What is it about the west that draws us near, beckons to us from all corners and curves, calls us to come as if we were returning home to a place that is still unknown to us? Why do we always want to go there? Out west. Why do we always want to go out west?
For me, this time, the reason was Caitlyn. We're college friends who, amidst all of the other genuine but lofty "we'll keep in touch!" promises from friends of yore, have maintained a very close relationship. We haven't lived in the same city for more than a few months in the past 7 years, but we talk regularly, making daily phone calls to consult about family and men and jobs and the future and why we sometimes get stuck turning our own heavily toothed gears. She's my homegirl. After a year and a half into a two year stint doing food education on a reservation in northern Arizona, we decided it was time for me to finally come visit her in the desert. Ticket booked, loose ends tied up, I hopped on a plane on a Saturday afternoon, utterly thrilled about my ensuing adventure.
Caitlyn picked me up in Phoenix and it was on. It was well after dinnertime, but we found ourselves at a posh little place called The Gladly. As if the clean decor and rocking playlist weren't satisfying enough, the late night food and drinks were to die for.
Caitlyn picked me up in Phoenix and it was on. It was well after dinnertime, but we found ourselves at a posh little place called The Gladly. As if the clean decor and rocking playlist weren't satisfying enough, the late night food and drinks were to die for.
We enjoyed the delightful company of bar manager Brian Goodwin, who gave us some tips about where to go if we headed to the beach, which we wanted to do, and politely told us to avoid going to Tijuana, which we thought we wanted to do. The other bartender, equally smoking and entertaining, showed off his wicked eagle vest. We were sufficiently charmed by the guys - and the feeling was mutual; Brian covered all of our drinks and sent us on our way with a tip about where to get the best bloody mary in San Diego. Swoon. LIke, double swoon.
So we were off to California! With a couple of hours of sleep in the car at a rest stop, fueled by the purity of friendship and spontaneity, we headed west on our sandy adventure. We watched the sun rise over the desert, and I felt as if my insides might drip through the bottoms of my feet.
About 90 miles east of San Diego near Jacumba, CA we saw a little sign for Desert View Tower. Really, it was a very small, maybe even handmade sign. There was no question that we'd pull over, unsure of what was in store for us as we winded backwards on a lonely, dusty trail, replete with glorious, confusing kitchiness.
This Desert Tower is a special place. We were greeted by about a dozen mangy, loving dogs and the most wonderful blue sky and fresh air. The gift shop is heaven for lovers of all things weird, retro, useful, useless, and unique. It has everything, including an owner who's been living there for 12 years, watching people come and go from the not too distant highway, climbing on animal boulders and standing on a rickety viewing deck, soaking in the vastness of a desert paradise. He apologized for his generation's mistakes and urged our generation to revolt.
And so we revolted. All the way to the beach.
We rolled into San Diego just in time to get the deservedly recommended bloodies at The Green Flash, a cute restaurant that has maintained its family-owned appeal on Pacific Beach. After a little sustenance, we dipped our bodies in the ocean and the sand, slept in the sun, and reveled in the humility of being at the edge of the earth. We headed to Ocean Beach to meet an old friend of mine, just in time to drink gin and wheat grass as we watched the sun slip behind the watery horizon.
And so we revolted. All the way to the beach.
We rolled into San Diego just in time to get the deservedly recommended bloodies at The Green Flash, a cute restaurant that has maintained its family-owned appeal on Pacific Beach. After a little sustenance, we dipped our bodies in the ocean and the sand, slept in the sun, and reveled in the humility of being at the edge of the earth. We headed to Ocean Beach to meet an old friend of mine, just in time to drink gin and wheat grass as we watched the sun slip behind the watery horizon.
Feeling the lighthearted achievement of having seen so much by Sunday night, I got in touch with a friend who recently moved to San Diego and we made our way to her apartment for the night. Exhausted and thankful for a small couch and blankets on the floor, we slept soundly, and I dreamt of water. After a hot shower, fresh smoothie, and catching up the next morning, Caitlyn and I stepped out into the 80 degree day and hit the road for Los Angeles.
The first stop was East LA where Caitlyn's friend Ernesto Yerena and other artists have an amazing warehouse space. We got to see his collection of social work, including a special Red Bull label celebrating Latino culture, and watch him making some sweet block prints that were on their way to SF. He's incredibly talented with a wonderful spirit, and has impeccable taste in music. Plus I learned a new word: ganas. It means gumption, and seemed fitting.
The first stop was East LA where Caitlyn's friend Ernesto Yerena and other artists have an amazing warehouse space. We got to see his collection of social work, including a special Red Bull label celebrating Latino culture, and watch him making some sweet block prints that were on their way to SF. He's incredibly talented with a wonderful spirit, and has impeccable taste in music. Plus I learned a new word: ganas. It means gumption, and seemed fitting.
My cousin, Adrian, a very recent transplant to LA from Gloucester, MA, met us at the studio. Ernesto took us to the best taco restaurant in town, the Boyle Heights Guisados, and I treated him to lunch in exchange for a glamorous print. We said goodbye to Ernesto and headed on our way through LA, the city that welcomed us with open arms, the city that felt right, the city that somehow seemed like home to all of us.
I was getting messages from a childhood friend who'd moved to Los Angeles in October. We were giddy with excitement about seeing each other. Tyler offered his place to stay for anybody who wanted it, and we all slowed down a little bit. Adrian and Caitlyn and I walked around in the sunshine, strategizing the evening, and stopped to watch a hummingbird die. We felt a sadness for the bird but couldn't deny our own sense of life. I stood on a sidewalk with two of the very few people who I can hang with every single day, and decided that spontaneously landing in LA for a couple of days would be perfect.
I was getting messages from a childhood friend who'd moved to Los Angeles in October. We were giddy with excitement about seeing each other. Tyler offered his place to stay for anybody who wanted it, and we all slowed down a little bit. Adrian and Caitlyn and I walked around in the sunshine, strategizing the evening, and stopped to watch a hummingbird die. We felt a sadness for the bird but couldn't deny our own sense of life. I stood on a sidewalk with two of the very few people who I can hang with every single day, and decided that spontaneously landing in LA for a couple of days would be perfect.
And Los Angeles was just that for me. Perfect. Caitlyn skipped out to spend the night with another friend from college while Adrian and I went to El Segundo to see the place where he's staying and have sushi with his roommates. Jaws played on the restaurant television and we chuckled at the irony. Tyler got off of work around 11 and we headed to Silver Lake to meet at his adorable house. We had a reunion of childish proportions, full of squeals and old jokes and so many hugs. He and his girlfriend Sarah took us to a cool spot for some drinks and we stayed up until 5 doing all the things that old and new friends like to do together. Tyler and Adrian drew pictures and I wrote poems on them and we all cuddled with the best dog in the world and life felt gloriously possible.
I woke up feeling fresh and in love with Hollywood, especially because I was seeing the Hollywood that Hollywood doesn't show you. Tuesday morning was dedicated to a leisurely and delectable Caribbean breakfast at Cha Cha Cha, followed by the laziest of lovely days at Venice Beach. Caitlyn saw another friend while Adrian and I drove to Long Beach for mouth watering crepes with Dana, a friend I used to know in Philly. Honestly, every little city within LA has such a cool flavor. I'm glad I saw what I saw, and I want to see more. The day was warm and overcast and the beach was empty and there was music on the boardwalk and Santa Monica seemed like heaven and it was one of those days that made me wonder how people get to where they are, how they find the things that are good, how I was so lucky to be there.
I woke up feeling fresh and in love with Hollywood, especially because I was seeing the Hollywood that Hollywood doesn't show you. Tuesday morning was dedicated to a leisurely and delectable Caribbean breakfast at Cha Cha Cha, followed by the laziest of lovely days at Venice Beach. Caitlyn saw another friend while Adrian and I drove to Long Beach for mouth watering crepes with Dana, a friend I used to know in Philly. Honestly, every little city within LA has such a cool flavor. I'm glad I saw what I saw, and I want to see more. The day was warm and overcast and the beach was empty and there was music on the boardwalk and Santa Monica seemed like heaven and it was one of those days that made me wonder how people get to where they are, how they find the things that are good, how I was so lucky to be there.
Waking up on Wednesday was bittersweet. Adrian was already back in El Segundo and I knew that saying goodbye to Tyler would be equally as painful. Caitlyn and I had aspirations of Joshua Tree, but instead we agreed that Griffith Park would be better, if only because it would allow us more time with Tyler and Sarah. So we hiked to the top of Los Angeles and looked at the city below like angels ourselves. We soaked it in like poor twenty-somethings with a choking thirst for love and adventure and a false sense of power, for lasting connections with people we've known and crave to know more. We soaked it in like angels.
My last full day on the west was spent driving from LA to Vegas via the Mojave. A big part of my motivation to visit Caitlyn was that I'd experienced many climates in my life, but never the desert. I wanted to go somewhere big and open and old and empty and dense and bright and dry and warm. The desert was that place. When we pulled off of the highway and tucked in among the bushes and sand, I took deep breaths, full of the clear air and peaceful longing that can only be felt in a place much bigger than oneself. The sun beat down behind us while the moon sneaked above, and I couldn't help feeling that it was all coming together. Whatever it was, it all felt together.
We rolled into Las Vegas after dark, marveling in fascination and terror at everything the city had to offer. We got a great deal on a hotel on the strip and had just enough time to drop our things and change our clothes before heading the New York, New York casino to see a Cirque du Soleil show for which my buddy back home scored us free tickets. Zumanity is meant to entice the senses, and it did just that. As if the acrobatics and dancing weren't sensual enough, every move was designed to mimic sex. Sex in a fish bowl between two girls, sex in a bathtub, sex alone from tall ropes, it was all sex. And it was good. Like, really good. I don't know what the rest of their shows are like, but I am a Cirque du Soleil believer. Just be prepared to get uncomfortably turned on.
We left the casino feeling tired and out of it, succumbing to the call of our hotel beds. Luckily for us, we were stopped on the street by a number of Vegas kids who offered and delivered a good time. Riding in a limo, scaling fences, a large man on ecstacy in a cold water bath, propositions to go into the bathroom of the Venetian, it was all there. We saw Vegas the way it should be seen, with sore feet and eyes half open. I lost $40 playing black jack and sank into the luxury of blackout curtains and feather pillows.
It rained on Thursday, my last day. Rain in the desert is good luck. I don't know if I was giving it or getting it, but goodness abounded as Cailtyn and I traveled through the rocks and mountains and blooming cacti of Nevada and Arizona. We listened to Phantogram, John Maus, and Grimes. The music echoed through the gray vastness of the never ending landscape, a week of adventures and memories and the oozing pangs of newness written in the lines of my hands.
We arrived in Flagstaff with enough time to get huge cups of chai and visit Caitlyn's friend Alma for one last glass of wine. Alma is an amazing artist who let me try on an amazingly beautiful native necklace. It was gorgeous and felt grounding, something I probably needed before taking flight. I dumped some postcards into a mailbox and got yummy Thai takeout on my way to a shuttle that would take me to the Phoenix airport. Caitlyn and I hugged, thankful for the rushed goodbye. Lingering would have made it harder, and the end of the trip didn't need to be any less forward moving than the rest of it.
We arrived in Flagstaff with enough time to get huge cups of chai and visit Caitlyn's friend Alma for one last glass of wine. Alma is an amazing artist who let me try on an amazingly beautiful native necklace. It was gorgeous and felt grounding, something I probably needed before taking flight. I dumped some postcards into a mailbox and got yummy Thai takeout on my way to a shuttle that would take me to the Phoenix airport. Caitlyn and I hugged, thankful for the rushed goodbye. Lingering would have made it harder, and the end of the trip didn't need to be any less forward moving than the rest of it.
We hugged, I gathered my things, headed for the shuttle, and gave one last wave to my friend, my travel partner, my fellow heroine. Our story as friends and individuals is still being written and I am honored to be on the same pages as Caitlyn. Next We made plans for next time, because we know that there will always more and more and more. Next time we'll meet in LA, next time we'll spend more time at the beach, next time we'll see the friends who we didn't have time to see.
Next time we'll revel in the strange, comfortable beauty of knowing even less about the world.
Next time we'll revel in the strange, comfortable beauty of knowing even less about the world.
