School's out for summer...

Or, more accurately, vacation is out.  Today is my last day of road trippin’.  I am heading home.  I may stop at the Hoover Dam or I may decide that what is most important to me in this world is putting on flannel pajamas, ordering Thai food and reading in my bed. A bed that does not need to be inflated. A bed with covers that do not in any way shape or form suggest caterpillar cacoons or mummy sarcophagi. 

You see, driving from the Golden Spike National Historic Site to Zion National Park yesterday, it hit me.  Road weariness.  According to the directions I printed up for this trip I had 70 hours worth of driving planned for this 10 day excursion through just a small part of America.  If you add in the amount of time driving when in the parks it pretty much averages 9-10 hours a day.  I also stop to get gas, pee, and take photos of signs along the road.  In fact I would say about a quarter of my photos have been taken from inside the car.  I am a master of the photograph while driving technique.  I consider the wrist trap to be the greatest accessory of all time.

So, I propose that on my next trip (Face the Nation, 2012) I take a little more time getting around.  Less of a mad dash through states with more livestock than people.  Visits with friends nestled in amongst all the sightseeing. 

Oh the sites I have seen.  The wildflowers of Big Horn National Forest.  The formations in the Lehmann Caves.  Bison, everywhere.  An old west shootout.  A mine.  A thousand historical markers dedicated to Mormons and their early settler fortitude.  Historical markers dedicated to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid and their outlaw fortitude.  Then there is the smell of the pine forests in Colorado, or Zion after a rain. 

So this is where I leave you I guess.  A few more photos posted from the road and this summer will come to a close.  I will be heading back to work in a couple of weeks.  By tomorrow all my gear will be packed away in my closet and it will seem as though this trip happened years ago.  Just as the Hong Kong/Bali/Hawaii trip does.  The summer itself will feel both endless and non-existent.  Luckily I have about 3000 photos to prove I was there.

Let's Catch Up, Shall We?

Well, mom, I went a whole day without updating my blog.  Were you worried?  That’s what I thought.  What about the rest of you?  Did you miss me terribly while imagining some poor tragic end to the girl with the devilish grin and anachronistic braid? 

Now that I think of it, I might be a few days behind on the good old blog.  What have I been up to?  Gadding about the American West of course.  I have covered a couple of national parks, a national monument, an historic center, and toyed with the idea of going to a rodeo.  However I got very swept up in the audio book version of The Hunger Games so the rodeo idea never really had a chance.

Did you know that Devils Tower was the very first national monument?  In addition, it is terribly controversial because it is (and has been for generations) a sacred Native American heritage site that we callous white folk like to climb for sport.  To say there is tension over the issue is an understatement.  Much of the visitors center is dedicated to a discussion of this topic.  There are full written plans regarding the climb.  There have been court cases over separation of church and state about the climb.  Kind of fascinating really.  Outside of the turmoil there is something that is easy to overlook.  The monument itself.  Not literally as it is huge and can be seen from miles away.  What I mean is a bit more intangible than that.  Between the groups of loud children, German tourists, and your own need to get the perfect photo of the phallic phenom it is hard to get a quiet moment to just look at it.  If you ever go you should try to do just that. Try to find moment of silence to listen to nothing but the sound of the blood rushing through your ears. 

Then it was off to Cody, Wyoming to the Buffalo Bill Historic Center.  It has also been called “the Cowboy Smithsonian” without much exaggeration.  I hadn’t known much about good old Mr. Bill before going.  I mostly went because it was on the way and I like shiny bits of randomness so a museum dedicated to the P.T. Barnum of Westerns sounded right up my alley.  It was far more interesting that I could have imagined and I now have another subject to add to my reading list – W.F. “Buffalo Bill” Cody. 

The next day was spent (in its entirety) at Yellowstone.  I had blocked out the whole day for Yellowstone and it wasn’t nearly enough.  I couldn’t even cover half the park and I am pretty well practiced at this whole national park thing now.  I finally got to see some big horn sheep, and of course there were more bison.  As is becoming a bit of a routine I drove in from the frozen alpine tundra side bundled up to my chin in multiple jackets and by midafternoon was working on a brilliant sunburn and wishing I hadn’t left my waterbottle in the car.  I toured the geysers for about three hours on foot.  I am now sufficiently geysered out but did have the great good fortune of seeing two massive ones go off (Old Faithful and Beehive) as well as ominous bubblings from a few of the smaller ones.  I also managed to get to the Grand Prismatic Pool.  I wasn’t about to leave the park without seeing it.  From aerial views you think you are looking at some scientific experiment gone horribly wrong or a photoshop project that left realism at the door.  You have never seen such vivid colors occur in nature before.  From ground level it isn’t quite as breathtaking as you are fighting a cloud of hydrothermal by-product gas to even see the pool.  But it is still really cool and the boardwalk system they have set up around all of the geysers and pools are a fun change from asphalt trails.

Grand Teton was the last (new) park of the week, and of the trip in fact.  Tomorrow I will go to Zion but I have been there once before so it doesn’t really count in my quest to see all of the national parks.  Grand Teton is gorgeous.  It is one of those rare parks that doesn’t really have a gimmick other than it’s own beauty.  It is Helen of Troy and beauty is enough.  Glacier lakes that are as clear as they are cold.  A mountain range with no foothills to dull its steep ascension.  Wildflower meadows with herds of grazing elk and bison.  No there are no caves, no eruptions, no lava flows to check out.  This park asks nothing more of you than that you sit back, relax, and just breathe.  Seven hours was not enough to see the whole thing but I did hit most of the highlights.  There was the most expensive lodge in the national parks system, the summit of Signal Mountain, and one of the most well designed exhibits I have seen in a national park – the Native American art exhibit at the Colter Bay Visitors Center. 

This post is short on sass and for that I am sorry, but I must admit I am getting a little weary.  I’ve covered a lot of ground on this trip so far (almost 2600 miles) and I am starting to tire of the road.  For this summer anyway.  Next summer there will be no international travel for me – just thousands of miles across the USA. So, until tomorrow, or next year, whatever the case may be…

A Day Without a National Park

Okay, so I went to a national monument so that counts for half a point.  Maybe ¾  of a point since it featured Teddy Roosevelt, the man who gave the NPS the blessing of the federal government.

Today I dallied.  I slept in.  I updated my blog at a leisurely pace.  I checked out of the Bullock at 1020am.  Scandalous.  I lollygagged all over town.  Then it was time to get down to business.  A bus tour of town and a trip up to Mt. Moriah Cemetery to see Wild Bill’s and Calamity Jane’s graves was the first order of business.  God bless the bus driver.  He tried so very hard to get me to interact with him/the group. So very very hard.  In appreciation for his efforts I only visibly rolled my eyes at him once. 

Here is the thing about Wild Bill and Calamity Jane.  There is no evidence that they were ever a couple.  Most historians say they barely knew each other.  They just happened to arrive in Deadwood on the same wagon train.  After his death, Calamity saw a golden opportunity for a little self-promotion and Wild West lore was born.  In fact, the two are so tied together now in the popular imagination that when she died many years later, they buried her next to him.  Which is just one of the many little pieces of trivia about Wild Bill’s final resting place.  His body has also been moved once, and they have had to replace the headstone/statue at his grave at least twice due to vandalism.  It is now fenced off.  It is also littered with cards and coins.  Gamblers leave money for good luck which is funny because if the series Deadwood is near factual on this particular account, he wasn’t much of a card player.  I left a quarter because it seemed more appropriate than flowers.

After the tour it was time to play some slots.  You see, the town of Deadwood is Vegas for the cowboys with Harley’s set.  The façade of the town is completely restored Victorian architecture and the first floor of every store front on Main St. is either a saloon, gambling hall, or souvenir shop.  The upper stories are restaurants.  There is memorabilia on the walls of every bar, to the point that the No. 10 Saloon bills itself as the “Only museum in the world with a bar”.  Even Kevin Costner has a place here.  In fact he owns a bus tour company.  Here is why the idea that the most lawless town in the west has become one big casino shouldn’t make you sad – gambling money is the only thing that saved the town.  And it always kind of was a casino, they just look fancier now.  You see back in the early days of Deadwood there were (and I could be misremembering, but this is close) 53 gambling halls and 35 saloons in town.  Town is about 3 blocks long.   At one very early point there  were about 200 men in town and 16 women.  Five of the women were married, the others were “soiled doves”.  The last house of ill repute closed in Deadwood in 1980.  It is now a souvenir shop.

I made my way to the Gem (now a part of the Mineral Palace) and put my dollar in the penny slot video poker machine and played for about 15 minutes.  I took my voucher for $5.01 to the cashier, collected my winnings and quit while I was ahead.  Upstairs for a little buffalo stew and then it was time to head on out. .to see a mountain about some heads. 

It was Rushmore time.  Quick – who can tell me which four presidents are on Rushmore?  Well, two are super easy no brainers.  Washington and Lincoln.  Of course they are on a National Monument.  Not including them would be like leaving Ricky Martin of a Menudo monument.  The other two?  Come on…you guys know this.  Jefferson and Teddy R.  Jefferson was kind of the DaVinci of American presidents, so I guess it is cool he slid right on in.  Teddy?  Well, he was friends with the sculptor which put him over the edge in the popularity pool, kind of the Miss Congeniality of Rushmore.  I personally think he deserves it.  Again, he gave the greenlight to the National Parks.  Who do you think manages Mt. Rushmore?  If you said the Bureau of Land Management stop reading this blog right now.

At Mt. Rushmore you can see the mountain as you drive up.  You can walk to the “grand terrace” and see it from a middle distance, and if you take a pretty simple hike you can get a photo right up their noses.  I chose d) all of the above.

That was my last official sightseeing event in South Dakota.  Next up is Wyoming.  Now, I have previously stated that Utah is the most beautiful state.  The state that I would drive through every summer if time, space, and cash allowed.  Utah is the hot boy with the motorcycle in high school.  South Dakota is the boy next door: less flashy, but aesthetically pleasing once you take the time to look.  I suggest you all take the time to look.

Menonites, mullets and missiles! Oh, my!

Okay, so the Mennonites, referred to above were from yesterday’s national park not today’s but I needed another M.  Plus the devotee in question was a 5 year old in a modest bonnet and pigtails rocking some killer shades so I had to give her a shout out somewhere. 

Today was a glorious day.  Why?  Was it due to the closeness of last night’s campsite to my first destination of the day?  Was it due to all of the Timothy Olyphant daydreams I have had since booking a night in Deadwood?  Was it due to getting to check off two national parks from my list in one day?  Nope.  It was because I only had to drive in one state today.  ONE!  I think I even put less than 300 miles on the car today.  Inconceivable!  (And yes, all of those other things did add to the good day.)

I covered Badlands and Wind Cave National Parks today and did something I haven’t gotten to do much of on this trip – got out of the car and walked around.  Most of the other parks have been “drive around me” parks or had really long trails that just did not fit into my schedule.  Today’s parks were short and sweet visits to the land of erosion.  The Badlands look as though someone tried to imagine what was missing from the Grand Canyon and then sculpted it out of a gravel pile.  You feel like if you touch the formations they will just fall apart and blow away.  The truth is, though you can’t break them on your own, they are eroding at an alarming rate.  While nearby Mt. Rushmore erodes 1/10 inch every 1,000 years, the US Geological Survey marker sunk in the 1950’s had to be replaced because the rock it was in had eroded to the point that it had sunk a foot.  One foot in 50-ish years is pretty crazy.  The flip side of my day was cave dwelling.  Where Lehmann Caves in Great Basin was “decorated” all over with formations to the point you couldn’t really see the cave walls, the Wind Cave is virtually bare.  It is Pocahontas to Great Basin’s Marie Antoinette. 

I do feel a bit sorry for Badlands.  You see I shortchanged that park greatly and I really should visit it again someday.  You see, I found out the Minuteman Missile Silo was just next door and so I had to go see it.  Do I need to explain why?  It has missile in the title for goodness sake.  Missile!

There was also a lot of wildlife in my day today.  Between Wind Cave, a prairie dog themed souvenir shack just outside Badlands,  and Custer State Park there were an awful lot of animals in my day today.  I fed some prairie dogs, watched bison lounging in a picnic pavilion and scared the bejesus out of an antelope and her baby I have learned how to spot an animal in the wild.  It is the same concept as finding a fresh kill in the Serengeti.  Just look for the circling buzzards and go where they go.  When in a national park with no real rock formations anytime a person has pulled over  to the side of the road it is usually due to a big game sighting. 

Crazy Horse Memorial was my last non-Deadwood stop of the day and it was very much worth the time.  The four dollars for the bus ride from the visitors center to the base of the statue was money well spent even if the bus driver did tell the most God awful jokes.  There was even a mountain goat sighting .  The bus driver pulled over and told us where to look.  You would think that the 8 military men in BDUs would have been able to figure that out themselves but noooo. 

Now I am currently typing this as I lie in bed, ready for a good night’s sleep that won’t end at 5am.  It’s been a long day.  I am sleeping in a room that is quite possibly haunted.  I am halfway through my trip.  I have caught up on my journaling.  There is no reason in the world that I shouldn’t be sleeping right now.

And so I will leave you with this one final image:  Driving through Custer State Park…on a Harley…portly man…silver mullet waving in the wind…sunlight glinting off his un-helmeted head…the American Dream.

Rocky Mountan High

After an all too brief nap at the oh so luxurious Days Inn of Silverthorne (4 hours is too few to call an actual night’s sleep) I was off to Rocky Mountain National Park.  I was in a bit of a mood already for the day thinking that I was about 15 minutes behind schedule and after arriving at the hotel a good three hours late I was getting tired of being behind.  This is how I inadvertently watched the sunrise.  You see, I wasn’t three hours late to my hotel.  I was two hours late.  It was just that some jokester had decided to set the clock in my room ahead an extra hour.  It is unfair to mess with the clocks in hotels.  Either a guest is tired when checking in and will wearily just accept it and dock themselves the time to sleep OR a guest is there for a little illicit behavior and will rush.  Either way it is definitely unsportsmanlike behavior.

How did I find out what time it actually was?  Not from the radio – I was listening to a little historical chick lit book on tape with some bodice ripping undertones.  From my phone?  Nope – set to manual reset, no instant updates for me.  Luddite.  I found out the good old fashioned way.  While standing outside the Visitor Center shooting dagger looks at the staff inside who had failed to open the center on time (by my watch) a volunteer finally came over and set me on the right path.  At this point I decided to accept the loss of an hour of sleep time and look at it as an added half hour of cushion time to eat breakfast and read the guidebook entry on the park.  “Wait, that math doesn’t quite…oh, you were waiting outside the visitor center for an half hour before someone filled you in…”  Yup.

The park is gorgeous and has a few special points of interest to National Park trivia dorks.  Or American road trip dorks.  1) It has the highest continuous paved highway in the US (or possibly the world) running through its alpine tundra section. Over 12,000 feet up.  2) One of its visitor centers (there are 5 or so in the park) is the highest one in the National Park system.  It is called The Island in the Clouds and it bests the House of the Sun (at Haleakala) by over a 1,000 feet.  3) The water pipes at Island in the Clouds freeze over during winter.  Which lasts apparently until July as the pipes were still frozen yesterday necessitating use of drafty backwoods outhouse style toilet across the parking lot. 

The park is really beautiful and it was fun to trek across the top of a snowbank and look at the barely exposed signs at your feet.  Standing on top of 3 feet of snow near the top of a mountain is not a bad way to spend the morning in the middle of June.  Much more delightful than the same feat in February when it would just be depressing. 

After I had my fill of snow, mountains, and sheep warnings (but no sightings) it was time to head out.  I managed to squeeze in a little visit to the hotel where Stephen King wrote The Shining.  It is not that I am a fan of that book per se but when you are faced with the opportunity to touch a piece of pop culture history like that I find it almost impossible to resist.  And really, I had 8 more hours of driving ahead of me, let me have a little creepy thrill.

Once I left Colorado behind it was nothing but miles of miles of nothing but miles and miles of Wyoming and South Dakota.  Like Texas but with more greenery.  I had about 500 miles of driving to do between Rocky Mountain and Interior, South Dakota and I did 75 the whole way.  What surprised me is that during the drive I barely saw a town or another car.  How can states so big have so few people?

I made it to my campsite with 12 minutes to spare.  Right on time.

[ed. note - I am behind schedule for the morning (of course) so I am not re-reading this.  If I find it terrible tonight I will actually take the time to edit it properly.  Or I will erase it and we will all pretend there was no post.]

A Lot of Ground To Cover

Today was a failure of calculation from tip to toes.  I had a longer drive then anticipated from my campsite to the park, the park took an extra half hour, and most embarrassingly of all, I had forgotten that the evening’s accommodations were two time zones over leading to a VERY late check in and a short night’s rest.  I will say that in this particular instance sloth has done me a great service.  My early plan (way back in March) was to find a campsite on the fly when I got to my final destination of the day.  However, night time campsite hunting is more stressful than fun so I caved and got a cheap rate on a Days Inn from Expedia, God bless them.  At 1am when I pulled in I decided it was the best decision I will have made this entire trip.  And that is the brief view of my itinerary for the second day of my road trip.  How’s about a little more detail?

The cynical view is thus: all I did today was see a park and drive for hours.  Eleven hours to be exact.  Twelve if you count the driving within the park.  However, I am on vacation and while on vacation I try very hard not to take the cynical view.  I like to think of this as a step toward future mental health.  Preventative positive thinking, or at least practice for how to appear more chipper and well-adjusted than I actually am.  Either way, the glossy view is: I got up at an appropriately early time, broke camp a half hour ahead of schedule, saw a really cool cave (did not humiliate park ranger or act overly rude), and drove through three really beautiful states.  I really can’t say enough good things about Utah.  Considering the fact that it is full of religious people you know it much be gorgeous or else I would just write off the whole state.

                I have a whole handful of random and colorful tidbits, but I am trying hard not to start this day in a time deficit so I will get to those later.  For now I will just give you one little piece of Lexi-style randomness.  Yesterday was the first day of summer (June 21^st) and I spent it in the hottest spot in North America.  Today I visited another type of desert (or possibly just a higher elevation piece of the same one).  While here I made what I will call officially the first snowball of summer.  Which I threw aimed at a tree and let fly with childish delight.  I missed. 

So many ways this could go...

Bless me travel gods, for I have sinned.  It has been three weeks since my last proper blog post and in that time I have taken the name of travel in vain, had impure thoughts about Antarctica, and acted in a slothful manner as regards packing and planning. 

In short, before setting off this morning I should have known there was going to have to be some sort of sacrifice made in order to get things straight between us.  That is where Death Valley comes in. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t go to Death Valley as a form of penance.   I have always wanted to go to Death Valley.  I went to Clemson after all.  It is practically a requirement that at some point in your life you go to our stadium’s namesake and take a photo with the sign.  Plus, Death Valley is a national park and as most of you know by now, I have a thing for NPs.  And it has such a cute name. 

Before anyone asks, no I did not go on any hikes.  I will barely hike in Griffith Park, a place with the sweet lazy word park right there in the title.  Did you really think I would be dumb enough to hike in a place with death in the power position? 

I have not so much a ritual as a code of conduct when it comes to national parks.  Once I pass the sign (and almost always I will stop for a picture), I turn off the radio, roll down the windows, and barely speed.  Most NPs have a really low speed limit but it is there so that you can drive slowly while taking in the view.  Plus in a lot of national parks you should drive slowly to avoid wildlife such as deer and campers.  I started out in good faith with DV.  Two hours in I cracked and rolled up the windows for some AC time.  I could not bring myself to speed though.  Even going the speed limit of 60 (unheard of for the main thoroughfare of a national park) seemed exhausting.

What I realized around hour three in the park was that it had pretty much sapped my will to live.  The sand dunes were lovely.  The salt flats were salty.  You can bet your booty I made it to the lowest elevation in North America. What I really truly wanted was to get out.  The guide books warn you right up front that you should take maps with a grain of salt.  The information is correct, it is just that nothing is as close as it seems.  When I caved and turned on the AC I had just finally made it ¾ of the way across the skinny part of the park and was about to head south for a 17 mile detour.  On the map the skinny part is about two inches across.  The long part is six or seven.  At this point I was grateful for three things:  1) that my AC is in glorious working order, 2) that I had filled up with gas at the last service station [this is always nice when encountering signs that say ‘next services 67 miles (or 72 miles, or 167 miles – all signs I have seen in the last 24 hours)], and 3) that I am in a car at all.  There are signs everywhere about the original Death Valley 49s -poor bastards who had tried to find a shortcut through DV to the gold fields of California.  There is a marker where the less brazen gave up and headed north.  There is a marker where those who continued on burned their wagons and proceeded on foot.   I left the park about an hour and a half after that and have never been so happy in my life as when I saw the Nevada state line sign.  Bullet holes and all.

When I finally got to the campground I managed to set up my tent in under ten minutes (a personal best and long cry from last year’s initial attempt which took an hour), and tucked myself in next to my pepper spray shortly afterward.  I also decided that next year I will not be spending high noon on the first day of summer in the hottest point in all of North America. 

Dusting off the tent and such...

Got a very large shock last night when I finally looked at my calendar - I leave for part two of Operation Hiatus on Tuesday.  What does that mean?  It is time to pack.  Again.  So for about 20 whole minutes today I went through my camping gear and my cupboards to take stock of my resources.  I plan on devoting almost as much grievous labor to my endeavors tomorrow as I do a weather.com search to forecast the overnight temperatures of the Dakotas and points in-between.  The real flurry of packing activity should take place sometime between Sunday evening and Monday afternoon.  Pictures may be posted at some point.  

Sadly, by the time of my departure one of my fabulous readers will be on her own adventure.  Have fun in Africa Michelle!  (Hey mom, look who is going farther away than me.)

And if anyone gets bored and needs a nice fun blog to follow between my adventures, my friend Gina has started one called "What's for lunch today?"  It is fun and quick and can be found at rphilangee.blogspot.com

Talk to you all soon.

xoxo  

Crawling out from under my rock.

Hello all,

In case you were wondering (which I'm pretty sure no one was as you all have Facebook and NO ONE made numerous frantic calls to make sure I landed safely) I did make it home from Hawaii in one piece.  Special shout-outs to Chris and Amy for braving LAX on a Thursday evening in order to pick me up.  In a truck no less.  Also, Michelle and Dan get a major props for letting me park at their place for a month and then having my car washed for me.  They are definitely more thoughtful than I am.

Here is the good news - I found my address book today so I can actually mail out souvenirs to those of you I wish to bestow presents upon.  That is unless you live in LA in which case I will deliver them eventually as I already paid for the presents and am not going to pay to ship them a quarter mile.  Thrifty midwestern values and all.  Family - I have no idea if I will be shipping your prezzies or sweet talking mom into taking them home with her after her visit next week.

I've gotten questions about my travel and I've managed to muddle my way through answers.  Truthfully I am still trying to get my bearings on where I am and what time zone I'm operating in.  Maybe in a week I will have my head on straight and can give more appropriate answers to "What was your favorite part?".  Maybe.  I have downloaded all of my pictures to snapfish and once I delete some of the more redundant and out of focus pictures I will email a link.  I hope you all got a feel for the trip as we went along from the blog and the photos.  It definitely felt like I had company along the way.  Sometimes I even did (Jami, you were a driving rock star).

This post concludes the Pacific Rim adventure.  I head out on a road trip to South Dakota in a couple of weeks and I'm not sure if there will be blogging then or not.  If there is, I hope you will all continue to indulge me.

One last thing, next summer my goal is a road trip around the US to visit all of my friends and family that I haven't seen in awhile/don't see enough.  I'm hoping to stop in Seattle, NY, Washington, South Carolina, and Missouri.  Let me know if you have any ideas for additional stops.

xoxo
Your Favorite Traveler

A three alarm morning is nothing like a three alarm fire...

Though sometimes those two things do coincide.  When getting up early to greet the sun at a national park here are some things to know:  what time the sun rises (do not trust weather.com, it is a site full of lies), where the 24 hour coffee place is on the way to the summit, how afraid your driver is of fire. 

What was that last one again?  Odd but true: if your driver has a deep seeded fear of fire your entire morning may become derailed.  Here is how:  you are driving in the pitch black of the morning having gotten up at an ungodly hour, lets say 4am (having slept through 2 alarms completely and lied to yourself about the third).  You see an interesting cloud formation in the valley.  Your driver comments on how pretty it is and wonders what the glow at it's base could be.  You gain higher ground and confirm that it is in fact a small fire.  Your driver immediately begins to question if you should turn around and go home so that you don't get stranded on the mountain.  The mountain is still 18 miles away. 

Here is my general rule of thumb;  I got up before Jesus today, I am going up the damn mountain. 

At this point it is quite helpful to have a background in hostage negotiation or dealing with actors.  The two situations are really more alike then you may think.

Step one: 

Assessing level of threat/fear - joke "I had no idea you were so afraid of fire."  Hope for bravado! Bravado means they don't want to admit fear and will work harder to prove lack of fear.  Bravado is your friend, until it storms back into it's trailer.  What do I get?  Admission.  Admitting fear means there is not enough reverse psychology in the world to make a person do something.  Admission is NOT your friend. 

Step two: 

Finding out what they want.  Pretty simple - to go back home.  This is in direct opposition to what you want so you must press on. 

Step three:

Logic.  This step gets you nowhere but it has to be taken.  It's like turning your computer off and then on after it eats your term paper.  It isn't going to fix anything but before you throw it through the window and call the IT Crowd you have to at least try. 

Step four: 

Reassurance.  As you have all probably guessed, this one is not my best subject.  When asked to google "fire" and "Maui" I roll my eyes.  It's dark but I'm pretty sure the sentiment carries the two feet across the car.  I google.  As we are climbing a mountain my reception is patchy.  No giant headlines about Maui going up in flames.  Still the fear rages unabated.

Step five: 

Miraculous resolution!  A car pulls up behind us to also go to the summit.  This makes the world right once again!  Surely if the fire were bad no one else would try to go up. The fear is quashed.  We forge ahead on our merry way. 

Words can't really describe how gorgeous it was at the summit.  There was a throng of pajama-ed and slippered tourists wrapped in beach towels waiting at the edge when we got there.  It was oddly still.  As the sun climbed higher so did the chatter, but somehow it was solemn.  When the orange glow cracked the clouds a park ranger did a Hawaiian chant as a welcome or thank you and officially wished us all a good day. Immediately afterward the crowd dispersed heading out to hot breakfasts or warm beds.

After getting stuck behind no fewer than five bicycling tours heading down the mountain we continued on our quest to conquer the Neighbor Islands.  Makawao is a tiny town not far from the B&B we are staying in.  It is full of little shops that open when they feel like it and sell the usual assortment of souvenir goods though they do so with character and on occasion panache.  There are three types of business here:  food service, clothes, art.  The crown jewel of the morning was watching the glass-blowers work.  A boy once told me I was terribly esoteric.  After chatting about glass-blowing for a half hour I am beginning to think he was right.  I assure you the clerk was impressed though.

The rest of the day had food and rainbows.  Detours to swing by local hangouts that were closed.  Finding the elusive golden sand (otherwise known as regular sand.  Generic.  Vanilla.  Sand).  Banyan trees and Edison films.  As an added bonus we visited the whaling town where Herman Melville used to go whoring.  And that is how you sight-see Lexi-style. 

Dear LA Apartment

I know you think I don’t love you anymore but I do.  I love the new yellow walls in the bathroom, and the burnished bronze fixtures. I know it was a little painful getting rid of the old stuff but you look so good now.  I love the shelf in the kitchen with that perfectly polished piece of plexi the boys in the shop cut for us.  Not to be too risqué, I love the bed most off all.  Plush.  Fluffy.  Sumptuous.  Bed.  I dream of your bed and the fact that I don’t have to share you with anyone.  I  can nestle in its comforting soft goods for days and no one will interrupt us.  On occasion bed and I even share a pint of ice cream.  Oh, your bed is the best. 

I am writing to you from Maui.  I am sharing a room with my friend Jami.  Don’t worry, we are just friends.  I’m not going to leave you.  Especially after having spent every waking hour with my friend for the last 4 days.  You know how much I love my privacy LA Ap, you know.  That is not to say that we aren’t having fun, but no cottage, no couch, no seat in a plane can compare with you.  I see you each time I close my eyes.  Blue walls, red couch, black framed photos, hardwood floors.  I hear you in those moments of quiet solitude when I am either alone, or my friend and I are in time out.  I think of exactly where I am going to put my new souvenirs when I get back to you.  Oh, LA Ap, I miss you.

But let’s not be maudlin or dwell on what is yet to come (3 more days until at last we reunite).  Let us discuss the good things in where we have been.  You’ve had some alone time to work on yourself.  The exterminator may have come.  Perhaps you’ve had a checkup from the apartment manager?  I’ve been places and seen things.  I have been on A LOT of airplanes.  Today I did both.  We left the Big Island at 7am and got to Maui at 9am.  Then there was a lot of driving to be done – we covered the entire eastern part of the island. A little under 10 hours of driving for Jami.  She always liked to drive (I blame her twin sister’s early commandeering of the family vehicle for this).  I figure she will let me know when she wants to rest.  We visited a red sand beach on our quest to see all 5 colors before we head back to O’ahu.  We visited Charles Lindbergh’s grave.  She drove one of the craziest roads in Hawai’i. We bought t-shirts.  It was a very full day.

Tomorrow we are getting up ridiculously early to go watch the sunrise from the top of the volcano/mountain at Haleakela National Park (Apartment, I love that you don’t judge me for my inability to spell).  I promise you this, when we are huddled in a car while wearing all of the clothes that we have brought with us on this trip to keep from freezing, I will be thinking of you.

Yours, always,

LO

Of lava, cool to the touch

Today was the day.  Today was the day this Midwesterner was going to see lava.  It was going to be epic.  I was going to see heat rising from orange ropes of liquid hot magma.  I would hear the hiss of the steam created when the lava met the sea.  At night, I would eat s’mores by the glow of the cooling seepage.  Not so much.

 I am here to tell you that even though the volcano is technically erupting the only observable surface activity at this moment is a smoking cinder cone and some kind of cool steam vents.  That is not to say that this leg of the trip has been a bust.  Oh contrare mon frair. Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park is awesome to its smoking core.  There are massive craters here (one of which is admittedly a dud) where you can see the edges of lava lakes.  There are hollow lava tubes you can explore Indiana Jones style.  You can hike to the end of the road, which is not actually where the road ends so much as where the road becomes buried under lava and is impassable by vehicle.  You can hike over a lot of the cooled lava which looks like giant welds over a lunar landscape. The view from the cliffs is pretty spectacular as well.  The park is worth the price of admission and worth the hassle of a flight from Honolulu.

Activities outside of the park today involved checking out the Mona Lau macadamia nut factory, a black sand beach and a waterfall.  The driveway to the factory is three miles long and takes you through a macadamia plantation.  Every few hundred feet there are little fun facts posted along the road classic Bryl Cream ad style.  You can also take a factory tour but it was closed for the day.  I felt cheated as this was as close as I would ever get to reenacting the key scenes of my favorite character from Willy Wonka – Veruca Salt.  Such is life.

Then it was off to a beach for a little more sand larceny and a turtle sighting.  Sand larceny you say? Fine, more like petty theft but larceny has such a dramatic ring to it.  While many places state you should “leave only footprints, take only memories (or photos or whatever)” I have yet to see such a sign in Hawai’i.  We did hear tell of such a sign implying a large fine for those apprehended in the act of relocating sand from the beach to an unspecified location.  However since that sign was never viewed by myself or my companion its existence remains hearsay.

The waterfall was lovely but a bit of a cheat as far as such things go.  This may sound odd coming from me, but I think waterfalls are something you have to earn.  You need to drive out of your way or hike a mile or solve pi to the 7 digit or something.  This waterfall, Rainbow Falls, required driving 2 minutes off a well-marked road to a parking lot and walking 15 feet.  Even the stairs to get to the top of the fall were  easy to navigate.  Such victories just feel hollow.  The pictures are nice though.

Laundry duty called us back to the lodge early tonight as we fly out to Maui tomorrow bright and early and really needed to wash yesterday’s adventure off our clothes before we packed.  Those of you paying special attention may notice I said Maui and not Kaua’i.  Slight change of plans. You see Maui is where the other national park is.

Victory or Death!

Jami and I headed to the Big Island today in search of volcanoes and adventure.  We found both.  We are just that good.

The airport was a little exercise in not slapping a customer service representative even though they really deserved it.  A couple changed tickets, seat reassignments, and plans to call the hotline and complain later and we were on our way.  The airport on the Big Island is tiny and not completely walled in. If anyone has ever been a mall in Florida or California it is a lot like that.

Once we had picked up our luggage and our car it was time to get the show on the road.  Volcanoes National Park get ready for trouble.  Trouble in the form of two Midwestern gals in a Scion.  One of the coolest things about this particular part of the trip is that I get to stay in lodging in the park.  Not just any lodging, military camp lodging.  Lodging that I wouldn’t normally have access to.  Also, this camp was used to house prisoners of war during WWII.  It is much nicer now.

Here is where the adventure kicks in:  it’s a little late in the day so we decide to save Volcanoes NP for tomorrow and head out on a little sightseeing/sand gathering mission.  This would almost lead to our doom.

Technically the road that leads to the places we want to go is not to be driven on by rental cars.  The map clearly says “Do not drive on this road”.  This should have been a clear clue to us not to go here.  However, we are both fairly stubborn in our own ways so we said screw it.  We passed an old wind farm, a new wind farm, the detritus of the old Pacific Missile Command, and finally got to the southernmost tip of the US.  Eat your heart out Florida.  The cliffs were steep and it was windy but also really gorgeous.  Phase one of the mission completed it was time to move on to the next step.

Normally I am not much of a hiker.  I have made attempts in the past.  Mostly when it involved boys.  I have already told Jami that she should feel honored I even attempted the hike I am about to describe considering I had nothing to gain.

As we parked at the trailhead we ran into a few people who had finished the hike.  They looked wiped out but assured us as we passed “it was worth it.” In all of my guidebooks the hike was described as long and undulating.  About halfway in Jami admitted her books called it treacherous.  The 2 ½ mile hike itself is actually no big deal.  Then you get to the payoff and you are done for.  At the end of the trail is a set of two adjacent coves.  The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is emerald sand.  To get to the sand you have to climb down into the coves. The most sand is in the big cove just off the trail.  The sand we collected was from the small cove down the grassy, rocky, steep side.  This is best done at low tide.  It was done by us as the tide was coming in.  At this point I will say only that both Jami and I survived the unintentional swim we took, and as a bonus my phone and camera also survived.  Jami’s did not.  We got the sand.  We also were a little delirious and a lot wet as we slogged the 2 ½ miles back to the car. 

But we both agreed, it was totally worth it.

Back to work, er, vacation...

Some of you may have noticed that I didn’t post anything yesterday.  Was I having computer issues.  Was I too busy?  Nope.  I took the day off.  Did you know you could do that on vacation?  Well, I am here to confirm you absolutely can.  After 3 weeks of constant sightseeing and moving about the Pacific Rim I pulled the covers over my head and slept til noon.  Then I went to the movies.  That was my entire day (except for a wee little run to a Destroyer).  I didn’t even take any photos.  It was a pretty excellent day altogether.

And today?  More of the same?  Uh uh.  Back to the business of travel.   I met up with a friend and took a little tour of the North Shore.  Now, I don’t know about the rest of you but my visions of the North Shore are based almost entirely upon the cheesey Nia Peeples movie North Shore.  Never heard of it? Shame on you it is a classic, 1987 style.  It is also a bit misleading.  For example, the movie takes place in the summer but the waves suck in the summer.  Wanna see a big wave here?  Come back in January.  However, this blog has never really concerned itself with the factual integrity of pop culture so let’s just move along shall we?

I had very strict orders today to go to the Dole Plantation.  I very well may have had to find a new place to stay for the rest of my time in Hawaii if I had failed in this directive.  Like a good girl I stopped by Dole, had my Dole whip (pineapple ice cream), toured the garden and taunted the fish.  I did not partake in the “Pick A Pearl” souvenir hustle though I was accosted by a few shills throughout the plantation.  Has everything turned into just another excuse to buy a cheap bracelet?  On the tourist circuit the answer is yes.

After the Plantation it was time to head someplace a little less commercial.  Less commercial but still featuring a cover charge – Waimea Park.  A little less than a mile into the park there is a pretty decent waterfall.  As I am a big fan of waterfalls I enjoyed this particular feature.  The fact that there were lifeguards at the base of the waterfall was an interesting new take on a classic.  There was also a rack of little kid life jackets.  I am sure they were available for rent.  Also in the park was this amazing Disney-style tree that was covered in wild orchids.  The way the orchids hung from the branches created these hiding spaces near the base. It was like the dry land version of the Kiss the Girls set from The Little Mermaid.  Of course I went in to explore.

There is a spot just north of Haleiwa where sea turtles hang out onshore.  They rather imaginatively refer to it as Turtle Beach, not to be confused with Turtle Bay which is the ritzy resort on the northernmost tip of the island.  The turtles look bored yet endlessly patient.  There were five partially buried in the cool sand at the edge of the beach, kept safe from tourist by a six foot perimeter denoted by what appeared to be very long jump ropes.  This is interesting for about three minutes and then you are good to go.  They are turtles.  Bored turtles.  Only so much entertainment can be mined from animals that appear to be judging you.

Have you ever heard about the infestation of pigs on O’ahu?  I hadn’t either. Today I get asked if I have seen them yet.  Nope.  Then, at dusk, as I am driving in the low light on the black top I see a small black object dart toward my car.  A suicidal pig.  A suicidal pig trying to run me off the road.  I much prefer the Bali beach cows if I am going to continue to have livestock run-ins on this trip.

I ended my day hoping to recapture some of the magic of the sunset in Kuta at Sunset Beach here on O’ahu.  Clouds conspired against me.  While I was denied the sun at sunset, I was not denied a certain kind of beauty.  The clouds looked lovely backlit.

Tomorrow it is time to jet off to the big island.  As Katie says, even in Hawaii I can't stay still for more than a coupld of days.

To Do and Do Not

Have you ever been to the Pearl Harbor memorial?  It is technically called the WWII Valor in the Pacific National Monument, but you know what I’m talking about.  It’s that sunken ship that is literally a water-filled tomb to over a thousand men that bleeds 2 gallons of oil every day.  It still holds 400,000 gallons within its massive bulk so it is pretty safe to say that unless ordered to be drained it will continue to bleed through our lifetimes and even those of our children and their children.  Unless a war even worse than the one that caused the monument turns the tides once again and there are no more generations to fight.  Why bring up such business?  Well I went to the memorial yesterday after landing here in good old Hawai’i.  Despite exhaustion and my bone deep cynicism I was touched.  I am not one to express emotions or feel an overwhelming sense of…anything, so when it does happen I feel it is something to share.  Just remember, good old Boris let us know when the Grinch’s heart grew 3 sizes.  Some things are just noteworthy.

To keep things somber and reflective we could continue with a discussion of the recent episodes of Glee, but let’s face it you didn’t come here for that.  You came to hear tales of adventure and romance.  Obviously you haven’t been paying attention.  The most you will get here is PG travel with a side of pop culture.  And away we go…

Today it came down to the age old struggle of whether or not to leave the house.   Yup, 3 weeks in and that is what it’s come to – the honeymoon is over.  What I truly wanted was to do nothing more than sit on my couch and watch Sex and the City.  That’s right Gina, I want what you got.  I did drag myself out of the house eventually and went to the oh-so-glamorous Aloha Swap Meet.  It happens at Aloha Stadium which once a year hosts the Pro Bowl and thrice a week hosts a dirt mall.  However, it is a well-publicized and respected dirt mall. I may have gotten a present for you Rachel.  Perhaps.

It was now time to start exploring the island like a big girl.  This is when I discovered the unifying theme of the Pacific Islands – Lexi getting lost.  There are road signs here.  They just don’t tell you the information you want to know.  When trying to get on the H3 from Aloha Stadium maps all look like it is a direct shot from the stadium to the freeway. What the maps fail to show and the signs fail to make clear is that at that exact point you have to go via the 78 which turns into the H3.  I like to call the search for the proper freeway “getting to know your surroundings”.  I feel it has a nicer ring than “groping for direction with annoyance bordering on homicidal rage”.  Were I in Bali I would merely pull over and converse with a local.  These conversations would range from a lovely interlude in broken English while sitting on a stoop with a Coke to ludicrous pantomime while pointing in front of you and saying the name of the town you wanted to go to in different tones and stresses until a spark of recognition took to light. 

Despite my rather poor sense of direction I did complete the preplanned itinerary for the day.  I just didn’t have time to stop very long at any place.  I can tell you this:  O’ahu is breathtaking, tiny, and the speed limits suck (25/35 in town, 45/50 highway).   Throughout my travels of the windward side of the island today the whimsy with which roads change names and maps gloss over facts was a recurring reminder that while I am in the USA, I am definitely not home. Grid system cities, I miss you.  Speeding, I miss you. Annie, my darling Hyundai, I miss you most of all. 

Mother, please don't take that last part personally.

Good Morning USA!

[ed. note: due to the glories of blogspot, while this post was written at about 11am yesterday I am only now able to post it.]

Miss me?  I missed you.  Excuse the cheeky tone but I’m about 30 hours into this day, have had 2 breakfasts, a lunch, a dinner, 3 flights and it is still not yet noon. Apparently if you are a smart ass long enough, and you work at it hard enough then the BS you spew becomes true.  I have in fact become a Time Lord.  Eat your heart out Dan.

Here is what I have to say for my adventures of the last 30 hours:  a) All the signs look the same in Bali, Taipei, Tokyo, and Honolulu airports,  b) The new Adele albums is awesome, c) the Taipei airport is the best of those listed above because it is the only one where I got free internet and could download the Adele album, d) there is nothing better, NOTHING, than an overnight flight where you are the only person in your row. 

A few days ago my friend Katie Carroll (who was supposed to be my travel companion for part of this trip but is in fact an incredible slacker and therefore is just now headed Asia way) asked for advice about Bali.  What was worth it, what wasn’t, etc.  So here is a primer for all who may be planning a visit, or not.

Balinese Etiquette:

1)      The car horn – The car horn (or bike, or big truck, what have you) is used often though never in anger.  In Bali it is used as a greeting and a gentle warning.  It says “Hello scooter. I see you and I am going to go around you so don’t make any sudden moves.”  It is a comfort and just a little heads up.  Brilliant in theory and mostly brilliant in practice.  Mostly?  There are a number of different sounds to horns from the comical to the thunderous.   When the Balinese equivalent of a mac truck blares its train-esque call at you the idea of a gentle warning to not move is pretty well blown as you have jumped a foot off the bike through a pothole.

2)      Never do anything in public with your left hand if you can help it.  They are thought to be unclean.  It has to do with this being a country devoid of toilet paper.

3)      Spitting on sidewalks is allowed, though people do try to spit in the grass instead.  Still the left hand is taboo.

4)      There are no such thing as “personal” questions in Bali.  A woman (me) can and will be asked repeatedly if she is married.  If the answer is no the subject will NOT be dropped.  Boyfriend?  No.  Why no boyfriend? Fight the urge to say something smartass.  They are not mocking you.  Or they are at least not mocking you on purpose.  Even when the group of teenagers on the beach (who followed up this line of questioning with asking me my age)  sang “30 30 30” at me in Indonesian they were not mocking me.  Per se.  Also, if you are seen eating with your left hand they will ask you to use your right hand.  Just so you know.

5)      If you are white they will tell you so.  Many times I was told I was white. They don’t know the fine distinction of the word pale. For the record, I am a tawny amber for my people.

6)      If you are white it is very likely that at random times people will ask to take pictures with you.  Go with it.  It is excellent practice for later in life stardom and dealing with paparazzi.  It is also good for the ego when you feel like an old unmarried left handed white lady.

There is much more to know about Bali of course, but you should really just go and find out for yourself.  Besides I’m sitting on a bench in Hawaii soaking up the sun so I really have better things to do just now.

xoxo

Moving right along

Today was moving day if you will.  For the last time I packed up all my gear (fun new combinations with every homestay), loaded Grohl, and headed off to points only imagined and vaguely located on a map. I was greatly cheered by the fact that I only had to go about a kilometer through Ubud. 

The plan was to take back roads to get to/bypass Denpasar and head over to Petitenget/Kerobokan.  The back roads were in part necessity – there are no main east-west roads except at the coast – and part being a big fat chicken.  You see, Denpasar is the central hub of Bali and “central hub” should be read as “potential for a ton of traffic and cops looking for blondies to harass”. As all of my plans with the intent to spare myself hassle go, this one too failed.  I like to think of these failures as character building.  Through the center of Denpasar I went. Wishing I had a better map. 

Was I pulled over? Nope.  Was there traffic? Oh yes.  Did I cause any accidents?  There were a couple of not great maneuvers on my part but no collisions or loss of life.  Horn honking only.  Do you remember that part in The American President where Annette Bening says she got stuck on Dupont Circle again?  Yeah, I understand how she feels.  Asia being largely colonized by most of Europe there exist in fits and spurts evidence of such colonization.  Case in point: traffic circles.  I hate them.   I especially hate them when I am trying very hard to balance really heavy bags on a moving vehicle and apparate through a lane of Balinese scooters, which can be 4 side by side-ish.   Two round-and-rounds and a Hail Mary later I was on my way in roughly the right direction.

After the adventure of driving through Denpasar it was not long before I reached Grohl’s final stop.  Now I would love to recount to you tales of a teary good-bye for my trustworthy and loyal friend.  For God’s sake Atreyu was inconsolable when Artax got stuck in the quicksand! Me? I hopped off, handed over the key and walked away like a 3 year old who has finished unwrapping her last birthday present.  I walked about 50 feet and decided to celebrate my sweet release from the pressure of driving and fear of discovery of my lack of license (did I forget to mention that part?). 

I saw a menu board for a salon down the street and had the best massage of my life.  If this woman had asked for the keys to my home I very possibly would have given them to her, had they not already been in Michelle’s possession back in LA for safekeeping.  I opted for something a little fancier than just a massage and got the massage and scrub.  That is how I found myself topless on a table having my boobs lightly rubbed by a pregnant Balinese woman.  She also did my underarms.  What is the appropriate thing to talk about at a time like this?  We chose taxis.    Afterwards my skin felt so good I still might have given her the keys.

I was about 10km from Kuta (the next stop on my island tour) at this point and was very toughly going to hoof it with all my bags.  Five minutes and 40 men asking if I wanted a taxi later I caved.  It was one of the better decisions I have ever made.  Traffic was terrible (going to Kuta after dropping of Grohl better idea than getting a taxi) and the ride took about 30 minutes which is about half the time it would have taken if I had walked, and only a third of the time it would have taken me to walk and get lost at least once.

Jenny, don’t judge, but the one and only reason that I went to Kuta was because I needed to pick up a guitar pin from the Hard Rock Café for a friend from work who collects them.  If not for this one piece of consumerism wild horses could not have brought me to Kuta.  I am very thankful for that overpriced piece of cheap metal alloy with thin enamel covering.  Without it I would not have sat on the beach for two hours as I watched the sunset.  I didn’t only watch the sunset.  I watched people too.  About 20 kids approached me during that time to take photos with me and practice their English.  Gina, these were kids after your own heart – when they heard I was from LA they giggled and started shrieking “Justin Beiber!”.  There was one main talker and he asked me to friend him on Facebook which I am going to do.  He is either going to cure cancer or stage a coup the likes of which we have never seen, but I want to see how it turns out.  For now he wants to study accounting and is very curious about the differences between America and Bali.

I’m sitting in a café using the free wifi and having my last Indonesian meal for a good long while.  The guidebooks say Kuta is one long traffic jam set against the sounds of constant building.  As I watch the one-way traffic saunter by and listen to the sounds of welding next door I have to agree with the books.  But like much of Bali, when viewed with a relaxed eye it is in its own way beautiful.