Day Three: Apologies to Witchita as well...

Waking up on Day Three in our favorite roomie's apartment, eating breakfast out of her familiar bowls, and lazily getting ready for the day in a bathroom that smelled neither of dirty water nor of cigarette smoke was just about the perfect way for these road-weary travelers to start the day. All the weather reports said it was to rain today, so we bundled up and (gasp!) put on shoes, heading out to spend what ended up being a beautiful, if cloudy, day in SF.

We hopped on the fantastic public transportation and met up with our good friends Val & Whitney at about a quarter to one. Except for their college years, they've lived in San Francisco their whole lives, having met and begun dating while they were in high school together. Sound like anyone you know? Val sang with me in Random Voices, and Whitney and Mike bonded over being awesome RV boyfriends. Whitney and I one time both wore white shirts and jeans, and I crossed to the other side of the street before he saw me, so as to avoid the awkwardness.

Every time we come up to San Francisco we enjoy getting the insider's tour from these local folk, especially of the best food in the city. By the time we stumbled back to Robyn's apartment, leg-tired and tummy-full, we had eaten at their favorite burrito joint, gotten delicious organic and homemade ice cream, picked up pastries for breakfast tomorrow, munched on some great hole-in-the-wall pizza, and dipped gourmet Belgian fries into gourmet Belgian dipping sauces.

It's one thing I always appreciate about SF, that I can't seem to find in Long Beach: the endless independent and delicious eateries that are absolutely endemic to the area. In SF it just seems like there are fewer chains and more small shops and restaurants, relying on becoming neighborhood favorites rather than putting up billboards.

By far the coolest random little San Francisco attraction we found today should, in all fairness, have been just an urban legend. We hiked up several hills because Val had heard a rumor... and surely, nothing could really be this awesome. But yet, in the middle of an otherwise completely normal neighborhood, in a tiny park lodged betwixt two houses, was a long and inexplicable concrete slide. Suffice it to say that it will take a lot to top this (sorry Bozeman):

Today we listened to: Whitney strumming his guitar while we tried to muster the energy to walk out the door again, and mad techno beats in the Belgian fry shop.

Mystery ask-us-about-us-when-we-get-home words for today: "Sacramento St."

Day Two: Street View may also have helped

Day Two, and we're already taking a break. Just a 2 hour drive from Salinas to my college roomie's apartment in the Mission Bay area of San Francisco. She was working in her brain-poking lab till 5:30, so we tried to drag our heels as much as possible, seeing some sights along the way. Here is something we should have planned out more carefully.

We stopped at the San Francisco 49ers headquarters in Santa Clara, hoping to spend an hour or so driving around, peeking in on a pick-up game between off-season players. We packed Mike's Joe Montana football just in case we ran into the legend and he wanted to toss the ball around. Of course, when we arrived, it was a beautiful building (flying a 'Niners flag under the American one) with some branded SUVs in the "Restricted Parking" lot. We snuck a couple of pictures from across the street, then were back on the 101 about fifteen minutes after we'd disembarked. Five hours until Robyn gets out of her lab.

We thought we'd explore Mountain View a bit, so we got off a couple miles up the road, right in front of the Google compound. There was a sign saying "Visitor's Lobby," so we thought we'd pop in and kill a few hours with a quick tour and some free T-shirts. Passing fleets of Google bicycles, two "Expecting Mothers" parking spots, and the famous Google mini-vans, we took advantage of the free valet parking and trotted into the lobby. Turns out there's a strict closed campus policy, and visitors without an employee accompanying them are promptly escorted off the premises. We grabbed some free Naked Juice and got back on the freeway. Twenty minutes killed. We should have asked Jeeves.

The drive through the Stanford campus was pretty but it couldn't last forever. Candlestick Park was closed and, though it was awesome to be only a huge parking lot and a chainlink fence away it, one can only drive around it so many times before the drug dealers doing business across the street start to get suspicious. Even getting lost on the way back to the freeway was little help: we arrived at Robyn's apartment at 2.

In any case, we're here now, and it's good to have an oasis to relax in for a few days before we embark on the rest of our journey. We've got a couple folks we'll be visiting and many cool sites we're looking forward to seeing again. And, with Robyn's rad apartment at least half-filled with familiar furnishings, San Francisco is homey and comfortable. Drink up, camels! It's going to be a vast desert before we're staying with friendly faces again.

Today we listened to: Willie Nelson Essentials, Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone? (Harvey Danger), and the first hour of the audiobook of On the Road.

Mystery ask-us-about-us-when-we-get-home words for today: "bronze spider"

Mike's blog: astoriedyear.blogspot.com

Day One: Travels With Sharley

We have deemed Day One a success. We went to bed last night incompletely packed, sunburned, and muscle-sore (thanks, basketball in the park!) but woke up this morning with a few hours of sleep under our belts and just enough energy to shuffle to the car, scoot the car into the traffic circle, and plop ourselves onto the fabled Pacific Coast Highway. All of this, and only 2 hours off schedule!

As we passed through La Cochita (a little house-cluster a few miles south of Santa Barbara), Mike said: "Why would anyone even try and argue that anything's better than California?" And, though I may be singing a different tune at the end of our Mike-and-SharTour, I have to agree. We're only about halfway through the state and we've already seen a head-spinning display of diverse and spectacular beauty. From the muddy, muddy slopes of Malibu to the coastal wineries and lettuce fields... we're not unaware of how lucky we are to be Californians. Look at what 6 and a half hours of good hard driving can show us!


The reason for staying in Salinas, of course, should be obvious: it's Steinbeck country. After checking into our hotel, we went straight to the National Steinbeck Center and paid our discounted ticket rate (friends, don't ever throw away your student ID cards!). What a cool place. The main exhibit, of course, is about John Steinbeck's life and work, focusing on his ties to Monterey County. The Center's only 10 years old, and the exhibit is modern and innovative to prove it.

The real gem of the Center was the exhibit tying in to Salinas' choice for The Big Read, a national event trying to bring literacy back into American culture. The book is Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, and there are many really cool events going on here, including a program wherein participants name and defend the one book that they would save. At the Center, there's the Walking Through the Book exhibit, which artistically portrays scenes from the book while highlighting the importance of knowledge and free thought in a highly awesome way.


Today we listened to: We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank (Modest Mouse), Going Somewhere (Colin Hay), "California One/Youth and Beauty Brigade" by The Decemberists, and "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show (thrice).

Mystery ask-us-about-it-when-we-get-home words for today: "giant painted people"

Don't forget to check out Mike's blog: astoriedyear.blogspot.com

On Shoes

When I was very small, I wore very small sandals. My favorite zori were light blue ones, with a rainbow and the word "Hawaii" where my very small foot slipped in. When I got a little bigger, I would always dread the coming of fall, when I would have to stuff my feet back into their school shoes again. And, crushed together and unable to breathe, my toes would whimper all day until I came home and let them free. It wasn't just me, either: I used to close my eyes and listen to the sound of people walking by, knowing that when I heard a slap-slap on the ground I would open my eyes to a brother, a mother, or a father standing over me. Zori meant family, freedom, and a chance for my toes to show their personality. By extension (to my naively dichotomous mind), shoes meant strangers, confinement, and forced conformity.

I walked across the dried lava fields in Hawaii, wearing my zori down on the rough stone until there were holes where my heel could feel earth. I wore sandals around Mono Lake, careful as I walked not to tread on flies or to splash in briny, shrimpy water. I don't wear them when I drive, but this is only because I drive barefoot. I am barefoot in my apartment. I am barefoot when I sing onstage. I am barefoot as I run across grass.

This is all to say: I am packing shoes on this road trip. Specifically, I am packing the Converse I bought to keep in my locker at work, the ones I tied on and took off with my clock-ins and -outs. It is time for them to be dusted with the dirt of freedom. And, though my toes will long to wiggle no less in the chilly air of North Dakota, I cannot bear to lose one of them because of their foolishness. They are important to me, so I will lock them away, like a dozen-or-so little Rapunzels.

Exactly like that.

We are here! We are here!

So, I think it's safe to say I was having an off night (more on this, almost assuredly, will come in a later post). Mike, being the awesome that he is, dropped the road trip itinerary he was typing up and swept me away to go see Horton Hears a Who!, which I've been eagerly anticipating since I first saw the teaser trailer before The Simpsons Movie.

For those unfamiliar with the Dr. Seuss book, the set-up is basically as follows: Horton, a happy-go-lucky and 100% faithful elephant who has previously hatched an abandoned egg, now comes to the rescue of the tiny inhabitants of Who-ville, a town entirely contained upon a speck, which in turn resides on a clover flower. Also, for those unfamiliar with the Dr. Seuss book, shame! Shame! Hissssssssssss....

Fellows, the movie was awesome! It wasn't just funny and silly and heart-warming and all the bare-minimum things you'd expect from a movie with Dr. Seuss's name on the poster. It was also really beautiful-- blending the art of Dr. Seuss with the realistic elements of computer animation into something new and utterly delightful. And the funny and silly and heart-warming parts definitely went above and beyond the call of duty. There were several scenes that had me cracking up (particularly, for some reason, the ones involving Seth Rogan's Morton), and tears were threatening on at least two other occasions.

All in all, I think one of the things I loved most about this movie was that there wasn't a Central Theme or a Grand Lesson. Pro-lifers have been co-opting the line "A person is a person, no matter how small" for their own purposes, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that this wasn't really the Ultimate Focus of the film. The story and the characters within champion individuality, imagination, friendship, and faithfulness. But I felt like the point of the movie can best be encompassed by a phrase like "Be good" or, maybe, "Be the best you can be at being who you are." Towards the end of the movie, Horton gives his thanks to everyone who's been involved in his journey. And he thanks his best buddy (for sticking with him), he thanks the mayor of Who-ville (for always believing in him), and he thanks his neighbors (for caging him and poking him with sticks). I like that, in this movie, there are no villains. Only folks doing their best at being who they are, playing their part in the story to the best of their ability. Even Horton, the hero of the story, is just being who he is: after all, an elephant is faithful, 100%.

Anyway, this movie is fantastic. It takes a great story by a genius of children's literature and it makes it, somehow, into something more. What more could you ask for?

Road Trip Planning: Seeing the Forest, Seeing the Trees

Wow... nine days to go. Mike and I have been completely overwhelmed by the vastness of the experience we're planning for. It would be hard enough if we were just planning routes and finding lodging. But we're acutely aware of the fact that this is a once in a lifetime kinda trip, and we have no idea when (if ever) we'll ever be back in some of these places with time to explore.

So we've been spending pretty much the entire week (not an exaggeration, actually) with our lappys open, making lists of all of the "must see" places we'll be going through. And, friends (or, more likely, friend), there just aren't enough hours in the day. There are parks, lakes, forests, and waterfalls. There are libraries, museums, monuments, and walking tours. And theaters, and concert halls. And sports complexes. And hundreds of uncategorizable random things that aren't even counting the things we'll find as we drive by them on the highway. Did you know that Salem, MA has a Wax Museum of Witches and Seafarers? Not that I at all wanna go, but still...

Without seeing any of the South, and while only seeing half of what we want to see and spending only two days in New York, our trip is going to take more than a month.

Can you believe this country?

Reason #Billion that this road trip is gonna be off da hizzle!

Mike just did a Ticketmaster search for events in Portland while we're in town. And! Guess what's opening the night before we get there?

Tickets: purchased. This is going to be the best thing ever! EVER!!!!!

If you're not familiar with Too Much Coffee Man, this is really your loss. He now exists mostly as a webcomic, but he started out as an indy comic, first self-published by Shannon Wheeler, and eventually picked up for a few color issues by Dark Horse. And he's awesome. He's a superhero of sorts (in that he wears spandex and occasionally interferes in other people's lives), but mostly he's just weird. When you add his friends Too Much Espresso Guy and Too Much German White Chocolate Woman with Almonds into the mix, you know it'll be an adventure.

And might I add that Mike is the freaking awesomest? He was so excited to tell me when he found this that he was giggling like a little kid. And you think it's because he wants to see a tenor sing TMCM arias? I doubt it. Reason #1 that this road trip is gonna be off the hizzle: best co-pilot ever.