Day 108 (Tuesday 11/6/12)- San Francisco, CA

Today was a serious Tourist day. We verified that we could skip the Wharf, but only after suffering through it. I did get fudge though and saw some sea lions. 

Then a quick tour of the Maritime museum. Quick only because it was an overbooked day and because apparently it was field trip day for the Juvenile hall. Otherwise a nice place to stay.

Next a bus ride to a horde of more tourists. This attraction was morbidly lovely. Local bicyclists nearly elbowing camera snappers off the Golden Gate bridge, and signs imploring others not to voluntarily jump. We survived with a phenomenal panoramic of the city. We then walked down to the water's edge and along it through a massive recreational area. Touristy and lovely.

Our final stop for the evening was the Palace of Fine Arts. Not a museum, but perhaps the most breathtaking city park we have ever seen. Grace Cathedral is to a Church what the Palace is to a park. Indeed a palace, domed and columned and all that.

For our evening accommodations friends Jessie and Bobby generously opened their home and cupboard to us. We spent the evening enjoying a delicious dinner, and after a polite period of pretending, for fear of offending one another, that there wasn't an election going on, watching and discussing the results. After weaving around the Northwestern quadrant of our United States and finding plenty of pleasant but sparse areas, with banners and billboards, bumper stickers and yard signs touting an America we are unfamiliar with we landed at the perfect place, for us, to talk politics--Berkley.

        One of three signs to imploring potential suicide jumpers not to-
                 An apparently common issue with the bridge

Palace of fine arts

Palace of fine arts

 

Day 107 (Monday 11/5/12)- San Francisco, CA

Today started with a high stakes winning streak and ended with a legitimate parking spot.

Instructed that we would have to gamble in exchange for our resort parking (different from the usual nightly gamble of whether we will wake to sunlight or a security guard's flashlight) we went into the casino, went to the bathroom, took $1.27, 9 cups of free soda, went to the bathroom again and left. Suffice to say the casino would have rather seen us just go than stay and play.

What had been the night before an annoying and scary drive became an exquisite and scary drive in daylight. We left the grapes alone, but even driving through wine country is special.

Likely to only have a few days in the Bay Area due to California's intolerance of car campers we decided to jump right into exploring San Francisco.

Parking in Oakland (which we were later told never to do) and taking the BART into the city we realized we would be unable to, in the 30 min ride, decipher the city's bus system, and so would be on our feet for the day. We found San Francisco strenuously lumpy. We took our lumps and hoofed up it.

We got off BART at the financial district and took a tour of the Wells Fargo history museum. Interesting enough and with enough material to last one half a day, but we left well before that to explore Chinatown and stop in at a back alley fortune cookie factory. It was a revelation to try a cookie that hasn't been sitting around since Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker were a marketable duo.

Then up an enormous hill to Grace Cathedral. The massive and ornate church is at the peak of the hill, and really San Francisco, and spans an entire city block. It has exquisite detail both inside and out, fascinating nooks and a series of doors leading into glorious little rooms.

Sitting on a bench outside Isaiah and I talked about the SF episode of "No Reservations" we had seen. The host, Anthony Bourdain, had some enthusiast and drunken things to say about a hotel bar fit for a pirate. We could not remember the name of the bar or the hotel that encases it, which led to the inquiry: "excuse me kind church ladies where can a pirate get a drink around here?" They were little help. On a hunch we found it across the street. Alas it was closed until Wednesday night, breaking our little sailor's heart. (Actually, I think the Sailor bar is in the Castro district).

We spent the evening with friends Bekah and Alex, enjoying engaging conversation, ranging from racing immigrants up the Pacific Crest Trail, how Sal Paradise seemed to be able to get an apple pie, ice cream and methamphetamine for a nickle, and how romantically dedicated to their depression someone would have to be to book a flight, hotel, look out over the beauty of San Francisco and jump off a bridge. Join us tomorrow and read about our travels to the golden gate bridge.

 

Day 106 (Sunday 11/4/12)- Highway 1, CA

There is no better way to spend a lazy Sunday than to drive Highway 1 along the California coast line. But only if you consider 7 hours of driving lazy. The drive is extremely dangerous, but only because the road becomes an afterthought. To its side the rival of surf steals all of one's attention. We stopped several times to properly enjoy beach sides without the threat of death, including one that appeared to be named after J.C.V.D. "the muscles from Brussels."  

Yep, sun, surf, stolls along the beach. All that jazz.

The drive left us feeling exhausted, but blissful, when we pulled into the Walmart. This was one of many end of day California heartbreaks, as we learned they didn't want to support our eyesore of a van and no one else in the vicinity wanted us either.

We were able to convince a casino in Napa Valley to let us park for the night for free as long as it cost us lots of money. What seemed at night to be a horrible turn of luck, backtracking for an hour up a long and twisting and somewhat dangerous road (It was dark so we couldn't see how dangerous. But it was dark so we couldn't see much of anything) turned out to be a smirk of fate.

 

Day 105 (Saturday 11/3/12)- Redwood Highway, CA

Having spent a month lounging and lunch dates becoming our new profession we were ready to get back to adventure and starvation.

 

What better way than to tour the Californian Redwoods- adventuring that is. (Don't worry we subsist, it only feels like starvation when compared to our bulking regiment at home. We had to leave. Because we were starting to have the sinister feeling we were going to be served for Thanksgiving dinner).

At one time almost 2 million Redwoods were spread throughout California and Oregon. As of 1991 only 93,000 remain and California has 80% of them. Credit for the remaining redwoods goes to Charles Kellogg, a preservationist and professional bird warbler, back when a bird warbler could be considered a professional. In 1917 a man donated him a fallen Redwood tree, which he turned into a truck. He took the tree on wheels around the country, demonstrating to the nation the wonder of the Redwoods. His effort led to several state parks. This, if you can believe it, was not his most impressive feat. It was said Kellogg could, if you lit a candle and turned on your radio, extinguish the candle's flame with the vibrations of his bird call. Another time in history he might have been thought a witch but thankfully people just considered him weird. Another time in history a man driving in a tree and claiming to sing notes no one can actually hear might have been considered crazy.

Driving through the Redwoods is an amazing experience that can be improved by actually stopping. We had both speedily perused the region on prior trips as a scenic alternate route, on the way to other destinations. This time we meandered by road and hiked by trail and got a much fuller appreciation of the wonderful forest. 

We didn't do the drive through a tree thing. There are tunnels made of rock that are free. I imagine the black in a tree tunnel is the same as the dark of a concrete tunnel. We saved $10 and found a tree we could stand inside.

 

Oregon

As the title implies we spent the month of October visiting family and friends in Corvallis and enjoying showers, not just the liquid kind with soap and shampoo, but showers of love and generosity. Seriously didn't have to lift a finger whatsoever. I guess there was a lot of fork and spoon movement.

Our favorite part of our luxurious reverse vacation, trading travel for domesticity, may have been its unexpectedness. The reason you may be reading this months after the fact is not due to writerly lethargy but a masterful conspiracy. We didn't want to give away our actual coordinates fearing people would notice a general trend towards our home State. The family, along with most everyone, was under the impression we were in Utah. They called, while we were sailing past Albany, to harass us on updating the blog. Isaiah promised a full report that very night, he compared the weather with Aunt Barb and noted how strikingly similar the weather in Corvallis was to where we were and saying we had to scope out our camping spot for the night we knocked on the their door. It wasn't until Aunt Barb stopped screaming and began breathing, only when she relinquished me from a death grip she called a hug and Mom was able to rationalize our seeming teleportation from Utah, we were able to assess our devious surprise as not, as it first appeared, a very, very bad idea. Everyone still alive, it was time for sister. Lured over by non existent pie I forced a slasher movie scream out of her when I torpedoed out from behind the couch. Later my friend Annie was dumbfounded to find I was not only back home but had gotten a job at the Panda Express as I offered to fill her soda. Next into the trunk of the car. Leaping out when friends Tabatha and Laurie opened the back to help Annie unload some "luggage". The best, though weirdest, surprise I saved for Lizzie, the friend least suited for bizarre punking.

Costumed in what can only be described as a bad idea with a poncho, pajamas, and a smart sock sandal combo as flair, I took to a street corner holding a cardboard sign featuring an arrow and the entreaty: "won't you take me to funky town?" My co conspirator Annie pulled over to pick me up with Lizzie in tow, telling her she knew me from her volunteer work at the homeless shelter. This was the least odd element of the plan as Annie would and has done this very thing before. I attempted my best "Sling Blade" accent complimenting the lovely lady's on their pretty mouths, but dissolved into laughter. Lizzie took the situation gracefully, but along with wondering how I had ended up back home she must surely have been wondering how she had ended up friends with me in the first place.

It was a great trip and difficult to leave but revived and with reserves in our bellies we eventually said our goodbyes and reunited with the road. Miss you all.

Day 100-104 (Fri 9/28/12 - Tues 10/2/12)- Emmett, ID

We spent the weekend with my Uncle and Aunt in the small town of Emmett ID, getting spoiled with regular showers, good food and Uncle Rich working on our brakes. We even got to see the Certified Emergency Response Team they head and help park cars at a historic home tour. With the fate of the small community in his hands, Isaiah got his Jack Bauer on. No, rather he lounged seated in the shade only moving to occasionally and nonchalantly point in the general direction of the parking lot. My job was to guide cars into their actual parking spots and involved standing for hours in the sun, taking a bath in gravel dust and having to put up with some seriously confused people. I mean I am pointing with a bright orange wand, in daylight, waving cars in like a third base coach with a lit charcoal in his pants and they can't seem to figure out which way to go. Note the two other navigational options were straight into a barn or left off a bridge and into water. Now you will know why, when you are next at an event, why the dude in the parking lot looks like he's trying to help land a plane.

Some highlights from the weekend were peacock and quail viewings and Isaiah getting to try a buffalo burger (I did not merely try, I with ease and relish finished, thank you).

But the real thank you goes to Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Rich, for everything.

Day 99 (Thursday 9/27/12)- Salt Lake City, UT

　
Our last day in Salt Lake was the best and not because we were leaving. We started the morning by missing a tour of the Capitol building (this was dissimilar to our first visit on Sunday where we caught a tour only to find that since we were not retirees from Florida we were excluded).

Onto the Utah Museum of Contemporary Art, where we visited three exhibits. One featured videos of the novel art of "ironic" interviewing. Celebrities would respond in surprisingly varied ways to monotone questioning by an apparent artist pretending to have Aspergers. It was fascinating, especially how people who are rarely rattled squirmed under the blank expression of the host, who had a rule of not saying anything beyond his short, pre prepared questions. He met his match in Rick Reuben, who aware of the set up, responded in kind, never deviating beyond, "yes" or "no." An interview with almost nothing beyond awkward silence. Most of the segments were both intesting and funny. You learn more about the interviewee in how they handle the situation than the actual answers they give. Search Asitlays on YouTube to see some of the interviews.

Another exhibit spanned two rooms, both devoted solely to photos of a little, fluffy, white, stuffed animal dog dressed in different outfits and in different scenes from around the world. In each picture "Mr. Wrinkle" had it's tongue out and it's rear leg contorted into unnatural angles. The doll was perpetually oblivious of its wardrobe changes-a police uniform, a princess gown, a salesman suit, etc. We found out at the end, only by asking the receptionist, that the photos are of a real permanently disfigured dog, who the artist found on the side of the road. We are horrible people. We had laughed at the poor wreck of a dog through the whole gallery.

Next onto the planetarium. A two story building filled with all sorts of cool exhibits that redeems the small hike it takes to get there. The adjoining movie theatre is the only thing in the building with a price tag.

One of my favorite activities would have to be the intergalactic scale. On Jupiter I am enormous! Also noteworthy was the indoor cloud (not dry ice but actual condesated water droplets) that was touchable as much as a cloud is touchable. There was even a giant machine that was basically a game of Mouse Trap that stretched for two stories.

Our last adventure for the day and the entire reason we stayed so long in SLUT (see reference from Sunday's Blog) was to see the world renowned Mormon Tabernacle choir. Every Thursday the choir practices for the public. We managed to be towards the front of a well organized line, with hundreds filing in behind us. Everyone got in, but in the the busier tourist seasons not even the arena sized sanctuary can hold all the hopefuls. The choir was excellent, but gigantic. How bad can it sound with 400 singers, drowning out a few weak links? In all seriousness, it was incredible. This brings up an interesting thought. Would I be more or less likely to vomit if 359 Nickleback cover bands were playing simultaneously?

You be the judge: Does Mr. Wrinkle look like a real dog?

Touching a cloud

Not really sure what I am doing here....

Moon Walk, as if you couldn't tell

Day 97 & 98 (Tuesday 9/25/12 & Wednesday 9/26/12)- Salt Lake City, UT­­

The reason for staying in Salt Lake for most of the week? Their good weed....No, their renowned Tabernacle choir. The tabernacle opens their practice session up to the public on Thursdays and so it meant killing a few more days in Salt Lake. This meant more shopping.

Tuesday morning's rainy wake up made us want to curl up on the couch with a cup of cocoa. We curled up at McDonalds instead. We then saught shelter at multiple Deseret Industry thrift stores. We hauled in a bounty, more that the van can support in fact, so now dresses and pants and tops function as pillows and blankets and head rests.

On Wednesday the weather was drier without being warm and so more of the same. We added the library to the marathonion shopping schedule. We also got caught up on the news. So much has happened. The Kenyan wizard Obama has shapeshifted into a chair. That, or Dirty Harry has wandered away from the Home.

Day 96 (Monday 9/24/12)- Salt Lake City, UT

Since most businesses in Salt Lake are closed on Sundays we had thought Monday would be a better day to explore downtown. This was true, with a major exception. The Museum of Contemporary art was taking the day off. The museum was supposed to be a break for Isaiah from my "all Mormon all the time" sightseeing tour. Turns out no sabbath for Isaiah.

Our first stop within the grounds was to the free Mormon history museum (I should mention all the tours and buildings in Temple Square are free. It probably wouldn't work well if you had to pay for the pleasure of indoctrination. Though it was a treat that their sermons included historical visuals and props. Well, there is one exception- you can't go in the temple. In fact most Mormons can't either. The temple is reserved for weddings, designations of priestholders, that sort of thing). The museum contains artifacts and artwork on the church's history and the traditions of their faith. Though the museum was impressive, in size, material, and seeming cost, there was one big disappointment-I learned nothing. The curators were careful to include only a superficial highlight of their past, leaving out all the succulent bits and ignoring all of the real questions one would like to ask, like, why the special underwear? Still, worth the visit but certainly a sanitized sampling of Mormonism. Though to be clear, if we come across museums for other faiths we would, I'm sure, find much the same. Don't want to pick on Mormons too much here.

We next went to the North Visitor center expecting it to be similar to the South counterpart we visited yesterday. If in a contest the North would again beat the South. The main level had a 3-D map where you could push a button and special Biblical landmarks would illuminate. The bottom floor had paintings and sculptures of different scenes from the Bible and the Book of Mormon. There was also a trove of videos of sermons from the church's current Prophet, Thomas Monson and from the men who make up the Quorum of the 12 Apostles. We actually sat and watched a few.

The Prophet and his two counselors, Henry Eyring and Dieter F. Uchtdorf form the First Presidency of the LDS. Prophet Monson spoke in an ancient language of the role of wives with nuggets like "your husband makes all the decisions but you really hold the family together. You are the one the children come to." We also watched a video by Henry Eyring which was a little more interesting as he talked about the death of his mother and actually got a little choked up. Still, on the whole, not a ton of insight.* Namely why, if they are so insistent that they are just like other Christians, should one upgrade and enroll with them and why, if they believe in the original, add another book to the cannon.

The top floor was undoubtedly the best. As you make your way up to it, a ramp curves up to the heavens, meaning a spiraling night sky mural rises and spreads on every side, encompassing the massive hall. I could see from the reverent and meditative congregation bent over in prayer that the room was special, but I was too excited to remain silent. The Mormon gawkers scattered. Pentecostal they are not. I then got to exclaim somewhat sacrileges praises to the artistry unperturbed.

How to follow a day experiencing the power of God but to go shopping, cleansing ourselves in the religion of consumption. Surprisingly Mormons dabble in this cult too. Many of the LDS missionaries, at least the ones on display in the museums, are not only strikingly attractive but surprisingly fashionable.

Unwinding by watching political commentary and comedy felt strange in Utah. Thankfully, no longer relevant discussion about Romney and the 47% has been retracted here. I guess that's what happens when you post a blog 2 months after the fact.

On our way to camp we passed "American Bush" (pretty sure not an ode to W but to V) who's parking lot at 9pm was teeming and a "spa" which didn't seem like a place any woman would ever visit. Even in Utah.

 

*Things we learned about Mormonism:

"The process of giving exalts the poor and humbles the rich"    -Marion Romney

"The Lord giveth no commandments to the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them" -1 Nephi 3:7

(The perpetual motion device of the Book of Mormon, -giveth no commandments except the commandment that the commandment will be accomplished)

 

 

Reflection of the Temple

 

 This temple took 40 years to build

Day 95 (Sunday 9/23/12)- Salt Lake City, UT

In the birthplace of the modern day Latter Day Saints we had hoped to attend a church service as a cultural experience. Depending on your perspective, we had the luck or misfortune of showing up on the one Sunday when church services were suspended. We were unaware the Saints were dedicating a new temple. We were unprepared in other ways too. Mormonism isn't conducive to travelers. We have the wrong type of backpacks, not black and bible sized, but cavernous and made for hiking. Caffeine is used on our trip as a cure all. And due to a sporadic laundry schedule I lack not only the requisite sanctified underwear, but perhaps on occasion might go unencumbered and live by faith.

We were unsutiably sutied with even our hand me down Mormon clothes looking too casual. (I was wearing pants, Isaiah didn't have a tie) A short look around the incredible capitol building and a room made of gold in our new to us Deseret Industries dress shoes produced blisters. Since they wouldn't let us in a church (or meetinghouse) anyway we changed back into street clothes.

The entire town of Salt Lake was designed for and around the church with all streets stemming from its hub and numbered by its distance from it. Said to be easy to navigate, we found addresses like "695 West 3370 South St." confusing.

We spent the afternoon at a few key spots of Mormon history, starting with the Beehive and Lion Houses. Brigham Young-the second church Prophet- built and lived in both homes in his later years. The Beehive house served as the early church's headquarters for many years. It is also where Brigham spent most his time and housed his favorite wives.

Two sweet Asian Mormon missionaries led a group of us around the Beehive house which is open for daily tours (the Lion House is not). As we learned on the tour Young was an approachable leader who had his bedroom set up in the front of the Beehive house to be always available to his Saints whenever they might stop by. Though he had only 11 days of formal education he deemed school important for his children. He also valued productivity, which was what we would call child abuse. He made his children sleep on mattresses comprised of a few strips of rope. After a couple of hours the ropes would sag, functioning as a pre-dawn alarm. What a sage leader-nothing ensures productivity like sleep deprivation. Then after all that, denying the youngins coffee....call in protective services.

In our tour group were two Saints in the their mid-to-late 20's who I was competing with in excitement (I have developed a fascination with Mormonism after reading Jon Krakauer's "Under the Banner of Heaven" ). Each represented the two classic Mormon stereotypes. One was a well groomed robot set to Mitt Romney mini executive mode. The other, the kid last picked in P.E., that is if he hadn't been homeschooled to believe muscle growth is too much like evolution. He had no fashion sense and less of an idea how to relate to us. He had clearly been shown the "How to make converts of teenage heathens" video from 1995. He described how he and his "playas" were able to get "jiggy" and do so even without the titlating effects of tea, which I should warn you comes straight from Jezebel's cauldron of liquid sin, heated by hell's charcoals.... I wonder how the Saints feel about crumpets. Because God knows its no fun if the homies can't get no crumpets.

Interestingly enough, this was not the end of our religious education. Each year the SLUT Krishna Temple holds "India Fest" an evening program and dinner, open to the public, a spirited introductory education on their temple and spiritual beliefs. (It took me a minute too. Salt Lake UT. We saw it on a bumper sticker). We had attempted to attend the festivities last night in Spanish Fork but had arrived too late. That sadly meant missing the tour of their massive eight-acre Taj Mahal-like temple grounds. We did luck into catching the encore performance, for the first time ever, in Salt Lake. Though "encore" like finishing up Godfather 2 with a showing of the third. The Krishna Temple in Salt Lake is small and rundown in comparison to the truimph of the Spanish Fork temple. Well, rundown by nearly any standard.

Though absolutely worth the $3 admission fee, here are some tips to make your time more enjoyable: come late and leave early. The first act was a group of five confused young people whose choreography involved wandering on and off stage during songs and whose sheet music must have included the notations: tap bells, mutter "Hare Krishna," until tounge falls off and "Remember you are performing for people." They were able to folow two of these musical instructions. I could have caught the same show at the airport and had the added benefit of a genital pat down. The last act was excruciating. We didn't stay for long but were able to decipher that it was some sort of Indian interpretation of Britney Spears at the MTV Music Awards. Lots of lip syncing, bare midriffs and bad music only the snake wasn't real and Britney, midriff and all, was played by a man. Also, the prop department consisted of the dazzling duo of Powerpoint and projector. I am also confident Brittney had access to professional sound equipment and didn't for her performance reapropriate the sound system of a 1974 Pinto.

Despite the crap bookends I would still recommend going, for the clear gem of the night-the dancing. Two acts performed traditional Indian deity dances. Somehow the festival had managed to attract the attention of Nadam dancers who are currently touring the U.S. from Bangalore, India.
　

I do not have a vocabulary to describe the grace, beauty and magic that made up their routine. It was phenomanal. Like gave me shivers. Like made me want to cry. Before each performance a dancer would explain some of the moves and their spiritual significance.

The second act was a solo dancer who Isaiah reported (I was getting food) as being completely different but likewise incredible. He even said he could almost imagine the second dancer's more deliberate routine in a club, but that the routine was nearly as much facial acting as the movement of limbs.

Quite a day.
 

Capitol Building

Inside the Capitol Building

The Lion House

Inside the Beehive House

 

Day 94 (Saturday 9/22/12)- Zion Park and Provo, UT

　Today marks three months on the road and, with the exception of some van flare ups, no signs of slowing down, though lately we've done less hiking.  Along those lines, today we took a bus.

We had signed up for the daily "Ride with a Ranger" tour, which started at 9a and which meant based on the location of our urban campground and the surrounding construction zone, a much earlier wake up time. Two hours of chauffering and narrating was a fine way to experience the park. Every guide gets to choose their stops along the way and our Ranger picked ones that perfectly highlighted her discussion about the forces that formed Zion and continue to do so.

The Virgin river that cuts through the park is deceptive, looking more modest than the reality of it's 71 feet per mile drop or how it has spent thousands of years carving away at the rock walls until it etched the canyons you see today. The guide also described the unpredictable flash floods that happen a dozen times a year and lop off large chunks of rocks.

We heard multiple stories about road reconstructions after flood waters and pinballing rocks shattered and swept away the roadway.

One year the road was completely destroyed and guests at the Zion Lodge were trapped for days without electricity (which the new drama series Revolution shows us can quickly lead to Appocolypse) until they could be exacuated. They were able to escape finally but couldn't retrieve their cars for weeks.

Later we finally found, after a week, mediocrity in Utah. This was one reason for us making near 80 all day up to Provo. We should have made 80, as this was the posted speed, but the van was reluctant.

Provo lies just outside of Salt Lake and is home to Brigham Young University. While the combination of societies two most enjoyable institutions-school and church-sounded like a recipe for a fun time, we instead went shopping. We also browsed two local community events, which was a less bountiful excursion. (see tomorrow for more on this, our IndiaFest experience)

                                                  Zion

Day 93 (Friday 9/21/12)- Zion National Park, UT

A couple of hours in a couple of days in Zion have been nice. We found, a little too late, about a morning shuttle tour. We booked our spot for the next day, filled up all available containers with the park's fresh mountain spring water and left to explore the surrounding area. 
The town of Hurricane holds nothing beyond a parking lot for our van. The next town over had a bit more to offer.

Brigham Young, the second prophet of the Mormon church, had a winter house in St. George, which we attempted to visit, but missed by minutes.

Disappointed, we bolstered ourselves with two treats. The first was visiting Deseret Industries (Utah's Goodwill doppelganger) and found the Mormon people, though stingy with museum hours, are generous in their charitable donations. We suitably scooped up some deals. Next we soothed ourselves with Double Doubles, shocked to find an In and Out in a state that seems California's antithesis. Why is In and Out not the the ideal business model for all of America?   A simple, quality product. Not overreaching in menu or expansion. Employees paid well enough to wear stupid looking hats. Ahh. California with no smog.



                              Brigham Young's Winter House

 

 

 

 

Zion