage. I hoo-hooted to Amber on the phone as I crossed the New Mexico state line. I cried a little. I'm seriously tan from driving alongside the sun all day- I'm breaking and re-establishing major seasonal cycles. Biggest stereo hits of the day include: Why'd you Come in Here- Dolly Parton, Divided Sky- Phish, You Can't Hurry Love- Supremes, Mary, Don't You Weep- Aretha Franklin. First tumbleweed on Old Route 66 in NM.
Santa Fe was all about Sarah C. Her 3 girls and hubby were my great friends back in NY until they moved to Farmington, NM in the late spring. When I told her my travel plans, she said she'd be in Santa Fe that weekend for a Museum Educators conference- it was the Hotel Santa Fe, the areas only Native American Owned hotel. Dog-accepting. And she was there on scholarship, in our very own suite! Santa Fe is dear, and we had an amazing walk that included an enchanted riverscape.
We ate at Cafe Pasquale's, where we sat at a table with a huge Dia de los Muertes shrine/altar. For the staff that decorated it, it was more like a Christmas tree with favorite ornaments and new spun-sugar skulls each year. My DM altar this year was for good ol' Kimberly. Coke slush, some pills, her dogs, her Papa, a libretto, a palm tree(in memorial of her 1990 signature hairstyle). Her camera, which she loved so much that she took flash photographs from our back-row seats for the Dick Tracy movie at Edwards Cinemas. Yes, it was her day to visit and I had all her favorite things ready.
Cafe Pasqual's is a great place, focusing on my kind of foods: Local and cultural (to central New Mexico), Quality and creative. This was not my first visit. The last time was on my way OUT to New York, a year and a half ago: I set out on the town and found Pasqual's- I had heard of the place in conversations that included Chez Panisse and Regional Cooking. It was packed, and I decided to wait. I joined a table with a bunch of great folks, 2 of whom had just opened their art show at a gallery. We had a ball, and the food was phenomenal; I came back next morning with my traveling companion! This time with Sarah, we also left with full stomachs and happy hearts. Time with Sarah always fills my heart.
I was also happy to have Spanish back around me, and the Native culture appeared vibrant (Not like the drunk I encountered in Flagstaff). Cor and I ambled around the Old Town and the Square, and I realized that he is DEFINITELY a swine flu vector- I could smell all kinds of ritzy lady perfumes on his cute lil head. Vectoring around. I have become a hand-wash-aholic in the past few weeks, especially while traveling.
We stopped at the Continental Divide- where the water on the right runs to the Atlantic and on the left flows to the Pacific. Cor waited at the point while I went back East (500 feet) to fetch the car. He knows! This is the majorest step westward. Some of the others included crossing: The Hudson River, The Mason-Dixon Line, The Mississippi River, Indian Nations, OK City (feels 1/2 way). The southwest feels so un-whitewashed after New England. There are so many New (actually old) Americans (whites) for so darn long there. And, this SW view includes coloful double-decker mile-long trains. The landscape, now in AZ, is red mesas rising off the gently undulating, creosote-pocked desertscape. There are no trees, except along the washes. I also detect my first taste of LA basin haze near Winslow, AZ. This confirms my agreement with myself to avoid dropping in to said basin via the Cajon Pass by skirting the area and coming in through...Palm Springs, perhaps?
Stopped in Flagstaff for a bite. Of dinner. The evergreen pines appear suddenly as I climb up to the college town- much different than the last one: Bowling Green, KY. Flagstaff was full of firsts: Cute boy in 1,000 miles, Fresh salsa, Ugg boots with tank tops, and AVOCADO! I had a sandwich starring the beloved fruit- it was great, minus the toothpick in it which was not visible in the dark car. It also was the first time I heard Lady Gaga since the East Coast. This time it was followed by Shakira- which always takes me back to Italy with Sherin: Riz and I got dolled up, after my dramatic Euro hair chop which left years of vegan food proteins and zillions of other sense memories on the floor of an Italian barber shop. After unsuccessfully trying to convince the two cute brothers at a restaurant that we were actually brother and sister and both completely available, we went to have a few drinks- at a bar with karaoke and only one other local group there. Anyways, those Italians were picking out the few English songs and insisting that we sing them(Much the same as in Thailand when J-Can and I were prompted to sing "Hotel California"), including "Wherever, Whenever" by Shakira. This was one of those revealing moments, when I actually see the words to a song I don't know that well. Including, "My breasts are small and humble, so you don't confuse them with mountains." Yes, my radio journey had returned from a foray into Bluegrass, Gospel, County, and back out with Radio Free Santa Fe and now this. It's 77 degrees at 8:09pm, and I am headed south to catch the I-10 towards the low desert of Southern California!!!
Unfortunately, now that I was stoked to be so close, I took a wrong turn. Phoenix just jams all my signals. And I missed the cut-off through the Prescott Valley! It's like the LA freeways, but no ocean and a lot hotter. I got flashed in Phoenix- doubly. Speed camera. This was my wrong turn of the trip, but whatevz because I made it to Palm Springs and surpride surpride- it's Pride weekend!
One word: Come. This place was great. Amazing deep chlorineless pool, dogs welcome, gorgeous organic fruit-infused alcohol and house-made fresh fruit purees and syrups for cocktails, gays/straights, some kids to play pingpong with, wonderful DJs and art, delicious poolside candy, and incredible views of the San Jacinto peaks from the pool. Basically, everyting I came for and more.
So, my first day in CA was spent swimming, sunning, drinking, and having a ball. Only to be followed with a coastal reunion with Sarah P and Riz, and finaled with a giant hug from Mom an Dad.
Stay tuned for next adventure, departing tomorrow night for further westward journeying!

Kicking It Off

Texas Panhandle, Shamrock, Western Motel, Route 66.
12:01am, Thursday, Nov 5th 2009.
I am stunned to be in Texas again, the gateway to the Southwest!
I loaded the Farm at Millers Crossing truck and set up my last appearance at the Hudson Farmers Market, ever. I had everything loaded- Corey, the doorlock on the house had been reinstalled, and the porch was swept for potential house buyers when, by some grace of God, I actually REMEMBERED to bring my passport. Going to Nepal and India required this stroke of inspired luck.
I drove through the heart of Columbia County, eating Honeycrisps from Loveapple Farm as a thin but steady rain blew across the leafless trees. Katie Smith gave me a pair of beezwax-dipped bright NY state leaves, which have guided me from the rearview as I discover more and more leaves like I am going back in time while I head southward. Crossing the Hudson River, I quite suddenly felt like "WHOA, what had just happened?" and I was referring to the past 20 months I had been there. The sense of freedom filled me up, and I set my sights toward the setting sun.
First arrival was in Victor, NY. A neighborhood of young families- I saw no children over 13, and most kids were under 7. I definitely noticed that every parent had an adult beverage, and came to realize the similarity between this Victor, NY and a college town- although the kids made the distinction. This place was like a sorrority of moms, and they partied! I came to see some kiddos that are dear to my heart, whom I've knows since their births over the past 6 years. It was such a great love boost- you should have seen little Tyler bounding across a front lawn in his batman suit, shreiking "UNCLE RYAN!" as he successfully used his flying super power to leap into my arms. After trick or treating and the kids Halloween insulin levels forcing them to bed, the party really got raging- jello shots, dancing in the garage, and one woman who was a labor and delivery nurse yelling at people "Your gonna get pregnant again tonight!" when they did a rad dance move.
Next morning I met a new friend, baby Harper. It was a real factor in my community of friends in NY- there were not enough babies! At least not affiliated with people my age. There are plenty of teenage moms in Philmont- they go from getting curvy at 15 to growing a bump really quickly. And, smoking. I am so excited for my friends' kids back in my life!
I pushed on through to Columbus OH. Cousin Kerry is sweet, fun, and funny. I immediately advised her of my experience, and wish her all the best! We ate Mexican, drank Core vodka cocktails, and watched Brothers&Sisters on TV. In the moring, Cor and I walked down to a pond. He is so slow these days that I brought along a jump rope to keep myself movin while he was ambling along.
My next stop was a very groovey little Clintonville food coop . It was darling and in a neighborhood, I found some great local products like Amish puffed honeyed corn, which is Corey's favorite road snack, and dried fruit. I filled a honeybear container with bulk Dr Bronners and then forgot it- hope no one tried to sweeten with it! I traveled on to a Shaker Village , which was totally amazing. They built so much, and died out due to celibacy within 100 years of shakin and bakin. I went for a run, chatted with a broom maker, checked out the native Kentucky grasslands, and perused the craft shop. The place is also a working Inn, and is just fantastic. Onward thru Kentucky backroads! Saw a "Hell is Real!" roadsign.
I had been staying with loved ones and sharing meals with them, but tonight I'm in Bowling Green, and I'm flying solo. I found the village square, the groovey coffee shop, and got a room at a dog-friendly hotel. We went out to eat at the brickyard cafe, which was great. But, what a trip to be in the south again! I had a great salad, since I had not been eating so much freshies lately. I also had a pizza and the most incredible stuffed mushrooms- let's just call it shrimp and jack cheese in a fungus. There were two Kentuckans in the bar part, where I sat. Both in their 60s, a couple of four years, and just sucking down the cocktails and cooperatively chain smoking- I never saw both of them lit, never saw neither lit. I saw a lot of tobacco drying in barns around these beautiful parts, and noticed the smoking demographic is different than the teen parents of Philmont- it is more Mercedes drivers and people like this glamorous has-been old couple who talked about "used to..." and "shoulda seen us when...". Tobacco is a rich old business here, not a dirty distraction like in New England. The bar had 14 kinds of whiskey, 2 kinds of vodka. I had a tinge of "I Miss NYC" at this Kentucky culture metropolis. Came Home to the Holiday Inn and chatted with dear Auts on the phone before snuggling down with Cor at my side.
Next day was destination Brandon in West Memphis, Arkansas. During the drive, I pondered on a metaphor I frequently use: "Life Never Goes on Cruise Control". But, roadtrips, thank Goodness, DO! We are all thirsty- me, the car (gas), and Corey. But, only the creatures have to pee. It's warm- I'm in a tshirt and shorts. Cor is lightly panting on his princess and the pea bed, but I know better than to put a loaded dog water bowl in the mix of dogbed, sleeping sheet, and big paws. That old sleeping sheet is a relic- It is a huge 7+-foot square of cotton fabric, printed in black, purple, and cream colored mandala of grooviness. I got it at Ko Sahn Rd in Bangkok, and used it as a sleeping bag throughout Thailand.
As I'm remembering these origins and preparing to pull over to pee, we pass the Carlisle Municipal airport. When it's one tiny plane and a little paved runway, I think, "Flying isn't so bad!"..but, ughhh, Dear Lord- the upcoming flights to Bangkok then Kathmandu!
BrandonLand was amazing. I can not believe it! We cried and swayed about coming Home to where the heart and the folks and the friends are. He is There. I'm on my Way! We didn't really cry and sway. But, we did tour his Heartland- saw his growing up home, where his brother and family live, his garden- one acre of about 2,000 of Pugh Family Farms. Delta Sol, his growing operation, is gorgeous and so set up. I am very proud of Brandy!!! His Daddy's operation is kind of same same but different. We found him after driving through soybean fields for almost 15 minutes, near the combine and 18-wheeler it was filling with harvested and threshed beans. It's truly amazing how these two are in the same family, on the same family land, and continuing the legacy of farming there. We went to the Mississippi for dusk, and the dogs swam- well, Corey only mucked around and Goose lunged out as far as we could throw the stick.
We went out to Iris restaurant in Memphis for dinner. It is 100% my kind of joint. And, we had lovely dinner company- Georgia! Took it right to the next level, being reunited with Brandon's longtime friend, flight attendant, and house appraiser at Appraise Him Appraisals. The meal was exquisite, chef Kelly was perfect and such a cute man. We ordered 5 starters and one main, a couple cosmos to start and a bottle of pinot accompanied. We went out to a moderately sketchy gay bar afterwards and met another girlfriend, had some beers, and called it a night. I fell asleep after perusing the bedside reading Brandon had provided: The Ethical Slut. Which was better than the book his Dad and he came across in Brandon's office last week.
The morning found me committing to getting a DVD and player for the long flights so I could watch the 2 DVD set of Madonna's music videos that we shrieked over all AM. We started with Like A Prayer into Cherish into Vogue- at that point we had sat down to eat a yummy garden fresh breakfast with a laptop in front of the window, talking about Paris is Buring. The TV at the family meal is another Thai-style throwback. And all the while we drink mug upon mug of drip-brew Strongtree. I finally make it out of there amongst lots of photos and really tight manhugs. I feel completely sure of Brandon now, in Arkansas: ROCKING HIS SCENE.
Yesterday was a Push It day for Cor and I- we headed out of West Memphis and across Arkansas. The Ozark region is beautiful, and then into Oklahoma. I was deeply pondering all of these Indian place names, like Shawnee, Wewoka, Kickapoo. This came up because a special looking car appeared in front of me, and had an atypical license plate from the Muscogee Indian Nation. I realized that there are about 40 tribes/nations that were relocated to these parts. Trail of Tears. Permanent relocations between 1830 and 1877, from parts as far away as North Carolina, Nebraska, Ohio and Arizona. Made me feel like I did when I was on the Island of Tasmania over Easter in 1997. I realized that the white people had formed a human chain and swept the last Aboriginals off the cliffs into the sea in a final eradication effort. That made me sick, and that part of Oklahoma was serious for me. And, I made it out the other side to the Texas panhandle! I had looked at this town, Shamrock, on my map weeks ago and it's amazing I am actually here. Sunny and warm, tshirt again, and time to climb onboard! Next stop is Santa Fe to see Sarah!!!