Thursday night's incessant sneezing turned into Friday morning's "Crud." I woke up with my throat killing me, and was collecting stuff in both my head and chest although other than that, I felt great!
When Chris had Oscared off Thursday, the idea was to connect Friday morning and figure out a time to meet at REI. After all, that was the flame to my Slab City Moth! The hipbelt on Chris's pack had gone to hell, and as mentioned, the rubber on the shoes Lynette had bought me had already begun separating from the leather, and I was going through the now-standard cycle of obsessing about weight and contemplating downsizing my backpack if they had a suitable model in stock. Yes, by the time we learned Chris was already there, it was obvious that hours of fun was to be had at REI! Literally.
Showing posts with label REI. Show all posts
Showing posts with label REI. Show all posts
Friday, February 5, 2010
Saturday, September 5, 2009
9/5: Boise, ID- Becoming Family
Saturday was the day the entire clan celebrated Robyn's birthday. Robyn is Dave's sister, and in accordance with Fogg tradition, a large birthday breakfast was planned at 
Cracker Barrel. Everyone was up and around by 9, and I was initially uncomfortable in tagging along, feeling a bit like dead- weight strapped to an already full breakfast wagon! When I timidly suggested that I may stay at the house to try to catch up on the blog, Dave was appalled. He went into Lawyerly Litigation Mode, and through some sort of bizarre cross examination, immediately isolated the core of my hesitation. Again, he would have none of my rationalization.
The way Dave had vehemently dismantled the notion of me skipping breakfast struck me as odd, and my instincts were solid. I decided, or so I thought, that a compromise was in order.
After breakfast, I would accompany Lynette back to the house while the rest of the Foggs went to see District 9. As we were leaving Cracker Barrel, Dave told Lynette, "If he (me) gives you any shit, call me!" We had been playfully bantering back and forth for a couple days, so I figured it was just a wise crack. Again, I was wrong.
When Lynette pulled in to the Boise REI, I assumed she needed to pick something up for herself, Dave, or the kids. She then told me, in a teacherly, authoritative tone that after Dave had seen me gluing my shoes the day before, they had decided to get ME new boots. I had passively shown Dave where the heel had separated, then he and Lynette secretly conspired to fix that problem right after breakfast.
Staying at home that morning would have thrown a big wrench in their plans! Dave had also, rightfully, deduced that I would have balked at the notion; thus the, "If he gives you any shit..." comment. I put up a short, weak, and pathetic resistance anyhow, but Lynette too would have none of it. I was outnumbered and overmatched. I was also floored, and almost speechless. Even beyond the mild structure failure, the boots I had been wearing had been a problem. They had caused the huge heel blisters in Maryland and New York State, and they could not be returned. A new pair from REI now meant that I could exchange these if they didn't work out, and more importantly, that I would NEVER need another pair of boots because of their return policy. Once the astonishment of the gesture wore off, I began to feebly try to make sure they new exactly what they had done for me. I don't think I quite articulated it, but I was beyond touched. I wish I was better equipped to show my gratitude.
This was a particularly special day from my perspective;
the day that my long- held notion of separateness was crushed. Not through the simple spending of money, mind you, but by both Lynette and Dave tactfully forcing me to abandon juvenile, self- conscious assumptions that we would always be separate entities because we were not raised together. I'm not sure if it was intentional, but Lynette and her family took that antiquated, rotted fruit, and threw it out the window through simple acceptance, an absolute intolerance of drama, and a blunt, direct authenticity.
As I mentally prepared to end this incredible week- long visit, I was forced to reflect on the past few months, and what it takes to become a brother, as opposed to a "long lost" sibling.
It's something I had managed to achieve with both Lynette and Shelly, but in very different ways. With Shelly, it was by sharing a very raw, personal experience and riding the ensuing emotional roller coaster together. Lynette and her family on the other hand metaphorically sat down that stubborn 10-year old Todd, and set things straight; but with actions and behavior that stood in stark contrast to those of The Hens. Words are powerful things and to the observant eye set standards and demand accountability. Long after the audible sounds have faded they continue speak; sometimes more loudly through the absence of accompanying action. Actions without the cliche', chest- pounding touting of intentions have the greatest effect. To quote a friend who, at this point I had yet to meet, "Shut up and make it happen."
Chris made his way back to Casa de Fogg, and we spent a nice evening just eating, and enjoying the busy, yet calm atmosphere. I began to see that I was going to be genuinely sad to leave Sunday...
Cracker Barrel. Everyone was up and around by 9, and I was initially uncomfortable in tagging along, feeling a bit like dead- weight strapped to an already full breakfast wagon! When I timidly suggested that I may stay at the house to try to catch up on the blog, Dave was appalled. He went into Lawyerly Litigation Mode, and through some sort of bizarre cross examination, immediately isolated the core of my hesitation. Again, he would have none of my rationalization.The way Dave had vehemently dismantled the notion of me skipping breakfast struck me as odd, and my instincts were solid. I decided, or so I thought, that a compromise was in order.
After breakfast, I would accompany Lynette back to the house while the rest of the Foggs went to see District 9. As we were leaving Cracker Barrel, Dave told Lynette, "If he (me) gives you any shit, call me!" We had been playfully bantering back and forth for a couple days, so I figured it was just a wise crack. Again, I was wrong.When Lynette pulled in to the Boise REI, I assumed she needed to pick something up for herself, Dave, or the kids. She then told me, in a teacherly, authoritative tone that after Dave had seen me gluing my shoes the day before, they had decided to get ME new boots. I had passively shown Dave where the heel had separated, then he and Lynette secretly conspired to fix that problem right after breakfast.
Staying at home that morning would have thrown a big wrench in their plans! Dave had also, rightfully, deduced that I would have balked at the notion; thus the, "If he gives you any shit..." comment. I put up a short, weak, and pathetic resistance anyhow, but Lynette too would have none of it. I was outnumbered and overmatched. I was also floored, and almost speechless. Even beyond the mild structure failure, the boots I had been wearing had been a problem. They had caused the huge heel blisters in Maryland and New York State, and they could not be returned. A new pair from REI now meant that I could exchange these if they didn't work out, and more importantly, that I would NEVER need another pair of boots because of their return policy. Once the astonishment of the gesture wore off, I began to feebly try to make sure they new exactly what they had done for me. I don't think I quite articulated it, but I was beyond touched. I wish I was better equipped to show my gratitude.This was a particularly special day from my perspective;
the day that my long- held notion of separateness was crushed. Not through the simple spending of money, mind you, but by both Lynette and Dave tactfully forcing me to abandon juvenile, self- conscious assumptions that we would always be separate entities because we were not raised together. I'm not sure if it was intentional, but Lynette and her family took that antiquated, rotted fruit, and threw it out the window through simple acceptance, an absolute intolerance of drama, and a blunt, direct authenticity.As I mentally prepared to end this incredible week- long visit, I was forced to reflect on the past few months, and what it takes to become a brother, as opposed to a "long lost" sibling.
It's something I had managed to achieve with both Lynette and Shelly, but in very different ways. With Shelly, it was by sharing a very raw, personal experience and riding the ensuing emotional roller coaster together. Lynette and her family on the other hand metaphorically sat down that stubborn 10-year old Todd, and set things straight; but with actions and behavior that stood in stark contrast to those of The Hens. Words are powerful things and to the observant eye set standards and demand accountability. Long after the audible sounds have faded they continue speak; sometimes more loudly through the absence of accompanying action. Actions without the cliche', chest- pounding touting of intentions have the greatest effect. To quote a friend who, at this point I had yet to meet, "Shut up and make it happen."Chris made his way back to Casa de Fogg, and we spent a nice evening just eating, and enjoying the busy, yet calm atmosphere. I began to see that I was going to be genuinely sad to leave Sunday...
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
6/2: Kalamazoo
Tuesday began as Monday had: Dropping Shelly at work, then hitting the road to Ann Arbor. We returned to her house so I could prepare Elmo for his demise; unpacking everything and repeatedly searching him to be sure I was returning only the pack! Not unlike leaving an apartment for the last time. During this process, I discovered that even if I had not found the new pack, I would have returned it because stitching had failed where a stabilizer strap meets the rubber fabric on the bottom. My good fortune was continuing.
We found "Sunshine" again working at REI, and a new day had done nothing for her demeanor. I just glared at her the entire time she struggled through the process of refunding my money. We normally will look around for a spell anytime we get to REI, but through all of this, we were ready to get to Bivouac. I figured the various other things I needed would be better purchased there. Plus we wanted to catch Pam before her shift ended at noon. We had a good time chatting with her and the other employees before heading to Whole Foods for mate' and Cliff Bars and returning to Ohio to prepare to meet my friends Brian & Joey in Coldwater that evening.
Once on the road back to Michigan, it was yet another trip down memory lane. Shelly took the Hillsdale County back roads thru Camden, Reading, and Allen before stopping at her mother's place on a lake in Quincy. I had heard alot about Charlotte over the years from my own mother.
They had been friends despite the fact that she was my father's ex- wife and my mother had always recommended that I contact her to meet her kids and learn about my father. Being at her house was a bit strange, and the idea that I was going to meet her the following week with my new- nephews was even more bizarre. That all changed immediately when she unexpectedly passed us on the road just after we had left her house. Shelly turned around, and we were instantly making introductions. Charlotte gave me a hug, an intense look up and down presumably evaluating any resemblance to my father, and all was well in the world. Another one of these mythical, main characters from an previously abstract past brought to life.
The four of us piled in Shelly's car, and finished our trip into Coldwater, stopping at the Big Boy for food and coffee while Brian & Joey made their way from Kalamazoo.
Once they arrived, they joined us for coffee while I found myself astounded by this gathering of people. My sister & her mother from one era of my life. Brian & Joey from my radio days. Chris representing my days in Denver and beyond. I have never allowed these epochs to clash, and it was a sign of things to come. The conversation was light, loud, and full of laughter as we sat at this dumpy little restaurant on US-12 in Coldwater.
I had lived in Kalamazoo for nearly 5- years before moving to Florida in 2004. Brian & Joey have been my best, longest lasting, perhaps my only remaining "real" friends from my Kalamazoo radio days. I met Brian when he was my Program Director at 107.7 WRKR. We had shared a common passion for radio, beyond "bottom line" and "product." We considered radio an art form, public service, and more than just a simple advertising venue. He is to- date the only PD who demanded creativity first, and avoided the "radio formula" like a plague. The ratings reflected this. Unfortunately, corporate powers disagreed and we eventually, after job changes for both of us, found ourselves continuously miserable and frustrated as we began to seek out other ways to live. After I left WRKR, I rented a room in their home for nearly a year. Brian and I would spend hours philosophizing about radio, life, politics... everything. I remember distinctly sitting at his dining room table when he made the decision to tell radio to go fuck itself and go back to school to get his psychology degree in 2003. He's now preparing for his doctorate and presumably moving to Denver for that in 2010.
I had seen Brian & Joey once or twice a year, whenever Shalain and I would return to Kalamazoo, and the familiarity was nice. As we rode back to Kalamazoo, the "plan" was to stay through Saturday, then meet up with Shelly after the BBQ at our father's house in Charlotte, MI that Sunday. The one I had once hoped to attend. That would give us 4- days in Kalamazoo, and I was eager to see how the conversations would go and what insights we'd leave with. I was also anxious to see if I was right in assuming that Chris would get along with these two brilliantly!
We found "Sunshine" again working at REI, and a new day had done nothing for her demeanor. I just glared at her the entire time she struggled through the process of refunding my money. We normally will look around for a spell anytime we get to REI, but through all of this, we were ready to get to Bivouac. I figured the various other things I needed would be better purchased there. Plus we wanted to catch Pam before her shift ended at noon. We had a good time chatting with her and the other employees before heading to Whole Foods for mate' and Cliff Bars and returning to Ohio to prepare to meet my friends Brian & Joey in Coldwater that evening.
Once on the road back to Michigan, it was yet another trip down memory lane. Shelly took the Hillsdale County back roads thru Camden, Reading, and Allen before stopping at her mother's place on a lake in Quincy. I had heard alot about Charlotte over the years from my own mother.
They had been friends despite the fact that she was my father's ex- wife and my mother had always recommended that I contact her to meet her kids and learn about my father. Being at her house was a bit strange, and the idea that I was going to meet her the following week with my new- nephews was even more bizarre. That all changed immediately when she unexpectedly passed us on the road just after we had left her house. Shelly turned around, and we were instantly making introductions. Charlotte gave me a hug, an intense look up and down presumably evaluating any resemblance to my father, and all was well in the world. Another one of these mythical, main characters from an previously abstract past brought to life.The four of us piled in Shelly's car, and finished our trip into Coldwater, stopping at the Big Boy for food and coffee while Brian & Joey made their way from Kalamazoo.
Once they arrived, they joined us for coffee while I found myself astounded by this gathering of people. My sister & her mother from one era of my life. Brian & Joey from my radio days. Chris representing my days in Denver and beyond. I have never allowed these epochs to clash, and it was a sign of things to come. The conversation was light, loud, and full of laughter as we sat at this dumpy little restaurant on US-12 in Coldwater.I had lived in Kalamazoo for nearly 5- years before moving to Florida in 2004. Brian & Joey have been my best, longest lasting, perhaps my only remaining "real" friends from my Kalamazoo radio days. I met Brian when he was my Program Director at 107.7 WRKR. We had shared a common passion for radio, beyond "bottom line" and "product." We considered radio an art form, public service, and more than just a simple advertising venue. He is to- date the only PD who demanded creativity first, and avoided the "radio formula" like a plague. The ratings reflected this. Unfortunately, corporate powers disagreed and we eventually, after job changes for both of us, found ourselves continuously miserable and frustrated as we began to seek out other ways to live. After I left WRKR, I rented a room in their home for nearly a year. Brian and I would spend hours philosophizing about radio, life, politics... everything. I remember distinctly sitting at his dining room table when he made the decision to tell radio to go fuck itself and go back to school to get his psychology degree in 2003. He's now preparing for his doctorate and presumably moving to Denver for that in 2010.
I had seen Brian & Joey once or twice a year, whenever Shalain and I would return to Kalamazoo, and the familiarity was nice. As we rode back to Kalamazoo, the "plan" was to stay through Saturday, then meet up with Shelly after the BBQ at our father's house in Charlotte, MI that Sunday. The one I had once hoped to attend. That would give us 4- days in Kalamazoo, and I was eager to see how the conversations would go and what insights we'd leave with. I was also anxious to see if I was right in assuming that Chris would get along with these two brilliantly!
Labels:
Ann Arbor MI,
Bivouac Ann Arbor,
Brian and Joey,
Kalamazoo MI,
Michigan,
Ohio,
REI,
Shelly
6/1: Michigan
With the buildup and Internet conversation, Shelly and I had little to cover once I arrived. It was more of feeling out process to see how we communicated and connected face- to- face. She also had to work very early in the morning making it for early evenings, so we had spent Sunday night getting acquainted, making plans for Monday, and playing with her kitten, Timber. Shelly had discovered Timber in the debris of a fallen tree. She was still too young to survive without nursing, and Shelly had adopted and taken care of her well enough to become the rambunctious ball of energy she is today. They both became local celebrities in the process with a writeup in the local paper.
Monday, we dropped Shelly off at work in Wauseon, about 10- miles west of Delta, just before 7am. For those of you new to the party, I don't do 7am. This fact necessitated a crucial coffee stop. We noticed a little diner in Delta aptly named The Barn; aptly because it used to be one. We had the bottomless coffee and $3.75 breakfast special before driving north to Ann Arbor and the closest REI about 70- miles away.
It was a dreary, and wet as we a finally approached the Michigan state- line and I quipped that we were quite accurate with our March prediction: that we'd be getting to Michigan around the 1st of June. Considering the events of the previous six- weeks, it was dumb luck that we were entering Michigan on June 1st, and it seemed comically ironic that through everything, one of our "plans" had actually worked! Chris pulled over next to the big blue "Welcome to Michigan" sign on state road 109, and we took some pictures of me acting like I was pissing on it. Maturity to the end.
Rural southern Michigan's roads brought back a flood of memories. I began to see things that looked familiar as we drove close to Tecumseh, thru Adrian then eventually down US-12 to Clinton. When we crossed I-94 in Ann Arbor, it finally struck me that I was home. I wasn't sure what to make of that, but I was surprised to find myself rather giddy and even a bit excited; not the typical emotional response.
REI is easy to find, and my intention was to swap out the now- useless Minimalist bivy for the Aurora I had returned in Santa Fe. The problem was that they don't CARRY that model ANYWHERE in Michigan! I was slightly pissed. The only bivy they carried in this impotent REI was the one I had. To top it off, the girl who was "helping" us was a complete Sea-Hag; obviously annoyed that I knew what I wanted and presumed to inconvenience her to... do her job... and help me get it. I quickly accepted the idea that I was either stuck with this near-useless bivy, or I was getting one elsewhere. REI was quickly losing its appeal, so I inconvenienced her again- to give me a full refund.
It's ironic that "Sunshine", while not helpful to us as it pertained to REI, was helpful enough to send our business to some people who appreciated it. She suggested we try Bivouac Ann Arbor, an outfitter located downtown on State Street near the University of Michigan campus. I was astounded to find my backpack from last year IN THE STORE and ON CLEARANCE!! 40% off! Are you kidding me??? The hitch was the hip belt was too large. I need a medium, and wasn't sure they had a replacement that would work for my skinny ass. As I carried it upstairs to ask questions, we met Pam. She told me that she'd put the pack on hold for a week, and put a call into Gregory to see if they had the belt in stock. I figured it was unlikely this would work, but if it did would save me ALOT of money. Plus I was now looking forward to reuniting with REI's Sunshine so I could inconvenience her for another refund. We began to chat with Pam about the trip so far and discovered that we both liked her a great deal. She was about to make my Christmas Card list... and I don't even do Christmas Cards.
I was already liking this store when I found Chris's Alpine bivy in stock and, to my utter glee, it was $20 less than it had been at REI and Pam let on that she would knock another 20 or 25% off the tag. Again, are you KIDDING me?? I immediately told her that if she'd make it 25%, I'd buy it. She agreed, and I had my bivy. A better one than I intended to get from REI, and I got it for $70 LESS! This was turning out to be a pretty good day! Then to top everything off, she said that if a hip belt was found, she'd knock an additional 10% off the backpack, making it half- priced for a brand new pack! Hell, YEAH! THEN, she'd have it shipped to my sister's at no extra cost. Double Hell Yeah!!
I was obviously quite happy as we left the store with my bivy in tow and the pack on hold. I decided that, since it was still early, I would try to contact a couple friends in Jackson about 40- miles west of Ann Arbor. I thought that it would be a good opportunity to see them, and/ or take a quick drive past my old house, and stomping grounds. This worked out quite well as I was able to connect with an old baseball/ drinking buddy, Todd. He and I were quite good friends and it was nice to chat with him at a coffee shop in Jackson.
It was still only 2:00 as we left Jackson for the sticks, and the old house I was raised in. In its heyday, this house was imposing. It was built in 1863 for loggers and had been added- on to giving it a total of 14- rooms. Along with me, my sisters, mother, and grandfather had all either grown up or spent most of their lives there making it something nearly organic for us. I always make this pilgrimage when I'm in the area and have time, despite the fact that it's been abandoned for 15- years and is being reclaimed by nature. It's a powerful practice in perspective. A physical manifestation of the passage of time on display before me. While difficult to see it disintegrating, it still has a centering effect on me. Chris and I explored the place the best we could, taking pictures and making sure we weren't stepping anywhere where the floors may collapse, as has the entire top floor on the west end. My mother still owns the place, and is unable to bring herself to see, or sell it.
We timed this perfectly as we had enough time to get back into Ohio to pick up Shelly with 20- minutes to spare. I had also received the hoped- for call from Pam at Bivouac. The belt was found and already on its way. That meant the next morning, we'd be on our way back to Ann Arbor to return Elmo.
Monday, we dropped Shelly off at work in Wauseon, about 10- miles west of Delta, just before 7am. For those of you new to the party, I don't do 7am. This fact necessitated a crucial coffee stop. We noticed a little diner in Delta aptly named The Barn; aptly because it used to be one. We had the bottomless coffee and $3.75 breakfast special before driving north to Ann Arbor and the closest REI about 70- miles away.
It was a dreary, and wet as we a finally approached the Michigan state- line and I quipped that we were quite accurate with our March prediction: that we'd be getting to Michigan around the 1st of June. Considering the events of the previous six- weeks, it was dumb luck that we were entering Michigan on June 1st, and it seemed comically ironic that through everything, one of our "plans" had actually worked! Chris pulled over next to the big blue "Welcome to Michigan" sign on state road 109, and we took some pictures of me acting like I was pissing on it. Maturity to the end.Rural southern Michigan's roads brought back a flood of memories. I began to see things that looked familiar as we drove close to Tecumseh, thru Adrian then eventually down US-12 to Clinton. When we crossed I-94 in Ann Arbor, it finally struck me that I was home. I wasn't sure what to make of that, but I was surprised to find myself rather giddy and even a bit excited; not the typical emotional response.
REI is easy to find, and my intention was to swap out the now- useless Minimalist bivy for the Aurora I had returned in Santa Fe. The problem was that they don't CARRY that model ANYWHERE in Michigan! I was slightly pissed. The only bivy they carried in this impotent REI was the one I had. To top it off, the girl who was "helping" us was a complete Sea-Hag; obviously annoyed that I knew what I wanted and presumed to inconvenience her to... do her job... and help me get it. I quickly accepted the idea that I was either stuck with this near-useless bivy, or I was getting one elsewhere. REI was quickly losing its appeal, so I inconvenienced her again- to give me a full refund.
It's ironic that "Sunshine", while not helpful to us as it pertained to REI, was helpful enough to send our business to some people who appreciated it. She suggested we try Bivouac Ann Arbor, an outfitter located downtown on State Street near the University of Michigan campus. I was astounded to find my backpack from last year IN THE STORE and ON CLEARANCE!! 40% off! Are you kidding me??? The hitch was the hip belt was too large. I need a medium, and wasn't sure they had a replacement that would work for my skinny ass. As I carried it upstairs to ask questions, we met Pam. She told me that she'd put the pack on hold for a week, and put a call into Gregory to see if they had the belt in stock. I figured it was unlikely this would work, but if it did would save me ALOT of money. Plus I was now looking forward to reuniting with REI's Sunshine so I could inconvenience her for another refund. We began to chat with Pam about the trip so far and discovered that we both liked her a great deal. She was about to make my Christmas Card list... and I don't even do Christmas Cards.
I was already liking this store when I found Chris's Alpine bivy in stock and, to my utter glee, it was $20 less than it had been at REI and Pam let on that she would knock another 20 or 25% off the tag. Again, are you KIDDING me?? I immediately told her that if she'd make it 25%, I'd buy it. She agreed, and I had my bivy. A better one than I intended to get from REI, and I got it for $70 LESS! This was turning out to be a pretty good day! Then to top everything off, she said that if a hip belt was found, she'd knock an additional 10% off the backpack, making it half- priced for a brand new pack! Hell, YEAH! THEN, she'd have it shipped to my sister's at no extra cost. Double Hell Yeah!! 
I was obviously quite happy as we left the store with my bivy in tow and the pack on hold. I decided that, since it was still early, I would try to contact a couple friends in Jackson about 40- miles west of Ann Arbor. I thought that it would be a good opportunity to see them, and/ or take a quick drive past my old house, and stomping grounds. This worked out quite well as I was able to connect with an old baseball/ drinking buddy, Todd. He and I were quite good friends and it was nice to chat with him at a coffee shop in Jackson.
It was still only 2:00 as we left Jackson for the sticks, and the old house I was raised in. In its heyday, this house was imposing. It was built in 1863 for loggers and had been added- on to giving it a total of 14- rooms. Along with me, my sisters, mother, and grandfather had all either grown up or spent most of their lives there making it something nearly organic for us. I always make this pilgrimage when I'm in the area and have time, despite the fact that it's been abandoned for 15- years and is being reclaimed by nature. It's a powerful practice in perspective. A physical manifestation of the passage of time on display before me. While difficult to see it disintegrating, it still has a centering effect on me. Chris and I explored the place the best we could, taking pictures and making sure we weren't stepping anywhere where the floors may collapse, as has the entire top floor on the west end. My mother still owns the place, and is unable to bring herself to see, or sell it.We timed this perfectly as we had enough time to get back into Ohio to pick up Shelly with 20- minutes to spare. I had also received the hoped- for call from Pam at Bivouac. The belt was found and already on its way. That meant the next morning, we'd be on our way back to Ann Arbor to return Elmo.
Labels:
Ann Arbor MI,
Bivouac Ann Arbor,
Bivouac Pam,
Delta OH,
Michigan,
Ohio,
REI,
Shelly
Sunday, March 8, 2009
3/8: Spring Training- Denver
I did indeed make the trip to
We decided that it would be worthwhile for me to arrive Saturday night so we could then go to a “Post- Petroleum” survivalist class Sunday morning. I had nothing going on until my next dental appointment 10- days out, so I planned on staying in Denver through the week so we could work on business cards, the blog, and also get with Eric. The thought began to set on the drive up I-25 that things are REALLY going to change VERY soon, and this would most- likely be my last off- handed trip to Denver. Chris is leaving The Friary on 4/1... and that as they say, is that. He's homeless, and we're underway. That little Capital Hill apartment has seen it's share... that's for sure.
As usual, Chris & I sat up until 2am or so chatting… THEN remembered that Daylight Savings was moving the clocks ahead an hour, making for a short night’s sleep.
We were up and to the class, which was held in a parking lot in an industrial/ Mad Max- ish part of town, by
There were only three of us there, a 20- something girl named Layla in addition to Chris and me, so we had a good opportunity to bat ideas around. Robert mentioned possibly taking a “field- trip” into the mountains to focus on hunting & fishing, which obviously appealed to us. Anything to cut food expenses. These classes are held every Sunday, and it seemed like a great idea to stick around long enough, if possible, to get another one in before my March 17th dental appointment in
Robert is an interesting person who has a distinct “edge” about him. I sensed that we would get along quite well, to a point, but that we’d likely clash eventually. We are alike in many ways; the same ways that may make our differences clash, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. He is planning to hit the road himself in the spring, and I would be interested to see what happens to him.
The weather was incredible, near 70 and sunny by the time we were done with the class at
My military surplus bivy is a bit… creepy. It has no bug- netting, and after the spider- den in
Chris wound up with a magnesium/ flint combo and mosquito netting, and I discovered that REI was finally stocking the shoe- inserts I had bought last year in
Chris had to work at
To save time, I unpacked everything I had brought from New Mexico, mostly clothes and
tools, so that we could do a brainstorm and decide what we needed and did not. This is a rather important process obviously, and we had been talking about doing this since early winter. Once he got home, it went very well, and Chris decided to take the Kelty backpack that I had bought on eBay. It actually is quite a good pack… and huge! Vern Troyer could hitch a ride!
After a few hours (and a huge mess), we had the
packs ready to go. It felt good to go thru that process
again… and for real! We got to bed around 2 or 3, with no
real plan for the next day… figuring we’d wing it.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
8/28 - 9/14 Santa Fe
What an odd few weeks it has been. I spent the first two doing absolutely nothing, other than reacquainting myself with the internet again, writing, reading, and playing the part of the recluse.
Initially, it was actually nice to be back here. I had grandiose ideas of getting back to work and preparing to pack money away for the Latin American Adventure that is on the way... soon. I had some nagging points of friction in my mind however about trying to save thousands of dollars to do this. Money as it turned out was my major source of irritation this summer, and my primary failure was in the fact that I never really got to the point where I was learning to do with significantly less and how to generate fresh cash while out there; and there WERE opportunities to do that! I just... didn’t.
Chris and I had several lengthy conversations, and after initially thinking that he may decide against it, he has now committed to whatever this turns out to be. It turns out that, not surprisingly, we have come to the same money- page, how it relates to Mexico, then Central & South America. Less is more. Rather than talking in terms with three zeroes, it is now in the hundreds, as a means to force ourselves to be more creative, thrifty, and concentrate on eliminating excess... bullshit. Most people are probably horrified by the thought, but we both have seen the possibilities first- hand, and for me it is a matter of discipline and focus... like everything else. This trip is shaping up to begin, at least when the two of us meet up anyhow, in December or January. Much more on that at another time.
9/11 came and went again and as always, it is a point of scorn for me as we all watch the melodrama presented to us through the media, and wallow in self- pity. No one bothers to stop and reflect on how that event itself is a weapon; an instrument of terror itself. Just remember Rudi Giuliani and his every other word. What has happened since 9/11, in this country AND Iraq, is worse than the event itself. Only American self- absorbed arrogance, a spoiled self- pity, and complacency prevents us from seeing the obvious. If you have not yet, check out the audio on the right- hand side of the page. 9/11, and the economic events of the past few weeks remind me of one of the best books I have read: Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein. Find a copy; read it. You're living it.
The best radio show I ever did was on 9/11 in 2007. That show was the beginning of the end for me. The cheap bastards didn't even have a simple tape recorder for me to archive it, so like Hitler's in "Contact", my voice is simply left floating off toward Vega. I even took my own tape recorder in to let them hook it up. It sat in the same spot for 2 ½ months until I was fired! Ahhh... radio....
Chris rented a car and drove down here on 9/11. We sat up into the wee hours of the morning chatting, and we traded stuff; him bringing the things I had left there, and me returning the bivy, water filter, boca bag, etc. That stuff was a huge help! I also learned that, inspired by my return- spree, he had returned his old shoes to REI and had a brand new- spiffy pair. I was immediately jealous!
We spent Friday running around, highlighted by a trip to the grand opening of the Santa Fe REI. Of course the radio station was there trying to be all ‘live n’ local’, so for shits and giggles, I led Chris into a den of awkwardness… for one of them anyhow. I had not seen this particular sales- pig since they fired me, and though she would never admit it to my face, she despises me. I annoyed her by telling her to take her live endorsements for Qwest, McDonald’s, whoever, and shove them… even though they were paid. She is the type who reassures herself with “you gotta serve somebody.” Whenever I heard her say that, I thought, “That would be a good mantra in prison.” I don’t see much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. I would rather be shanked. I guess I was.
I bounded right over to the table and there she was, strapping on the plastic smiling face with a full serving of the generic platitudes I had heard 100- times with her clients. My old PD was there too. I had not seen him since shortly after the owner fired me either. He gave me a big ol’ hug, and while he was, I was asking myself “If we’re such good friends, why were you so quiet when they were axing me… buddy?”
I do not trust people who claim to have hundreds of friends because, well… they don’t. We all have acquaintances, co- workers, and people we use for networking and furthering our interests. That is inescapable. Yet, friends are loyal, and do not sit idly by out of convenience or self- preservation, while you are thrown under a bus. The rest of them will, and that’s fine. However, don’t embarrass yourself by professing your love for me later on! They say that if you want to find out who your friends are, ask them to help you move. I like the redneck method better: go to battle and see who lines up behind you. THESE are your friends. The rest are just memories waiting to happen. Keep your relativism, hippie. I've heard it all before.
God, I love anything authentic!
Friday night, we watched a few movies and he returned to Denver Saturday morning. A quick trip to be sure. We managed to keep busy enough that we did not dwell on the upcoming trip too much, but it was never far beneath the surface.
The longer I was here, the more I began to realize that I miss traveling. I am no longer domesticated. I never have been, but it is worse. I have next to no interest in participating in anything in Santa Fe, and it took me two- weeks to call anyone I knew.
My personal writing has always been a refuge for me, but now that is no haven. I tried, with some success, to gain some clarity and perspective after I returned, but it was a disappointment. I had most of the conclusions before I came back! The writing has since turned into a simple annoyance because I seem to be writing the same things repeatedly; shit I have written a thousand times before. In the end? It's feeling like a bunch of self- absorbed bullshit, because now I have some experience to add perspective. One of my favorite quotes from Thoreau says something to the effect that it is quite vain to sit down and write when you have yet to stand up and live. Alot of writing going on this month. Living? Not so much.
I know this is temporary; everyone knows that. I only wish I were making better use of the time. The answer is not to ‘get a job’. I am quite certain that I would be fired, or walk out within a couple of days, and that does not bother me at all. The answer is to find cash- work with someone that doesn’t annoy me with all the “ladder- climbing” career- bullshit.
After 9/15, I would be more certain of that than ever.
Initially, it was actually nice to be back here. I had grandiose ideas of getting back to work and preparing to pack money away for the Latin American Adventure that is on the way... soon. I had some nagging points of friction in my mind however about trying to save thousands of dollars to do this. Money as it turned out was my major source of irritation this summer, and my primary failure was in the fact that I never really got to the point where I was learning to do with significantly less and how to generate fresh cash while out there; and there WERE opportunities to do that! I just... didn’t.
Chris and I had several lengthy conversations, and after initially thinking that he may decide against it, he has now committed to whatever this turns out to be. It turns out that, not surprisingly, we have come to the same money- page, how it relates to Mexico, then Central & South America. Less is more. Rather than talking in terms with three zeroes, it is now in the hundreds, as a means to force ourselves to be more creative, thrifty, and concentrate on eliminating excess... bullshit. Most people are probably horrified by the thought, but we both have seen the possibilities first- hand, and for me it is a matter of discipline and focus... like everything else. This trip is shaping up to begin, at least when the two of us meet up anyhow, in December or January. Much more on that at another time.
9/11 came and went again and as always, it is a point of scorn for me as we all watch the melodrama presented to us through the media, and wallow in self- pity. No one bothers to stop and reflect on how that event itself is a weapon; an instrument of terror itself. Just remember Rudi Giuliani and his every other word. What has happened since 9/11, in this country AND Iraq, is worse than the event itself. Only American self- absorbed arrogance, a spoiled self- pity, and complacency prevents us from seeing the obvious. If you have not yet, check out the audio on the right- hand side of the page. 9/11, and the economic events of the past few weeks remind me of one of the best books I have read: Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein. Find a copy; read it. You're living it.
The best radio show I ever did was on 9/11 in 2007. That show was the beginning of the end for me. The cheap bastards didn't even have a simple tape recorder for me to archive it, so like Hitler's in "Contact", my voice is simply left floating off toward Vega. I even took my own tape recorder in to let them hook it up. It sat in the same spot for 2 ½ months until I was fired! Ahhh... radio....
Chris rented a car and drove down here on 9/11. We sat up into the wee hours of the morning chatting, and we traded stuff; him bringing the things I had left there, and me returning the bivy, water filter, boca bag, etc. That stuff was a huge help! I also learned that, inspired by my return- spree, he had returned his old shoes to REI and had a brand new- spiffy pair. I was immediately jealous!
We spent Friday running around, highlighted by a trip to the grand opening of the Santa Fe REI. Of course the radio station was there trying to be all ‘live n’ local’, so for shits and giggles, I led Chris into a den of awkwardness… for one of them anyhow. I had not seen this particular sales- pig since they fired me, and though she would never admit it to my face, she despises me. I annoyed her by telling her to take her live endorsements for Qwest, McDonald’s, whoever, and shove them… even though they were paid. She is the type who reassures herself with “you gotta serve somebody.” Whenever I heard her say that, I thought, “That would be a good mantra in prison.” I don’t see much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. I would rather be shanked. I guess I was.
I bounded right over to the table and there she was, strapping on the plastic smiling face with a full serving of the generic platitudes I had heard 100- times with her clients. My old PD was there too. I had not seen him since shortly after the owner fired me either. He gave me a big ol’ hug, and while he was, I was asking myself “If we’re such good friends, why were you so quiet when they were axing me… buddy?”
I do not trust people who claim to have hundreds of friends because, well… they don’t. We all have acquaintances, co- workers, and people we use for networking and furthering our interests. That is inescapable. Yet, friends are loyal, and do not sit idly by out of convenience or self- preservation, while you are thrown under a bus. The rest of them will, and that’s fine. However, don’t embarrass yourself by professing your love for me later on! They say that if you want to find out who your friends are, ask them to help you move. I like the redneck method better: go to battle and see who lines up behind you. THESE are your friends. The rest are just memories waiting to happen. Keep your relativism, hippie. I've heard it all before.
God, I love anything authentic!
Friday night, we watched a few movies and he returned to Denver Saturday morning. A quick trip to be sure. We managed to keep busy enough that we did not dwell on the upcoming trip too much, but it was never far beneath the surface.
The longer I was here, the more I began to realize that I miss traveling. I am no longer domesticated. I never have been, but it is worse. I have next to no interest in participating in anything in Santa Fe, and it took me two- weeks to call anyone I knew.
My personal writing has always been a refuge for me, but now that is no haven. I tried, with some success, to gain some clarity and perspective after I returned, but it was a disappointment. I had most of the conclusions before I came back! The writing has since turned into a simple annoyance because I seem to be writing the same things repeatedly; shit I have written a thousand times before. In the end? It's feeling like a bunch of self- absorbed bullshit, because now I have some experience to add perspective. One of my favorite quotes from Thoreau says something to the effect that it is quite vain to sit down and write when you have yet to stand up and live. Alot of writing going on this month. Living? Not so much.
I know this is temporary; everyone knows that. I only wish I were making better use of the time. The answer is not to ‘get a job’. I am quite certain that I would be fired, or walk out within a couple of days, and that does not bother me at all. The answer is to find cash- work with someone that doesn’t annoy me with all the “ladder- climbing” career- bullshit.
After 9/15, I would be more certain of that than ever.
Labels:
9/11,
Chris,
Financial "Crisis",
Mexico,
New Mexico,
REI,
Santa Fe,
South America Trip
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
8/26 & 8/27 Nashville to Santa Fe
Kim and I were at the bus terminal early… very early… to assure that I would not be shut out due to Greyhound’s notorious policy of overselling, leaving those at the end of the line to wait for the next bus. I threw the pack onto the floor behind the two people who had gotten there before me, chatted with a couple of young women going to Clarksville, and finally boarded the bus when it arrived… an hour and a half late.
The bus went through northern Tennessee, into eastern Kentucky, the extreme southern end of Indiana (Evansville), then thru southern Illinois into St. Louis. I had some graphic memories of the St. Louis terminal from a trip to Asheville a few years ago, and was initially pleased to learn that they had, just the week before, opened a new station. It was nice. Clean. Sterile. Creepy. It resembled something directly out of a futuristic totalitarian- state film! There was a definite presence of over- the- top security, and as I went through only the SECOND security checkpoint I have ever seen (Albuquerque being the other), I remember thinking that this is what I imagine Fascism smells like. Feels like. We were required, once inside, to remain in line and if we whose to smoke we were ordered to completely leave the property, cross the street, and go back through security. I have never understood searching people who have just gotten off another bus, and the attitudes of the Brown Shirts reminded me of something I had seen on “Lockup”. I was seething as I compared today to 10, 15, and 20 years ago. The experience was topped off by a rather poor, dirty, young woman sitting on the floor wailing because the Brown Shirts had told her she was not going allowed on her bus because of something she had “said” to the security thugs. Her kid was crawling all over her wondering what was wrong. By the time I got on the bus I was fuming… barely beneath the surface. In the end the woman did board the bus, but the whole thing reminded me of a totalitarian “run through”. I hope I never set foot in that shithole again.
Of course, the St. Louis- Los Angeles bus was overcrowded. Very overcrowded. I have figured out that one of the benefits of working for the Dirty Dog is access to free rides. I have seen as many as four employees just riding along, in full costume, and this was no exception. There was an employee sitting in the front seat, with the seat next to his empty, while the rest of the bus was filled past capacity, meaning some had to stand. This route passed through Ft. Leonard Wood, MO thus there were GIs on board, and one of these had to either stand or sit on the floor… in uniform. I was still steaming from my Nazi- experience beneath the Gateway Arch, and not in a mood to keep my mouth shut. I began pointing out—loudly—to the people sitting around me that there was a serviceman sitting on the floor, while this employee who was either riding “space available” or working-- getting paid-- was sitting in the front row isolated in a little bubble. The other passengers expressed their displeasure as well, but the employee did not budge. I decided that it was best in this situation to shut up and go to sleep. I was tap-dancing around the edge of trouble… and being bounced off this cattle- car myself.
I slept on and off, and had a very interesting political conversation with a guy from Arkansas. He was returning from his summer job in Pennsylvania to his winter job in Arkansas. He and I agreed on many things and he had noticed the “Big Brother” feel back in St. Louis as well. He had even worked for a carnival for a few weeks, and had some of the same experiences as I. When he got off the bus in Joplin, I was shocked to realize that he was MAYBE 4’9”. He conversed much bigger. Later on I chatted briefly with a South African woman about the non- existent customer service with Greyhound. She pointed out, accurately, that it was due to the monopoly the have on bus- travel. If there were ANY competition, or if Amtrak was closer cost- wise, I would never touch another Greyhound and neither would any of the people I have talked with. It’s pretty pathetic when the occasional driver expresses embarrassment about it, as the driver from Nashville to St. Louis had.
The rest of the ride was as any other. Boring. We got to Oklahoma City shortly before dawn, and then it was on to Amarillo. From Amarillo to Albuquerque I had the privilege of listening to the young man behind tell how insane he is; how he suffers from paranoia, and schizophrenia, and that he had been in jail a “shitload.” And… he liked guns. I chatted with Chris a bit, and finally heard from Ken too. He said that he had lost the charger to his phone, and since my number was in there, had no way to let me know that things had changed. In no way did I believe him but honestly, it did not matter! He had done enough already, and I knew that there was a slight risk in going to Atlanta to meet him. It was a risk/ reward decision, and I lost. I did not like what had happened, but it seemed ludicrous to be mad at him.
As we got closer to Albuquerque, the realization that the trip was essentially over began to set in, and I rather enjoyed the solitary time to reflect on everything that has happened since May. It has been quite a summer, and now the prospects for the winter began to take center stage. Mexico. South America. Getting there.
The bus was close to on- schedule for once and I arrived in Albuquerque shortly after 4:30. Shalain picked me up, and that was that.
We made a b- line for the Albuquerque REI so I could return the shoes, backpack, unused rain fly, and the shoe- inserts they had sold me in San Francisco. As expected, I had attached myself to the shoes and the backpack! We had been through a lot and I hated to see them go, but had long since realized that I did not need a pack that large, and that the shoes were probably overkill.
The lead up to the trip had been maddening in the sense that I could NOT decide on a backpack for the life of me. I had gotten the Gregory at the last minute when I found it at the Denver REI for at about half- price. I began to realize that the old Coleman external- frame pack I already owned would have worked fine. From here on it may serve me better in the sense that it is older, and less flashy; less of a target. The shoes were entirely too expensive, and I already had a pair of German Army surplus boots that were not as fancy (or as comfortable), but had only cost me $15. I decided to see if I could make them work. I was also thrilled to learn that the Santa Fe REI was opening in about 2- weeks meaning NO more driving to Albuquerque for stuff!
Once I got home, I mentally exhaled. I needed some time to process everything, and deal with nagging feelings of disappointment and failure. Todd being Todd. The time in Randleman with the church- folk had been nagging me a bit, and I wanted some time to compartmentalize it.
I remember wondering while in Oregon how this trip would end, and how I would look back on it. Now I know. The next few weeks would be a mixed- bag, and although I hoped that through reflection I would feel that metaphorical “lightning bolt of enlightenment”, I knew better. I was curious to get back to familiar, comfortable surroundings, not only to relax, but to see how I had changed. I enjoy playing the part of the guinea pig.
The bus went through northern Tennessee, into eastern Kentucky, the extreme southern end of Indiana (Evansville), then thru southern Illinois into St. Louis. I had some graphic memories of the St. Louis terminal from a trip to Asheville a few years ago, and was initially pleased to learn that they had, just the week before, opened a new station. It was nice. Clean. Sterile. Creepy. It resembled something directly out of a futuristic totalitarian- state film! There was a definite presence of over- the- top security, and as I went through only the SECOND security checkpoint I have ever seen (Albuquerque being the other), I remember thinking that this is what I imagine Fascism smells like. Feels like. We were required, once inside, to remain in line and if we whose to smoke we were ordered to completely leave the property, cross the street, and go back through security. I have never understood searching people who have just gotten off another bus, and the attitudes of the Brown Shirts reminded me of something I had seen on “Lockup”. I was seething as I compared today to 10, 15, and 20 years ago. The experience was topped off by a rather poor, dirty, young woman sitting on the floor wailing because the Brown Shirts had told her she was not going allowed on her bus because of something she had “said” to the security thugs. Her kid was crawling all over her wondering what was wrong. By the time I got on the bus I was fuming… barely beneath the surface. In the end the woman did board the bus, but the whole thing reminded me of a totalitarian “run through”. I hope I never set foot in that shithole again.
Of course, the St. Louis- Los Angeles bus was overcrowded. Very overcrowded. I have figured out that one of the benefits of working for the Dirty Dog is access to free rides. I have seen as many as four employees just riding along, in full costume, and this was no exception. There was an employee sitting in the front seat, with the seat next to his empty, while the rest of the bus was filled past capacity, meaning some had to stand. This route passed through Ft. Leonard Wood, MO thus there were GIs on board, and one of these had to either stand or sit on the floor… in uniform. I was still steaming from my Nazi- experience beneath the Gateway Arch, and not in a mood to keep my mouth shut. I began pointing out—loudly—to the people sitting around me that there was a serviceman sitting on the floor, while this employee who was either riding “space available” or working-- getting paid-- was sitting in the front row isolated in a little bubble. The other passengers expressed their displeasure as well, but the employee did not budge. I decided that it was best in this situation to shut up and go to sleep. I was tap-dancing around the edge of trouble… and being bounced off this cattle- car myself.
I slept on and off, and had a very interesting political conversation with a guy from Arkansas. He was returning from his summer job in Pennsylvania to his winter job in Arkansas. He and I agreed on many things and he had noticed the “Big Brother” feel back in St. Louis as well. He had even worked for a carnival for a few weeks, and had some of the same experiences as I. When he got off the bus in Joplin, I was shocked to realize that he was MAYBE 4’9”. He conversed much bigger. Later on I chatted briefly with a South African woman about the non- existent customer service with Greyhound. She pointed out, accurately, that it was due to the monopoly the have on bus- travel. If there were ANY competition, or if Amtrak was closer cost- wise, I would never touch another Greyhound and neither would any of the people I have talked with. It’s pretty pathetic when the occasional driver expresses embarrassment about it, as the driver from Nashville to St. Louis had.
The rest of the ride was as any other. Boring. We got to Oklahoma City shortly before dawn, and then it was on to Amarillo. From Amarillo to Albuquerque I had the privilege of listening to the young man behind tell how insane he is; how he suffers from paranoia, and schizophrenia, and that he had been in jail a “shitload.” And… he liked guns. I chatted with Chris a bit, and finally heard from Ken too. He said that he had lost the charger to his phone, and since my number was in there, had no way to let me know that things had changed. In no way did I believe him but honestly, it did not matter! He had done enough already, and I knew that there was a slight risk in going to Atlanta to meet him. It was a risk/ reward decision, and I lost. I did not like what had happened, but it seemed ludicrous to be mad at him.
As we got closer to Albuquerque, the realization that the trip was essentially over began to set in, and I rather enjoyed the solitary time to reflect on everything that has happened since May. It has been quite a summer, and now the prospects for the winter began to take center stage. Mexico. South America. Getting there.
The bus was close to on- schedule for once and I arrived in Albuquerque shortly after 4:30. Shalain picked me up, and that was that.
We made a b- line for the Albuquerque REI so I could return the shoes, backpack, unused rain fly, and the shoe- inserts they had sold me in San Francisco. As expected, I had attached myself to the shoes and the backpack! We had been through a lot and I hated to see them go, but had long since realized that I did not need a pack that large, and that the shoes were probably overkill.
The lead up to the trip had been maddening in the sense that I could NOT decide on a backpack for the life of me. I had gotten the Gregory at the last minute when I found it at the Denver REI for at about half- price. I began to realize that the old Coleman external- frame pack I already owned would have worked fine. From here on it may serve me better in the sense that it is older, and less flashy; less of a target. The shoes were entirely too expensive, and I already had a pair of German Army surplus boots that were not as fancy (or as comfortable), but had only cost me $15. I decided to see if I could make them work. I was also thrilled to learn that the Santa Fe REI was opening in about 2- weeks meaning NO more driving to Albuquerque for stuff!
Once I got home, I mentally exhaled. I needed some time to process everything, and deal with nagging feelings of disappointment and failure. Todd being Todd. The time in Randleman with the church- folk had been nagging me a bit, and I wanted some time to compartmentalize it.
I remember wondering while in Oregon how this trip would end, and how I would look back on it. Now I know. The next few weeks would be a mixed- bag, and although I hoped that through reflection I would feel that metaphorical “lightning bolt of enlightenment”, I knew better. I was curious to get back to familiar, comfortable surroundings, not only to relax, but to see how I had changed. I enjoy playing the part of the guinea pig.
Labels:
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Amarillo,
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Greyhound Customer Service,
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Indiana,
Joplin MO,
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Kim,
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Nashville,
New Mexico,
Oklahoma City,
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St. Louis,
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Texas
Monday, August 11, 2008
8/11 Denver V: "'Plans' of Mice & Men"
Monday morning and early afternoon was spent working and trying to figure out this next step. Eric offered to let me stay at his place for the night so I could catch the 10:30 am bus to Santa Fe on Tuesday, if need- be.
Some people may be a bit confused, and with good reason. I had a plan when I arrived in Denver from Idaho almost a month ago, but somewhere along the way, the inspiration and motivation to go to New York City and Maine had left me, if it was really ever there at all. I have never been a big fan of NYC, and have already spent a small amount of time there, in Brooklyn during the anti- war march in 3/03. I have no interest in enduring a “San Francisco on Steroids” experience. In retrospect the idea was probably a temporary sedative to allow me to focus on the real purpose of this interlude. I DO want to see New Hampshire and Vermont, and I will. I just don’t feel a compelling urge to do it now.
So, on went the day. I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I was returning to New Mexico for lack of a better plan, figuring that I could get to work on stashing money for this winter’s trip south.
The problem was that there was only ONE bus from Denver toward Albuquerque per day, when there used to be FOUR, and I‘d missed it. That meant I had to hang out at Eric’s, or in the woods, until morning. I tried to contact Greyhound to inquire about the AAU “Americanos Americana” line that they list on their website. It goes to Albuquerque, with a stop in Santa Fe, at 6:30 every evening. However, that route does NOT seem to offer the option of getting OFF the bus in Santa Fe! I got no answer during the entire 40 minutes I tried to contact them. This coupled with Greyhound’s blatant disdain for ANY other kind of customer service, AND the fact that they were raising their fares AND cutting their routes … I began to become irritable. (Shocking I know) I used to enjoy Greyhound, despite the fact that I seem to be the ONLY one! Now it just seems like cattle- car service.
I finally gave up and decided to try to call my trucker- friends, Ken and Cesar, to see if by chance they were near, or would be near, Denver. I got a hold of Ken and was amazed, shocked, and floored by the fact that he was back in Idaho, and on his way back to Tampa. Through Denver. THE NEXT DAY. He told me that he was headed through Nashville to drop off a load, and that I could either ride there, or all the way to Tampa if I liked. I had no clue what to tell him; he said to get in the truck and decide on the way.
I was NOT returning to Santa Fe. This phase of the trip would continue.
The term coincidence was mentioned, and then brutally mocked. This made this Denver ‘experience’ feel like a longer, drawn out rerun of McCammon, and not just because it would again be Ken that I was leaving with. Denver was a bit of a struggle this time, mostly of my own cause. I spent the day stressing about ‘what I’m going to do’, and again, the solution presented itself- in its own time. I didn’t talk a lot about this, but it occupied my mind for most of the night. A lesson I just can’t seem to learn.
Ken set into motion a strange, quick moving chain of events. I had already finished packing and arranging a ride with Eric to his house, then Chris and I devised a plan where I would serve as a Bivy Guinea Pig. For those that don’t know, a bivy is essentially a waterproof sleeping bag cover that also covers your head. They usually weigh about a third to a quarter that of a normal tent, and take MUCH less space. The downside is, of course, that you can’t sit up, nor can you place the pack INSIDE with you, meaning that a more elaborate rain- fly system is needed to keep it from getting water- logged in the inevitable downpour.
We walked down to REI and put an Outdoor Research ‘Alpine’ 4- season bivy on his credit card. REI’s got the best return policy possible. If you’re not satisfied for any reason at ANY time, bring it back for a full exchange or refund. (I pity the price- gauging ’local’ outdoor- store in Santa Fe when the REI finally gets built!) I could take it east, get rained on, and if my review was satisfactory we would get another before South America. If it blows, return it with no damage done. A fine plan indeed.
Removing the tent made a huge difference. Suddenly the backpack was not only lighter, but suddenly cavernous! I could now downgrade the pack, but thought it’s better to have too much room than not enough. Also, I could add another pair of pants and STILL be lighter. As I was about to leave for Eric’s, we weighed the pack in at 43#.
Considering I left Denver on May 20th with the same pack weighing 55#, I’m quite thrilled. I also discovered that, for the first time since HIGH SCHOOL, I was below 160# myself! I have dropped 45 pounds in the last 15 months, and 30 in the last 4 alone. Yes… I AM proud, thank you.
Chris and I said our goodbyes and it was off to Eric’s place after a trip to McDonald’s and to the Skylark Lounge on Broadway for some PBR and a final rant- fest. This is in the neighborhood we lived in when we left Denver last summer, and it was nice to be back there hanging out. I love Capital Hill too, but it’s a bit ‘hip’ for me.
We got back to Eric’s place, and since Ken wasn’t going to be arriving until 4:30- ish the next day, I had one more day to work. I slept on his floor… and like a stone.
Some people may be a bit confused, and with good reason. I had a plan when I arrived in Denver from Idaho almost a month ago, but somewhere along the way, the inspiration and motivation to go to New York City and Maine had left me, if it was really ever there at all. I have never been a big fan of NYC, and have already spent a small amount of time there, in Brooklyn during the anti- war march in 3/03. I have no interest in enduring a “San Francisco on Steroids” experience. In retrospect the idea was probably a temporary sedative to allow me to focus on the real purpose of this interlude. I DO want to see New Hampshire and Vermont, and I will. I just don’t feel a compelling urge to do it now.
So, on went the day. I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I was returning to New Mexico for lack of a better plan, figuring that I could get to work on stashing money for this winter’s trip south.
The problem was that there was only ONE bus from Denver toward Albuquerque per day, when there used to be FOUR, and I‘d missed it. That meant I had to hang out at Eric’s, or in the woods, until morning. I tried to contact Greyhound to inquire about the AAU “Americanos Americana” line that they list on their website. It goes to Albuquerque, with a stop in Santa Fe, at 6:30 every evening. However, that route does NOT seem to offer the option of getting OFF the bus in Santa Fe! I got no answer during the entire 40 minutes I tried to contact them. This coupled with Greyhound’s blatant disdain for ANY other kind of customer service, AND the fact that they were raising their fares AND cutting their routes … I began to become irritable. (Shocking I know) I used to enjoy Greyhound, despite the fact that I seem to be the ONLY one! Now it just seems like cattle- car service.
I finally gave up and decided to try to call my trucker- friends, Ken and Cesar, to see if by chance they were near, or would be near, Denver. I got a hold of Ken and was amazed, shocked, and floored by the fact that he was back in Idaho, and on his way back to Tampa. Through Denver. THE NEXT DAY. He told me that he was headed through Nashville to drop off a load, and that I could either ride there, or all the way to Tampa if I liked. I had no clue what to tell him; he said to get in the truck and decide on the way.
I was NOT returning to Santa Fe. This phase of the trip would continue.
The term coincidence was mentioned, and then brutally mocked. This made this Denver ‘experience’ feel like a longer, drawn out rerun of McCammon, and not just because it would again be Ken that I was leaving with. Denver was a bit of a struggle this time, mostly of my own cause. I spent the day stressing about ‘what I’m going to do’, and again, the solution presented itself- in its own time. I didn’t talk a lot about this, but it occupied my mind for most of the night. A lesson I just can’t seem to learn.
Ken set into motion a strange, quick moving chain of events. I had already finished packing and arranging a ride with Eric to his house, then Chris and I devised a plan where I would serve as a Bivy Guinea Pig. For those that don’t know, a bivy is essentially a waterproof sleeping bag cover that also covers your head. They usually weigh about a third to a quarter that of a normal tent, and take MUCH less space. The downside is, of course, that you can’t sit up, nor can you place the pack INSIDE with you, meaning that a more elaborate rain- fly system is needed to keep it from getting water- logged in the inevitable downpour.
We walked down to REI and put an Outdoor Research ‘Alpine’ 4- season bivy on his credit card. REI’s got the best return policy possible. If you’re not satisfied for any reason at ANY time, bring it back for a full exchange or refund. (I pity the price- gauging ’local’ outdoor- store in Santa Fe when the REI finally gets built!) I could take it east, get rained on, and if my review was satisfactory we would get another before South America. If it blows, return it with no damage done. A fine plan indeed.
I had called & sent emails to two friends: Kim in Nashville and Nikki in Tampa. I had a pretty good indication of how this was going to go after I called Nikki and someone, who sounded an AWFUL lot like her, answered but said that they weren't Nikki and didn't know who she was! I had left Kim a voicemail, and she returned the call on the walk back from REI. She said I could stay with her for a day or two on Nashville, and to just let her know if I decided to. Nikki emailed me back later claiming that her number had NOT changed, yet no one had called and she didn't know what I was talking about! O...K then.
Removing the tent made a huge difference. Suddenly the backpack was not only lighter, but suddenly cavernous! I could now downgrade the pack, but thought it’s better to have too much room than not enough. Also, I could add another pair of pants and STILL be lighter. As I was about to leave for Eric’s, we weighed the pack in at 43#.
Considering I left Denver on May 20th with the same pack weighing 55#, I’m quite thrilled. I also discovered that, for the first time since HIGH SCHOOL, I was below 160# myself! I have dropped 45 pounds in the last 15 months, and 30 in the last 4 alone. Yes… I AM proud, thank you.Chris and I said our goodbyes and it was off to Eric’s place after a trip to McDonald’s and to the Skylark Lounge on Broadway for some PBR and a final rant- fest. This is in the neighborhood we lived in when we left Denver last summer, and it was nice to be back there hanging out. I love Capital Hill too, but it’s a bit ‘hip’ for me.
We got back to Eric’s place, and since Ken wasn’t going to be arriving until 4:30- ish the next day, I had one more day to work. I slept on his floor… and like a stone.
Labels:
Denver,
eric,
Greyhound Customer Service,
Ken,
Nashville,
New York City,
REI
Sunday, August 10, 2008
8/10 Denver V: Coming to an End
Today was a day of preparing to move on. Not alot to mention other than a quick trip to REI and a decision to leave... for somewhere... Monday evening, rather than Tuesday. As things stand right now, I still have NO idea where that may be! There are 3 options as I see it: Santa Fe, toward the eastern seaboard, or perhaps Florida. The thought of another 8- hour Greyhound rides takes me to the brink of nausea, but I'm not so sure I want to head all the way out east at this point and Florida? Ugh...
The Mexico/ South America trip has been consuming me a bit more over the last week or so, and I'm seriously considering sucking it up for the next few months to gather everything that's needed for it. I've decided to lighten the gear for this trip and eliminate the full- tent in favor of a bivy- tent, which wont be cheap. Neither will the added water purification equipment that will obviously be needed down there, especially in Mexico. It's not lost on me that my Spanish... well, WHAT Spanish?! ? Need to work on that.
This is just a consideration however, and I detest the idea of returning to Santa Fe so soon. There's a very good likelihood that I'll just walk or ride out of Denver... wherever. Maybe I'll pay a visit to the rail yard. Maybe I'll just hitch it toward Ft. Morgan or Cheyenne again. Maybe Kansas. I CAN say this for certain: it will NOT be toward Utah! I'm going to try to contact Ken and Cesar tomorrow to see where they are; if they happen to be this side of the Mississippi, it could get quite interesting.
Where will I go? I guess I really don't care. That's the bitch about freedom: deciding. I've said that too many times. I could flip a coin, or maybe I'll dig the dice out of my backpack again. I'm open for suggestions. Leave a comment, or shoot me an email if you have one; I'd love to hear some ideas.
I feel compelled to put a bow on this trip to Denver, but I don't know that I can. It's been humbling, frustrating, eye- opening, educational, disturbing, encouraging, invigorating and tedious (and too often intoxicating) all at once. I'm sure that some of the insights I've gained here will be useful in time; I hope so. I never intended to stay in Denver two full weeks, and that's frustrating. However, the point was to alleviate the money issues, and I've exceeded my expectation in that regard. I said I stayed too long with Florian, then Eric & Marine, and then Dave too. Is anyone surprised?
I want to thank Friar Chris for his extended hospitality. He is a great friend and was a wonderful host. We had some great times while I was here. The conversations and insights we exchanged were remarkable, deep, intense, AND exhaustive! It's these sorts of exchanges that really work a mind. The kind that are two- sided and original, rather than dictated from quotation and interpreted.
Eric deserves a thank you also. Working with him isn't 'work'; the days filled with the same kinds of observation, debate, and insight from a unique perspective are priceless. The fact I get paid mildly astounds me when I think about it, although I shouldn't say that until he DOES pay me tomorrow! Eric's been a great, loyal friend to me over the past few years, and I'm sure he's calling me a 'homo' for saying so, but it's true. I appreciate it, and it needs to be said more often.
Redneck!
Also, for those of you who are getting the email updates and maybe haven't been to the homepage lately, I've added a few more things including links to Kinga and Chris's travel pages, as well as a few other little nicknack's, so stop by and poke around once in a while... and sign the damn guestbook!
I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again; MAYBE Monday if work ends early enough. I'll let you know what I decide then, if possible. If not... stay tuned!
The Mexico/ South America trip has been consuming me a bit more over the last week or so, and I'm seriously considering sucking it up for the next few months to gather everything that's needed for it. I've decided to lighten the gear for this trip and eliminate the full- tent in favor of a bivy- tent, which wont be cheap. Neither will the added water purification equipment that will obviously be needed down there, especially in Mexico. It's not lost on me that my Spanish... well, WHAT Spanish?! ? Need to work on that.
This is just a consideration however, and I detest the idea of returning to Santa Fe so soon. There's a very good likelihood that I'll just walk or ride out of Denver... wherever. Maybe I'll pay a visit to the rail yard. Maybe I'll just hitch it toward Ft. Morgan or Cheyenne again. Maybe Kansas. I CAN say this for certain: it will NOT be toward Utah! I'm going to try to contact Ken and Cesar tomorrow to see where they are; if they happen to be this side of the Mississippi, it could get quite interesting.
Where will I go? I guess I really don't care. That's the bitch about freedom: deciding. I've said that too many times. I could flip a coin, or maybe I'll dig the dice out of my backpack again. I'm open for suggestions. Leave a comment, or shoot me an email if you have one; I'd love to hear some ideas.
I feel compelled to put a bow on this trip to Denver, but I don't know that I can. It's been humbling, frustrating, eye- opening, educational, disturbing, encouraging, invigorating and tedious (and too often intoxicating) all at once. I'm sure that some of the insights I've gained here will be useful in time; I hope so. I never intended to stay in Denver two full weeks, and that's frustrating. However, the point was to alleviate the money issues, and I've exceeded my expectation in that regard. I said I stayed too long with Florian, then Eric & Marine, and then Dave too. Is anyone surprised?
I want to thank Friar Chris for his extended hospitality. He is a great friend and was a wonderful host. We had some great times while I was here. The conversations and insights we exchanged were remarkable, deep, intense, AND exhaustive! It's these sorts of exchanges that really work a mind. The kind that are two- sided and original, rather than dictated from quotation and interpreted.
Eric deserves a thank you also. Working with him isn't 'work'; the days filled with the same kinds of observation, debate, and insight from a unique perspective are priceless. The fact I get paid mildly astounds me when I think about it, although I shouldn't say that until he DOES pay me tomorrow! Eric's been a great, loyal friend to me over the past few years, and I'm sure he's calling me a 'homo' for saying so, but it's true. I appreciate it, and it needs to be said more often.
Redneck!
Also, for those of you who are getting the email updates and maybe haven't been to the homepage lately, I've added a few more things including links to Kinga and Chris's travel pages, as well as a few other little nicknack's, so stop by and poke around once in a while... and sign the damn guestbook!
I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again; MAYBE Monday if work ends early enough. I'll let you know what I decide then, if possible. If not... stay tuned!
Labels:
Cheyenne WY,
Chris,
eric,
Florida,
Ft. Morgan CO,
Kansas,
Kinga Freespirit,
Mexico,
REI,
South America
Monday, June 23, 2008
6/23: San Francisco
Really not a lot to talk about. Got up pretty late, had some coffee and sent off Couchsurf requests to see if I could find other places in the city to stay this week. I then found out where the REI is, which was only 10- 12 blocks from here so I walked up there to see if I could find a way to solve, or at least help, the blister and tendinitis problems. I was thinking I'd use their killer return policy to exchange the shoes if I needed to, but after chatting with the guy there it became apparent that my problem may have been the inserts I had, so I got some new ones. They had a deal on Cliff bars, so I loaded up on them for $1 a piece, then came back to Greg & Chloe's and joined them downtown while they had pizza. The weather here's been exactly what you'd think about San Francisco. Cold by comparison to where I came from, and windy. Nice to be out of the blazing sun, although I'm sure I'll get over enjoying the cold VERY soon!
I also chatted with Chris about ideas to make some money while I'm here, but that seems rather hard without a place to land. I'm digging thru Craigslist hoping to find temporary general labor type stuff. If I can work it out, I'd work for a week or so to try to recoup some of the money lost on the secy. deposit, but I'm not optimistic. We'll see.
The rest of the evening was spent watching Stewart/ Colbert and sending out Couchsurfing requests for Tuesday. No luck so far, so if I don't find anything by mid- afternoon I believe I'll head into Marin County over the Golden Gate Bridge and start the second half of the California trip. I read that there are some lightning- induced wildfires up that way, so hopefully that wont be an issue.
Pretty funny when I think about how long it's taken to get here. I figured before I left it would take a couple of weeks at minimum, rather than 8 days. I wonder if the northern half of the state will be the same!
I also chatted with Chris about ideas to make some money while I'm here, but that seems rather hard without a place to land. I'm digging thru Craigslist hoping to find temporary general labor type stuff. If I can work it out, I'd work for a week or so to try to recoup some of the money lost on the secy. deposit, but I'm not optimistic. We'll see.
The rest of the evening was spent watching Stewart/ Colbert and sending out Couchsurfing requests for Tuesday. No luck so far, so if I don't find anything by mid- afternoon I believe I'll head into Marin County over the Golden Gate Bridge and start the second half of the California trip. I read that there are some lightning- induced wildfires up that way, so hopefully that wont be an issue.
Pretty funny when I think about how long it's taken to get here. I figured before I left it would take a couple of weeks at minimum, rather than 8 days. I wonder if the northern half of the state will be the same!
Labels:
California,
Chloe,
Couchsurfing,
Craigslist,
REI,
San Francisco
Sunday, June 22, 2008
6/22: San Francisco
Sunday
I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again, but we're headed toward San Francisco later this afternoon. My plan is to Couchsurf, but that seems unlikely because of the short notice so I'll probably just try to get across the Golden Gate Bridge toward Marin County/ Sausalito and wing it from there continuing up Hwy. 1.
I'll update when I Just can, just a reminder that all of last week's stuff has been added to/ expanded. Worth re- reading if you haven't yet!
EDIT 11:30 pm: Well, that was quick. Hello from San Francisco!
We all left the KOA at about noon and headed to the Rio Del Mar State Beach in Santa Cruz for the afternoon for a day of relaxation before the 90 mile drive to San Francisco. For whatever reason, I chose to simply hang out in the RV for the day out of the sun, and just chill. I wound up checking my email for responses to my Couchsurf requests and talking to Shalain at length about possibly cutting this leg of the trip short to return home to work for a few weeks to compensate for the loss of my security deposit money, that was of course unwisely counted on!
After discussing it we decided that it just doesn't make sense to stop just yet. This has thrown a major kink in the plan, but more by way of removing a nice little safety net for things like purchasing pants when the crotch- seam splits in one pair, and the other are covered in tar... which is happening of course. I guess I'd better learn to sew.
So, I'm pressing onward. I had never even considered heading back before all this came up, but in reality the main problem is that I'm coming in over budget every week. If that weren't the case, this would really make no difference. Obviously I know what to address.
The drive from Santa Cruz to San Francisco was spent repacking the backpack and reconfiguring my brain to road- mode after RV- Surfing for 3 days. I didn't really pay that close attention to the landscape between the repacking and playing with Paul. Just before we got into San Francisco I got an email from Couchsurfers Chloe and Greg that I had a place to stay for tonight AND Monday night. Happy times! That would mean no sleeping beneath trees in Sausalito AND I could see a bit of the city AND possibly surf long enough to stick around for THE Gay Pride Parade in San Fran next weekend! I mean, come on... when will I ever get a chance to see THAT again?!?!?
Florian made a stop to finally get his currency exchanged... at a hefty price... and spent another half hour trying to just find a parking place. In the meantime I connected with my surfer hosts and got directions to their place. We disembarked my new favorite RV and my first RV surfing experience came to a close. Florian, Veronika, and Paul were all hungry so Florian invited me in to Mel's Diner for a goodbye meal. I felt bad about taking more from them, but quickly realized how hungry I was and figured it would be too late (and I was too poor) to get anything anywhere else in this expensive city. So I ordered a big ol' burger and prepared to take my leave of my new friends. We walked up the street a bit further together until he found a Starbucks where he could get Internet to check their plane reservations and that was it. We had exchanged information earlier, so we shook hands, hugged, they invited me to see them in Munich whenever I get there and we parted ways. I'm going to miss them. These are truly the type of people who enhance any experience, and like Pat, I felt lucky to have been able to spend time with them, let alone 3 days and a ride from near Hearst Castle all the way to San Francisco. Hopefully I'll be able to see them again.
I continued walking up Geary street and eventually asked some firemen directions to my surfers street. I crossed Market Street, seeing familiar sights all around from our trip here in 2003. I found 5th St., and eventually their loft with little trouble. Greg had given me solid directions, which always helps!
I am Chloe and Greg's first Couchsurfer although they have another coming in Tuesday from Brazil and staying for a WEEK! They're jumping in head first, eh? Nine straight days of CSers. Wow. We got acquainted over some beers and a fruit/ Vodka concoction as I doted on their cats (of course). They are really nice people, with a very comfortable place. They also have a 2 1/2 year- old son. Lotsa cats and kids on this trip!
Tomorrow we may go to Chinatown, then REI right around the corner to see about exchanging my shoes to alleviate the blister problem. No REAL plans though. Also send off a couple CS requests for the rest of the week.
I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again, but we're headed toward San Francisco later this afternoon. My plan is to Couchsurf, but that seems unlikely because of the short notice so I'll probably just try to get across the Golden Gate Bridge toward Marin County/ Sausalito and wing it from there continuing up Hwy. 1.
I'll update when I Just can, just a reminder that all of last week's stuff has been added to/ expanded. Worth re- reading if you haven't yet!
EDIT 11:30 pm: Well, that was quick. Hello from San Francisco!
We all left the KOA at about noon and headed to the Rio Del Mar State Beach in Santa Cruz for the afternoon for a day of relaxation before the 90 mile drive to San Francisco. For whatever reason, I chose to simply hang out in the RV for the day out of the sun, and just chill. I wound up checking my email for responses to my Couchsurf requests and talking to Shalain at length about possibly cutting this leg of the trip short to return home to work for a few weeks to compensate for the loss of my security deposit money, that was of course unwisely counted on!
After discussing it we decided that it just doesn't make sense to stop just yet. This has thrown a major kink in the plan, but more by way of removing a nice little safety net for things like purchasing pants when the crotch- seam splits in one pair, and the other are covered in tar... which is happening of course. I guess I'd better learn to sew.
So, I'm pressing onward. I had never even considered heading back before all this came up, but in reality the main problem is that I'm coming in over budget every week. If that weren't the case, this would really make no difference. Obviously I know what to address.
The drive from Santa Cruz to San Francisco was spent repacking the backpack and reconfiguring my brain to road- mode after RV- Surfing for 3 days. I didn't really pay that close attention to the landscape between the repacking and playing with Paul. Just before we got into San Francisco I got an email from Couchsurfers Chloe and Greg that I had a place to stay for tonight AND Monday night. Happy times! That would mean no sleeping beneath trees in Sausalito AND I could see a bit of the city AND possibly surf long enough to stick around for THE Gay Pride Parade in San Fran next weekend! I mean, come on... when will I ever get a chance to see THAT again?!?!?
Florian made a stop to finally get his currency exchanged... at a hefty price... and spent another half hour trying to just find a parking place. In the meantime I connected with my surfer hosts and got directions to their place. We disembarked my new favorite RV and my first RV surfing experience came to a close. Florian, Veronika, and Paul were all hungry so Florian invited me in to Mel's Diner for a goodbye meal. I felt bad about taking more from them, but quickly realized how hungry I was and figured it would be too late (and I was too poor) to get anything anywhere else in this expensive city. So I ordered a big ol' burger and prepared to take my leave of my new friends. We walked up the street a bit further together until he found a Starbucks where he could get Internet to check their plane reservations and that was it. We had exchanged information earlier, so we shook hands, hugged, they invited me to see them in Munich whenever I get there and we parted ways. I'm going to miss them. These are truly the type of people who enhance any experience, and like Pat, I felt lucky to have been able to spend time with them, let alone 3 days and a ride from near Hearst Castle all the way to San Francisco. Hopefully I'll be able to see them again.
I continued walking up Geary street and eventually asked some firemen directions to my surfers street. I crossed Market Street, seeing familiar sights all around from our trip here in 2003. I found 5th St., and eventually their loft with little trouble. Greg had given me solid directions, which always helps!
I am Chloe and Greg's first Couchsurfer although they have another coming in Tuesday from Brazil and staying for a WEEK! They're jumping in head first, eh? Nine straight days of CSers. Wow. We got acquainted over some beers and a fruit/ Vodka concoction as I doted on their cats (of course). They are really nice people, with a very comfortable place. They also have a 2 1/2 year- old son. Lotsa cats and kids on this trip!
Tomorrow we may go to Chinatown, then REI right around the corner to see about exchanging my shoes to alleviate the blister problem. No REAL plans though. Also send off a couple CS requests for the rest of the week.
Labels:
California,
Chloe,
Couchsurfing,
Florian,
Paul,
REI,
San Francisco,
Santa Cruz CA,
Veronika
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