Our Lucky Day

Where to begin?

Let me start by saying a couple of things:

1) It's hard to find time to write and upload photos when there is so much to see and do. Sorry, we'll try to do better.

2) I have videos of what I'm going to describe. We'll try to post one here or on our photo site but still shots may have to do for now.

Maybe the best thing about traveling are those "you've got to be kidding me" moments. You know, when you stumble across some super-beautiful plaza or building you've never heard of or when you get into a city in a foreign country and see a poster advertising one of your favorite bands playing that night or when you rent a scooter and drive miles from the tourist area to find a pristine, mile-long stretch of beach populated only by fishermen and their families. To some extent, we all live to experience those moments whether on a vacation or just on a weekend trip with your friends. The necessary routine of work and daily life keep us from pursuing them constantly but those moments of joy are what motivate us. Every once in awhile, though, you happen to be in the right place at the right time and something happens that is totally unexpected and undeniably cool.

A few days ago, Tami and I visited the famous cathedral by Antoni Gaudi, La Sagrada Familia. Gaudi's architectural legacy is reason, in and of itself, to visit Barcelona. He worked there in the late 1800's into the early part of the twentieth century. His works are large, livable sculptures as much as they are buildings. That modern architects like Frank Gehry get so much press for, in many senses, re-working Gaudi's themes, testifies to how profound his impact has been. Of the 650 or so cultural monuments on this planet designated as UNESCO World Heritage Sites , seven works (taken collectively as one group) belong to Antoni Gaudi. His still unfinished masterwork is La Sagrada Familia. Construction on it began in the late 1800's. I will consider myself very lucky to be alive to see its estimated completion date of 2050. Pretty much everyone I've ever talked with who's been to Barcelona counts a visit to this building as the highlight.

We came to Barcelona to do and see a few things: sample the late-night life, wander the medieval alleys of the older parts of the city and see buildings by Gaudi and other 'Modernisme' architects. We'd visited and photographed several by the time we got to Sagrada Familia. We purposefully saved that one for the climax. No building from this period is anything like Sagrada Familia in terms of size and scope. Gaudi's other buildings, remember, are counted among the most noteworthy on the planet. This one, though, was one man's attempt to design a cathedral on a scale with the greatest cathedrals of Europe. Though the builders still have a few decades to go, many would agree that Gaudi fulfilled that goal completely. I've visited quite a few epic churches around the world. Sagrada Familia is unlike any other. I could go on and on. Suffice it to say, these people are building another Taj Mahal.

If the building itself wasn't freaky enough, we had a surreal sky over the city. A large and very dark storm filled the sky to the north and west. As it moved in, the occasional flash of lightning set the stage for a gothic experience straight out of Frankenstein. There was no foreboding. We felt like we were getting a special show.

From the first minutes we were in the building, I had that "you've got to be kidding me" feeling. The support columns were as big as redwoods with flutings and carvings unlike any 'conventional' church. There were oval starbust capitals and fluting that doubled each one fourth of the way up from the floor. As we climbed the main structure then the towers, more and more whimsical and playful details unfolded: huge gargoyle-like decorations shaped like conch shells, a pair of legs protuding from a wall above a stained glass window 150 feet above the street, peephole views of Barcelona through eggplant shaped openings. Gaudi set up lots of little landings and balconies so climbers could stop and enjoy different perspectives. At each one, people lingered and snapped photos like crazy. We did the same.

At the highest point, some three hundred and fifty feet above the city, you cross out between two towers on a small bridge. From here, we could see well out across Barcelona and the Mediterranean. As I looked to the east I saw something on the far horizon that I recognized but didn't register as real because I'd only seen things like it on video. The edge of the storm clouds were rimmed by a clear, evening sky but, just in front of the edge of the clouds and stretching from them to the ground was a long, slender....bending....dark line. Bending. At first, I didn't even pay attention. I had to see it a second time before I even questioned what it was.

Growing up in the Midwest, tornados take on a mythic aura. The twister from Wizard of Oz seems much more real when you've had to head to the basement during summer warnings. The potential for harm notwithstanding, I'd always wanted to see a tornado in person. Now, from this most romantic (and exposed) of perches, I was not only seeing a tornado but one that was hovering over the Mediterranean just off the coast of Barcelona....and coming slowly our way. Not only was this a tornado, this was a water spout giving its shape clear definition against the twilit sky. Talk about luck. It was still a good six or eight miles away so we couldn't hear it but there was no denying what we saw. As other people walked out on the little bridge to view the city, we pointed the twister out to them. They all either fell silent or murmured a few words and hurried down. We stayed and watched (and videoed) for a good half hour.

Something like that could have been anywhere and it would have left me dumbfounded. That it happened when and where it did gave me a little nod and wink of approval that we are on a good trail.

A Fond Farewell

Ninety-six hours ago Tami and I stood on the platform of the W. 4th and 6th Ave. subway station in New York City. It was 2:00 a.m. and we'd just left Rich Janda's apartment after capping off a great night with some friends. Sherry and Luigi, Kenny Ray and Sharon, Nick, Rich and Tracy all joined for dinner at an excellent veggie restaurant on Union Square. Despite the camraderie, I felt an underlying unease and sadness. I wasn't sure what it was. It could have been little of the ever-present financial concerns. It could have been apprehension of large, imminent changes. It wasn't until we held each other on that platform in the chill morning air that the weight of the moment hit me. With a trembling voice, Tami whispered that this was the last night we'd spend in the United States for some time. I felt like crying, too.

We just finished a 5,200 mile drive from San Francisco to Michigan. Almost the entire route was filled with amazing sights and, most importantly, punctuated by visits with friends. The last stop before NYC was a five-day stretch at Tom and Jo Kladzyk's in Manchester, the climax of which was a rowdy (and bit messy) going away party. On February 13th we got up at 3:30 a.m. and, despite NYC getting its largest recorded snowfall ever, landed in Newark eight hours later.

We dumped our stuff in Brooklyn and headed into Manhattan to take care of our last minute errands. Somehow we managed to fit in a stop at the skating rink at Rockefeller Center to surreptitiously drink a 22 oz. Lagunitas IPA that we ferried all the way from San Francisco. It was worth the effort. We went down to meet everyone for dinner, went for a nightcap then headed back to Brooklyn. A fond farewell, indeed.

Now were here in Barcelona. My, my. This city's been near the top of my to-do list for a long, long time. It's great to be here for so many self-evident reasons: food, wine, nightlife, walking, architecture...and on, and on. I didn't realize, though, how being in Spain was going to tie together so many of my past trips. The other night it was late and we were walking back to the hotel. For a moment, as I absent-mindedly read the shop signs, I forgot where I was. We could have been in Caracas or Cusco or Mexico City or Havana. It could have been Guatemala City or Tegucigalpa. The last five foreign countries I've visited have been former Spanish colonies and I went to two others years ago. Now I'm here seeing the other side,the destination for all that wealth. It's odd that the only mention I've seen of ANY of them is posters at travel agencies.

More to come later. We miss you.

Holiday Who?

February 10th
Ann Arbor, MI

Now comes the part of our trip where we pare down to the material possessions that should remain more or less consistent for the remainder of our time traveling. From the beginning, I recognized this drive across the US as the indulgence that its additional costs demonstrate it to be. By cost, I mean purely financial. There is no question this time is being well spent. With respect to indulgence, anything less than a beeline to the Third World is excessive given our lack of income. Europe, then too, is an indulgence. It differs, though, in that we shed all that we can’t carry. It also differs in that, apart from Karolina, we stop visiting friends and, with luck, friends might start visiting us.

We made it clear from the get-go we wanted our friends to share in this adventure. I’m here to say once more, “Come on out and join us!” Our rough, overall schedule is below. If you’re interested in joining in at any point along the way for a festival, for a special city or country, just to get some warm weather or if you want to have an adventure and want to try something new; we’ll do whatever we can to coordinate with you so we can meet. Come keep us company! We’ll remember it the rest of our lives.

SPAIN: mid-February through early to mid-April
HOLLAND/AMSTERDAM: mid-April through early May
INDIA: early May through September or early October (this will include some weeks in Nepal in late’ish May.
TIBET: early October through early December.
SOUTHERN CHINA: December through mid-January
VIETNAM/CAMBODIA/LAOS/THAILAND/BURMA: We have a rough route planned through here. If you’re interested, stay in touch. As we get closer in time, we’ll have clearer dates.

Safe Houses

February 6th, 2006
Just South of Lansing, MI

We spent last night in Indianapolis at Charlie Wiles’ and had a fantastic evening of food, beer, music and general catching up. We met his wife Satchiko, his two daughters Lena and Aiya and his young foreign exchange student from Shanghai. Vinnie from GarageMahal also joined in the festivities.

The visit was another in a growing progression of connections with people we’ve shared good times with along the way. Sometimes, Tami and I joke about the trail of chaos we might leave behind as many of our hosts have to rise for work or to take care of family following protracted evenings of partying. I know we’d have a hard time maintaining our routines back home if a similar pair waltzed into our lives in the middle of the week. All the more credit to the likes of Charlie and the hosts who preceded: Tanya and Amanda in Dallas, Frank and Co. in El Paso, Chris and Mary (and Scott, Tami, Big Cheese and Squeeze) in LA, Todd and Christie in Tucson, my Mom and her man Bob in Casa Grande, AZ…… To the person, they’ve all been excellent hosts and the visits have punctuated our journey with the sustenance of community, extended as it is.

These are all people we really enjoy. The fact that the visits have stretched a good distance across a continent has added an unexpected continuity to the journey. Their homes are the interludes between chapters where we recount the recent sights and experiences from our lives and they catch us up on theirs. Over a nice meal and long conversations we are getting some of the best memories since leaving San Francisco.

Faded Glory

February 4th, 2006
New Harmony, IN


Earlier today we had the unexpected pleasure of an afternoon in Cairo, IL; confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. We were just trying to make time on two-lane roads and our route put Cairo in our path. We had lunch on the levee at the edge of the utterly ruined and abandoned downtown. The ghostly skeletons of the buildings reminded me of Havana. That the town lies at the union of one of the most storied transportation routes in North America, is tough to understand. All around Cairo (pronounced kay-ro) you can see evidence of the wealth that once flowed into the town (pun intended). Yet now, the streets look a little like the communists took over and sent the last three generations out to work on collective farms.

We spent the night just outside of the above state park and woke up to drive into the small town of New Harmony, IN. For a couple decades in the early 1800s New Harmony was an intentional community of like-minded Christian folks who wanted to live cooperatively. I don’t know much more than that about their background but they valued work, prayerful reflection and beauty in their surroundings. The physical legacy they left behind is certainly worth a visit. The seeds of their values took root and New Harmony is a small town with a very well kept collection of buildings going back over 200 years. The residents who followed the founders built and maintained beautiful parks in addition to the buildings.

Someone along the way recognized the unique quality of New Harmony and a combination of the state, a nearby university and the residents themselves set up a preservationist foundation to maintain the town and set up the infrastructure to allow visitors to explore it. Somehow, they raised the funds to build a museum and visitor center designed by Richard Meier (of the Getty Musem fame). In the early nineteen sixties they got Philip Johnson to design an outdoor worship area; a roofless church, really (see our photos), that is one of the most spiritual places I have ever set foot.

New Harmony was a gem that I’d never even heard of before our visit. Cairo was a place I remembered from Mark Twain and numerous other references. What different paths unfolded for each. Cairo looks like it had everything going for it but, whether it was rail or the interstate highway system or something else, it tripped up badly and never recovered. New Harmony looked like its ambitions were much more modest so it had a shorter distance to fall. It’s still a sleepy ‘retreat’ of a town but one can see making a life there.

Three Days

February 3, 2006
About an hour east of Dallas, TX

Sadly, we say goodbye to the West. I’ve felt smothered and edgy since we entered the cotton country in west Texas. There, were stretches miles-long where no land was left untilled, ungraded, unpaved or unpunctured by rusting, black oil well pumps. The horizon was broken only by the pumps and telephone and power poles. From that area on, camping is a more furtive adventure. Looking over our shoulders drains much of the fun. It’s difficult to find spaces large enough that you’re out of site of houses or passing cars. Any land that looks open is invariably surrounded by fence. Camping on the side of a public road, no matter how isolated, feels too exposed. We don’t stay up late and you never know when some potential troublemaker might drive by. All apprehensions resonate a bit stronger when you’re with someone you need to protect.

What contrast to the experiences and terrain of a few days ago. After leaving El Paso, we drove east toward Guadelupe Mountains National Park. We only made it 60 miles out of town because we spent five hours sitting in the parking lot of a motel w/ wi-fi internet. Staying connected takes time.

We camped in a shallow, cholla-filled hollow of the high plains. Except for three distant mountains, it was the first horizon-less sky we’d seen; certainly the first we’d seen of that gaping openness. It almost felt threatening as if we were on the edge of trying to get away with something in the full sight of some authority figure that could hinder us on our way. Before that, the land was on our side. Now, the land challenges us.

That first night east of El Paso we were treated to a beautiful twilight and, for the first time since Phoenix, to comfortably warm air. We kept looking up from cooking to admire the fading light. The silvery blue to the west lingered long enough that I wondered hopefully if it was a harbinger of continued warm, spring temps. Then, I realized the persistent glow was from the millions of lights in El Paso and Juarez.

Guadelupe Mtns. NP stopped us in our tracks as we approached its signature (and underestimated by me) massifs. In scope and scale it might not be a sole vacation destination but the views would stir anyone who appreciates nature. We summited Guadelupe Mountain, the ‘Top-a-Texas’, on January 26th. Even with gray skies and chilly temps up top, we got the thrill of a hike that tested us and panoramic views.

The next day we rose early and drove the 50 or so miles to Carlsbad Caverns NP. We arrived just after they opened. Wow. We started with a guided tour which was ok but we only got a hint of the scale of the caverns. It wasn’t until we did the walk descending through the natural entrance (as opposed to the elevator that takes you down the 800+ feet, that I began to get a sense of how large the caves are. There are rooms that I think could house an aircraft carrier. The thing about the size that most makes you stare in wonder is there are no supports for the ceilings. These huge planes of limestone angle overhead with no poles or columns to break the line of sight. It instills, at the same time, feelings of vertigo and deep safety. I suppose the most hardened, bomb-proof bunkers of our government instill the same feeling of invulnerability. As we descended, I thought how the bigger rooms reminded me of the under world in the Matrix movies. I couldn’t escape musing about Moria from the Lord of the Rings.

The deeper caves were not quite of the scale as those above but they had the otherworldly mineral formations: stalactites and stalagmites, huge, popcorn formations, pools, etc. The park people did a fun but discrete job of lighting the spaces. The caves unfolded almost narratively as we walked. By the end of the day, we both were wowed. I look at the photos and still feel a thrill that I was in such a strange environment. Next time, more time and more guided tours.

The next day, Janary 28th,we returned to White Sands, this time, to camp. We arrived in the early afternoon, unloaded our gear and trundled it into the dunes to set up camp. Sunset was a couple hours away so we set off on a hike into the dunes. We could have walked for miles but, without trail markers, we stayed close to camp. The light faded and twilight exploded across the sky, psychedelic clouds and sky above and white dunes below.

Look at the pictures we posted. Or, for god’s sake, get yourself out there at some point. My silly efforts to describe them fall pitifully short. Just go…

As we were driving east toward Roswell, land of aliens, on the 29th, I reflected on what we’d experienced in the three prior days: Guadelupe Peak, Carlsbad Caverns and White Sands. Any one of the three would have been memorable. Together they were enough to make us both laugh at our excellent fortune.

41

El Paso, TX

My, my...weeks later, so much seen and so much to say. All is still very good here on the road. Contributing to the buoyancy of our moods is a steady stream of natural beauty and cultural curiosities. The past two days provided a human highlight with a visit and reconnection with and old hometown friend. I was worried about intruding on the busy daily life of a working man and father of two young boys but my friend was consummate casualness and made us feel right at home.

As it turned out, we arrived at his house the evening of my birthday; a day, which itself, was a manifest gift. We started in the self-proclaimed "world chile capital", Hatch, New Mexico. It looks like a fertile farming part of the Rio Grand valley so you could believe they might grow and process enough chiles to make such a claim. The look of the town, though, echoes with the hollow swish of a swung at and missed marketing opportunity. There are a few scattered signs proclaiming a chile festival on Labor Day weekend but the half of the storefronts that aren't boarded have the have the charm of a December 26th vacant lot enlisted to peddle Christmas trees. Of the half dozen shops that actually seemed to sell chiles and related paraphanalia year-round, we found one (with no posted hours so we sat in front drinking coffee until she opened) in a one-car lean-to off the side of a house. The proprietoress was an old Latina lady who shuffled around muttering "es fria" (it's cold). She wore a grey, ankle length skirt and a grey sweater. With her long grey hair in the dim morning light, she was the perfect ghostly shopkeeper for a town like Hatch.

All misgivings about appearances aside, she did carry a heck of an assortment of chiles both whole and ground. Like the other shops we'd seen, she sold the decorative, strung "ristras" the many New Mexicans hang on their porches for decoration. Most of her shop was devoted to food, though. I bought dried, whole green, flakes of red; hot New Mexican and whole, dried chipotles, the smoked Jalepeno. Paradise... If we weren't paring down to backpacks in three weeks, I'd have left with twenty offerings. Tami noticed that she unexpectedly had flax seeds for sale. I saw some unrecognizable herbs in dusty jars. Given her appearance, I wouldn't have been surprised if she had 'eye of newt' under the counter. All that matters is, I left a happy customer.

At Tami's urging, we headed south and east toward White Sands National Monument. We got back into the truck...put on the darkest sunglasses...and chose a suitable playlist from the I-Pod; some music fitting for a couple hours of desert and mountains. Seventy miles per hour on a thin strip of blacktop with a hybrid of African vocals and downtempo audio production can seem a lot like flying slow and ever-so-close over the desert floor. The space is empty enough that the occasional roadrunner (for real) dashing across our path or the odd, eviscerated motel can spur long spells of contemplation.

We arrived at white sands about mid-day. The monument rests in a long north/south valley flanked on each side by mountains that rise more than a mile above. The sands themselves form dunes of fine, sugar-white crystals sculpted into a merengue by the desert winds. Apart from the stunning, not-of-this-earth beauty; perhaps the nicest thing about the place is how walkable the dunes are. You'd expect sand to be drudgery but near the crest of each dune there is a sweet spot where the sand is compact as flagstone. You can stroll for hours without tiring.

As we were preparing for our stroll into the sand, my attention was subtly (at first) distracted from my lunch. I saw a black form rising against the mountains. Ravens are the most ubiquitous animal we've seen in the Southwest and I thought is was looking at one rising on an air current. Three or four seconds passed and the wings never flapped yet it continued to pull away from the Earth at an angle not far off of vertical. As it rose, it rotated slightly. The smoothness of the motion and the sharp outline made me realize what I was looking at was much more distant and much larger than I'd thought. Then, after a few more seconds, the sound hit. Jet engines reverberating over the desert. In the heart of this still, austere land, I was witnessing my first Stealth jet. It was odd that, in the silent desert, even this machine introduced itself noiselessly. As the noise of the engines washed over us, the plane arced up and away from the ground with the trajectory more of a rocket than a plane. I couldn't help but stare in awe. Stealth are new and rare planes and, from what I could see, they are large. This one was accompanied by a smaller fighter jet that I also initially mistook to be a bird harrying the raven. The Stealth was twice the size of the other jet. We settled back to lunch but, maybe a minute later, we heard engines again. Another Stealth, this one solo, streaked almost straight up. They flew so quickly they were gone from sight in less than a minute. About the time one plane disappeared, another launched. We watched eight rise consecutively. Rocketing from the desert floor was more than a billion tax dollars in just about ten minutes. That's not to mention the fuel, support and training costs. I assume a pilot has to fly for years before getting into one of these. We we seeing a daily occurance?

On this planet, there is very likely no more contrasting example of the demarcation between the collection (extortion) of public resources and the oligarchical direction of their expenditure. I paid for some small part of those craft and, at the same time, I was completely surrounded signs and fencing that stridently warned me I had no right to go near them.

We finished lunch and started walking. Every so often, we'd hear a muted roar. Occasionally, I could spot two F-117's flying wing to wing miles above us. These visions gave rise to rise to different musings than roadrunners and derelict motels. "Top gun" and "protection money", indeed. It was a macabre counterpoint to the joy one might feel on the anniversary of the day of one's entry into this life.

In all, our time in the sand was sublime. We are thinking about returning today.

We got back to the truck and headed southwest toward El Paso. A friend lived there now who I hadn't seen in twenty years. Though I was apprehensive about dropping in, connnecting with friends and family was an overriding motivation for this journey....so we went ahead. We arrived at his home around sunset. Apart from a few shallow wrinkles and a few extra pounds, he hadn't changed a bit. He was clearly happy to see us and granted us the rare pleasure of feeling right at home in a new place. That night and the next we ate, drank beer and caught up.

Tami and I managed to sneak over the border to Juarez, Mexico's fourth largest city. I've been curious about maquilla country (my friend refers to it as "NAFTAnia") since first seeing the exodus of manufacturing from the rust belt. There seems to be an abundance of human energy around El Paso/Jaurez and it is much grittier than other sun belt cities. Working class in the high desert.

Now, we go back north for another look at White Sands. This time, we plan to camp for a night in the backcountry; just us and the dunes. Then, we press east: Hueco Tanks State Park, Carlsbad Caverns National Park, Guadeloupe Mountains National Park, Dallas, Indianapolis, Manchester, MI; NYC...... Then we're down to backpacks and passports.

If you are checking our photos, click the link for the photo site. The newest photos are posted at the end of each album. To see the newest without clicking through older photos, click on the "Last" arrow and work backwards.

XO from the road.

Up For Air

Alright, alright....remember how we kept telling everyone we'd be leaving San Francisco one day, then, that day would get backed up....again and again? It felt like manana ad infinitum. Well....same deal with this blog. We promised one. We just underestimated the number and intensity of the "distractions" that would get in the way of publishing it. So, here we finallly are!

You can see links to our photos thus far. Everthing is on the "My Photo Album" site at this point. Use that link. You can also see Tami's blog (sure to be more entertaining than my own) by clicking your mouse on her link: "Tami's Blog". If you have questions, I think you can post comments. If that doesn't work, you can e-mail me at holidaydarin@gmail.com

How about a status report? We're here to tell you the rugged West seems to be doing just fine. With nighttime temps in the mid to low-teens, we have most of the national parks and monuments to ourselves. The silence at places like Canyonlands Nat. Park is hard to believe. It's broken only by the 'caw' or the occasional raven. Last night was our first night in a hotel in nine. A hot shower has seldom had such restorative power. Enjoy 'em while you got 'em, folks!

We finally got out of SF on December 21. We had an excellent but brief few days in LA then headed to central Arizona to spend the holidays with the folks. Tami learned how to play the ever-popular mid-western card game, euchre. That's gift enough for the holidays right there, isn't it? On January 2nd, we left for Canyon Country. Since then, we've been hiking around with our jaws barely above the ground gaping at the majestic beauty. Our photos can't come close to doing it justice but you can get an idea. More will follow as we find time to post.

The one thing I want to convey here, is our thanks to our friends and family (they are all one and the same, right?) for the help and support in this decision and the resultant work involved. I never would have asked for all the help that was offered but, in retrospect, I don't know how we would have gotten out of town without it. We are very lucky folks to have all of you in our lives....and you should know fromt this point forward, we intend to keep you!

OK...we're off to view some more ancient cliff dwellings. See you soon.

-HD