6/3/10-6/18/10
Two weeks in Tucson
The World Through the Eyes of a Hammock-dweller
6/3/10
Summertime is here, bringing with it unfathomable heat. So begins my sabbatical from walking until September, or whenever it drops below 90 degrees. In the meantime, I'll be joining the journal for their cross-country speaking tour. From June 17th to the end of July, we'll travel on a veggie-powered schoolbus, working and speaking at forums, collectives, and events. The journal house, which is home to the now 2 person collective, will be my dwelling-place for the next couple of weeks, until we embark on our grand journey. Today, I begin my summer life as a time-killer, a home-dweller, a perpetual weekender. I'm looking forward to this opportunity to catch up on some reading, writing, who knows, maybe some art work! For the next couple of weeks, my life will be a lot more like those of the "normal" people I keep hearing about.
I look most forward to the lazy days with Bootlyg, my favorite dog.
6/9/10
I'd been clinging to the final moments of 24, the year of my life most filled with amazement and unbelievable experiences. But midnight brought an end to all that; surrounded by loved ones, surprisingly enough, my birthday rolled in with hugs, kisses, and other people drinking whiskey. My cousin, Jessica, and her girlfriend came for a spur-of-the-moment visit, largely inspired by a need for closeness after a recent family death. Last week we lost an aunt, and neither of us had been able to get home for the funeral. In a futile attempt to send my condolences over the vague waves of the internet, this is what I wrote to my family:
Good morning, family.
I have just heard the news about Tia Flora. I am filled with an immeasurable sadness this morning as I think of Tia Flora being gone, and of the pain you are all undergoing right now.
I know that death brings a measure of relief as the end of worldly suffering, and this makes us happy for those who part with us to enjoy the leaving behind of burdens.
I look back on the many years of family gatherings, many of them in her home, and I am reminded of all the love we have shared together. Tia Flora was so kind and accepting a person. Her smile extended to all, always, family, friends, and visitors alike. At times it seemed like you could see her glowing before you even got inside. Though I didn't spend much time with her in adult life, the times I did share with her are a treasure in my heart.
As a big family, we have endured much loss together; I sincerely wish that I could have been there for you all in person. Had I known sooner, I would have come to be with you. But as things are, I send my love from afar, hoping that my compassion will reach you and fill you up. I love you all, and I share this loss with you completely.
Love, Shay
As a large family we experience a lot of loss--I have been to dozens upon dozens of funerals in my lifetime--but the hardest part, and half of the hurt, is not being there. Trying to send your hugs and kisses through email is not quite the same.
In any case, a good visit came of it.
Jessica and I woke up super early and were out and about well before 6. We had a nice long walk around town and got some coffee before returning home to collect our counterparts. The refrigerator has been on the fritz this week, a likely episode after the recent bathroom explosion, so we had to throw out most of our food. Luckily, however, we found two pizzas in the dumpster (again!) and breakfast was easy. We spent the day with more walking around, since Tucson is such a great city to spend all day walking around. On our way to get some beers and food for the house, we saw some enormous balloons and I decided I wanted them. Jessica decided that I should have anything I want on my special day-- and at any cost-- and engaged in this crazy split-second U-turn at 30mph so that we could steal them. Amber pulled out a knife, jumped out of the car, freed them, and then attempted to sit back down only to find that she was pitifully far from fitting inside the vehicle. I quickly pulled out my own knife, stabbed two of the balloons, frightening everyone in the car, and pulled them back inside. We were gone in a matter of seconds. I eventually popped one of the remaining two by getting it caught in the fan inside the house, and immediately after lost the last one while trying to get my sunglasses on.
We tried to obtain a vehicle to take the bird to the emergency vet, but we were unsuccessful; despite my best efforts to make the bird comfortable, it died within a couple hours of relative peace. I hope, at the least, that it felt some of the love and compassion that I felt.
We had a burial in the back yard, sad to tarnish its soft, delicate, and still warm body with dust and rocks. Someday, this fate will be for each of us. Let it be known, I would rather be pushed away to sea on a funeral pyre, without the usual sadness and ado. I'd like not to think of myself any more important than a bird.
6/15/10
The children next door are rabid and incessantly scream.
We are the background noise in our dining room, and we are planning the logistics of our road trip. So far, this is the itinerary:
Albuquerque
Taos
Durango
Lawrence
St. Louis
Chicago
Cleveland
Buffalo
Albany
Portland, ME
Boston
New York
Philadelphia
Pittsburgh
Columbus (?)
Chicago
Milwaukee
Madison
Minneapolis
Missoula
Portland, OR
Then I'll part ways with the bus, hang out in Portland and San Francisco for a while, making my way slowly down the coast before heading back to Texas to complete my walk. There's a lot to do before we leave. Tomorrow we'll have a going away dinner at the journal with all our friends. (I have friends!!)
6/17/10
The ladies suggested we grab some dinner at an Italian restaurant far fancier than anything I've seen in the past year, and I readily agreed. A birthday dinner, they insisted.
So happy to hang out with Jessica, I hope that I have sparked some spontaneity in her since the Christmas I convinced her to leave our family Christmas party to go for a late night skinny dip in the ocean. I think this last minute road trip qualifies.
Without the usual limitations of "whatever I find in the dumpster," I had a hard time of choosing between the many intriguing prospects. I eventually settled, excitedly, on a vegetarian manicotti with breaded eggplant and marinara sauce.
6/10/10
It's not my birthday anymore! The day brought much love and excitement, as well as beer and cake. After much shuffling about, I'm settling at the desk, contemplating the myriad ways I can be lazy today. We leave for our crazy road trip in a week, and I can't believe a week has already gone by in Tucson. Though I'm thoroughly excited for a new adventure, I'm a little sad about leaving my little haven in the desert.
There have been so many people at the house the past few days, creating a forum for interesting conversation, but also requiring space and time. It's been so great having everybody around, but now that the house is relatively empty, Sasha and I have some alone time again. We had planned an at-home-date for my birthday, which then got postponed until tonight, and yet again when a hitch-hiking guest stayed another night. The strain on both of us, added to the daily pressure of working all day for Sasha and the recent death of my aunt for me, has become apparent, and in an effort to escape we went on an evening walk. The air was perfect with the sun just down, but we were restless and taxed. By the end of the evening we were enjoying ourselves, though. Overall, a better end to the day than the day itself.
6/13/10
The excitement mounts as day by day the road trip approaches. I've been doing odd jobs at the journal, helping with the mailing list, sorting food donations, etc. They've even made me feel useful in the editing department, which I really enjoy. Below, Sasha is working hard... on... something... probably...
I was hoping to get my hands on some volunteer work while in town, but aside from the journal and Food not Bombs, I haven't. I've been lazy, and I think a week of beer, coffee, and sex have incited my kidneys to protest.
This, taken from my journal, is what I imagine they look like as they angrily punch my other organs.
I've resorted to standing over the toilet, naked and with a book, in hopes that a little pee will come out every so often. Clothing and toilet paper have become brutally tedious.
Sasha and I finally had the sushi night we'd been planning and postponing due to visitors and dysfunctional kitchenry. It was so fun that we recreated the experience last night. We slept in the back yard last night because it was so warm, and I somehow managed to sleep until 8 or something. I didn't do Food not Bombs today because I felt a little melancholy. There was, however, a birthday party for our friend Juila, who invited us to cake and beer (just what the doctor ordered...) in her kiddie pool in celebration of our birthdays as well.
6/14/10
The morning greeted me with a sky of spectacular hue, such as only the most insane of us are awake early enough to behold. The sweet smell of the desert dirt beneath me redeems it of the piercing rocks it harbors. A single morning dove perched on a line in the yard cooed a sweet good morning, over and over again. The one beer I had last night was not a good idea, after all. Not that I hadn't suspected this beforehand. Oh well! It didn't stop me from a morning walk, during which time we found an injured dove hobbling around near the curb. It appeared to have at least one broken wing, and most of its tail had been pulled out, probably by a cat. I was compelled to take it home, out of the sun and out of its constant fear and danger on the side of the road. After all, if we didn't save injured morning doves we encountered, they might not be there to wish us a good morning.
I was hoping to get my hands on some volunteer work while in town, but aside from the journal and Food not Bombs, I haven't. I've been lazy, and I think a week of beer, coffee, and sex have incited my kidneys to protest.
This, taken from my journal, is what I imagine they look like as they angrily punch my other organs.
I've resorted to standing over the toilet, naked and with a book, in hopes that a little pee will come out every so often. Clothing and toilet paper have become brutally tedious.
Sasha and I finally had the sushi night we'd been planning and postponing due to visitors and dysfunctional kitchenry. It was so fun that we recreated the experience last night. We slept in the back yard last night because it was so warm, and I somehow managed to sleep until 8 or something. I didn't do Food not Bombs today because I felt a little melancholy. There was, however, a birthday party for our friend Juila, who invited us to cake and beer (just what the doctor ordered...) in her kiddie pool in celebration of our birthdays as well.
6/14/10
The morning greeted me with a sky of spectacular hue, such as only the most insane of us are awake early enough to behold. The sweet smell of the desert dirt beneath me redeems it of the piercing rocks it harbors. A single morning dove perched on a line in the yard cooed a sweet good morning, over and over again. The one beer I had last night was not a good idea, after all. Not that I hadn't suspected this beforehand. Oh well! It didn't stop me from a morning walk, during which time we found an injured dove hobbling around near the curb. It appeared to have at least one broken wing, and most of its tail had been pulled out, probably by a cat. I was compelled to take it home, out of the sun and out of its constant fear and danger on the side of the road. After all, if we didn't save injured morning doves we encountered, they might not be there to wish us a good morning.
We tried to obtain a vehicle to take the bird to the emergency vet, but we were unsuccessful; despite my best efforts to make the bird comfortable, it died within a couple hours of relative peace. I hope, at the least, that it felt some of the love and compassion that I felt.
We had a burial in the back yard, sad to tarnish its soft, delicate, and still warm body with dust and rocks. Someday, this fate will be for each of us. Let it be known, I would rather be pushed away to sea on a funeral pyre, without the usual sadness and ado. I'd like not to think of myself any more important than a bird.
6/15/10
The children next door are rabid and incessantly scream.
We are the background noise in our dining room, and we are planning the logistics of our road trip. So far, this is the itinerary:
Albuquerque
Taos
Durango
Lawrence
St. Louis
Chicago
Cleveland
Buffalo
Albany
Portland, ME
Boston
New York
Philadelphia
Pittsburgh
Columbus (?)
Chicago
Milwaukee
Madison
Minneapolis
Missoula
Portland, OR
Then I'll part ways with the bus, hang out in Portland and San Francisco for a while, making my way slowly down the coast before heading back to Texas to complete my walk. There's a lot to do before we leave. Tomorrow we'll have a going away dinner at the journal with all our friends. (I have friends!!)
6/17/10Day one of Epic Road Trip
Goodbye, home.
I don't know what time it is, but the sun's gone down and we're quite shy of our anticipated evening arrival in Albuquerque. To be more accurate, we've moved about 20 miles since we tentatively rolled out of Tucson at 5. Having long abandoned the hope of a before noon departure, I braced myself for an evening counterpart to match the long day. It took hours to unload accumulated unnecessaries and replace them with crates full of journals, ample food for 5, and more books than we could possibly read with all we'll be doing.
And most of what we've been doing so far has been dealing with the complications of biodiesel. All of the veggie bus trips I've taken have been riddled with mishap and exasperation, and this, so far, has been no exception. Somehow we mixed up the valves so that the diesel overflowed into the veggie tank, which subsequently overflowed. We pulled over to assess the situation, and in so doing attracted the attention of a highway patrol. he asked if we were alright, and nothing more. I am still astounded that the sight of our huge psychedelic bus spewing oil, 4 of the 5 of us all-black-clad, me without pants and Charles with his head of maniacal dreds, didn't spark further curiosity, and that he saw no need to ask for registration or anything else. My take is, "don't question it, just be thankful." When we were speeding down the road again, the most exhilarating breeze swept across my body, repelling the heat from a sun whose shadows danced through billowing gypsy curtains. As I looked around the bus, my lover lying beside me, book in nose, my new and nomadic friends lounging about, my life seemed perfect. Where else would I be right now?
Nowhere else.
Onward!
Love, always,
Shay
And most of what we've been doing so far has been dealing with the complications of biodiesel. All of the veggie bus trips I've taken have been riddled with mishap and exasperation, and this, so far, has been no exception. Somehow we mixed up the valves so that the diesel overflowed into the veggie tank, which subsequently overflowed. We pulled over to assess the situation, and in so doing attracted the attention of a highway patrol. he asked if we were alright, and nothing more. I am still astounded that the sight of our huge psychedelic bus spewing oil, 4 of the 5 of us all-black-clad, me without pants and Charles with his head of maniacal dreds, didn't spark further curiosity, and that he saw no need to ask for registration or anything else. My take is, "don't question it, just be thankful." When we were speeding down the road again, the most exhilarating breeze swept across my body, repelling the heat from a sun whose shadows danced through billowing gypsy curtains. As I looked around the bus, my lover lying beside me, book in nose, my new and nomadic friends lounging about, my life seemed perfect. Where else would I be right now?
Nowhere else.
Onward!
Love, always,
Shay
There are more photos here:
http://picasaweb.google.com/FakePlasticShay
and here: (most recent)
http://cid-d97b248810ba5cf6.skydrive.live.com/browse.aspx/New%20album
The blog, which is just a running accumulation of these emails and journalings, is here:
http://fakeplasticshay.blogspot.com/
Slow down. Live simply. Seek Wonder.
__________________________________________________________________________________
So! Onward!
I am an adventure traveler. I am not a tourist seeking a distraction from my discomforts and worries. I am a lover of life seeking to submerge myself in the world outside myself. The nature and quality of my experience are based on some questions:
-What do I want from the road?
-Why will I travel?
I want to see amazing things
I want to meet amazing people
I want to do a lot of walking
I want freedom
I want stories
I want to see and try new things
I want all of these things at the expense of taking risks and encountering uncertainty.
_____________________________________________________________________
These travels are neither for fundraiser nor for personal profit. I seek to live as minimally as possible while traveling, and in life in general. However, I rely primarily on the kindness of others, and the faith that everything I need I will always find in one way or another. The infinite graciousness of others has kept me moving forward, day by day. Any help along the way is monumentally appreciated, as food and shelter are of the utmost uncertainty on this trip. If you would like to make a small contribution for food you may do so by clicking here:
click the "personal" tab, send it to Fakeplasticshay@gmail.com,
specify your own amount as a gift, and help me get one day and one
city further!
As always, anything helps and is so very much appreciated!
If you'd like to send a letter of support, please contact me for location specifics for general delivery.
Thank you all so much!
Love, Shay
Texas: It's bigger than France
A passing car stopped to offer me prayer, and the driver handed me a slip of paper with the address of a place I could get a meal. I almost didn't go, mostly because I had just gotten the dinner thing taken care of, not knowing the profound impact the people there would have on me.
On my way in that direction, I crossed into Texas, beginning a new chapter of my journey.
Would I again be forced to patronize a belief system of somebody else's preference in order to participate in this community? Who knew what awaited behind the glass-paneled wooden door that separated me and these unknown Baha'is. I knocked on the door, it opened, and I was greeted with such a warmth as would only be shown to an expected guest. Katherine, who opened the door, invited me in, and an enthusiastic welcome rose from the room of people behind her. I felt immediately at home, surrounded by this unlikely group, in a living room enshrined in art, with ample, comfortable seating, and pleasantly devoid of electronics.
I sat down and we all communed over some of the best coffee I'd ever had. They shared with me their faith in a most unassuming way. Though I cannot say I'll ever define myself by the parameters of any concrete ideology, I found that their ideas mesh well with mine in many ways. What is most important to them, and to me, is not the name of the faith. Any good Christian, Muslim, Jew, etc. will live by a fundamental principle that all of their faiths share: Love everybody, with all of your heart, and in all of your actions. It doesn't make sense to kill each other over the particulars--would it please your God, or whatever name you have for it? Probably not.
Just love. It's not that hard.
So these Baha'is, they're not so outrageous. They offered me a nice couch to sleep on, and as I ended my day here, I reflected on what a glorious day it had been, after all.
5/9/10
I left Anthony early, but the road brought many distractions, and the hours, slow progress. Knowing full well that a noontime break was not in order with 16 miles ahead, I decided... to take a break.
There was this junk shop, as the proprietors themselves saw fit to call it. I explored the grounds, appropriately guarded by dinosaurs, and basking in the quite unexpected and equally opportune sprinklers before heading out again.
Canutillo, a true to definition border town, with local shops of bright colors and outdated signs.
Still hours away from the heart of the city, I entered El Paso city limits.
I joined him for a trip to the store to handpick a few of the finest beers El Paso had to offer. Back at his house, a few more friends came to join, and I enjoyed an evening more like my real life than any other since I'd left Portland in January.
5/10/10
I woke later than usual, having slept inside. I was planning on walking alone today, but got Brent to walk with me, as a result of my strategy to ask while he was intoxicated. He said "No, I have to work. What time should I meet you?" He showed up at about 7:40, with coffee and granola bars in hand. It goes to show, although I'm known as "the friend that will drop everything to go on that spontaneous 3,000 mile trip with a stranger on a workday," I'm equally often the stranger you'll ditch work to hang out with.
It was only a couple hours' walk to downtown El Paso, so we had the whole day to sight-see. Miles of sprawl encompass the city in infinite pavement. You can't stop and pee whenever you please, and that's proof enough that pavement is not suitable for human beings.
There are things worse than this, even, about pavement and the chaotic hurry it encourages.
Every corner has relevance within the history of the Mexican Revolution. The Rio Grande serves as a natural border to Mexico, and its manmade counterpart, the new border wall, is stirring much controversy, and is of course less appealing to look at.
Fantastic pockets of unique culture remain, though in some cases development has altered, or completely eradicated, historic elements of the city. This particular pocket park is in a neighborhood that's been a focal point of redevelopment, now resembling the re-vamped meat-packing disctrict of Manhattan. I'm told, unfortunately, that largely the redevelopment aims at creating nightlife, but there's a lot of potential for artist lofts, coffee shops, and community space.
I've always said the worth of a city can be determined by how much public space is devoted to art. In this neighborhood, a not yet open coffee shows the promise of uniting locals.
Another park-sit was well merited after all the walking around on this day off. Baby morning doves graced us with their presence as we relaxed our tired feet.
Albert picked us up, dropped Brent off at his car, and we continued our discussion of music over a sunset at the river. 
Graffiti, Interstate, Nowhere.
5/12/10
Harvesting tumbleweed from nearby shrubs, I ended the day covering the entrances to a piney bungalow and settling to read the last article in my science magazine. The needles created a nice warm bed for me, a welcome comfort on a day that passed mostly without human contact. Except for the occasional "dammit" when a wayward thorn found my foot, I hadn't heard the sound of my own voice all day.
There will be many days like this, alone, but not lonely.
5/13/10
Fabens, TX.
I found a lake that turned out not to be a mirage, the first of real water in...who knows. Needless to say I ran over that hill like it was nothing and jumped in.
I arrived in Ft. Hancock in the evening, ready to rest my weary head behind the police station. Apparently there were a lot of shootings and otherwise crazy trafficking stuff going on, so I decided this would be the best place to camp. I stopped by Angie's restaurant, where the locals go to hang out, and tonight was no different. One by one they poured in, asking all sorts of questions, and one by one leaving me with a donation to help me on my way. One man, after all the others, slipped some money in my hand, telling me to stay at the hotel across the street. I told him that, really, I had more than enough money (and I did!) But he insisted that I take it so I could enjoy a nice, warm shower, and a soft bed to sleep in. I don't usually stay in hotels, but it didn't seem honest to pocket the money and camp out anyway. So I enjoyed it, feeling unusually spoiled.
Me and "the" Angie!
I took the opportunity to soak in a bath, which for me doubles as a laundry facility. My dress needed a good washing, as did my feet. I took a long time to stretch my muscles, catch up on my journal, and watch some news. I know, ew. I've been out of the loop.
5/15/10
Sierra Blanca, my hard earned place of rest, stretches out its barren hand a mile away from its heart, offering for an unbearable 20 minutes only the false promise of food or water. Even the recently-lively-looking gun and grocery store is void of human life.
Where is everybody? Did they die of the plague? The girl at the gas station I finally found did not find amusement in this question. Shame, my first human all day and no sense of humor. But Delfina and her daughter at Michael's restaurant made up for this, and abundantly so. Politely as I could, I declined and offer to be adopted, but promised I would be back for breakfast, on them. Finding myself somehow with an uncomfortably ample 40 dollars, I decided to be ectravagant and stay in the only motel that looked open. Its lights were shining beacons in the sea of all things past, and long since, at that.
5/16/10
My attempt at breakfast went unrewarded-Michael's restaurant is an unusually popular spot at 6am. Although, really, it isn't that unusual that the only place serving breakfast for 20 miles would have all the breakfast-goers in it. I moped back to the room breakfastless, took a shower, and walked for 22 miles. On the way, I hit my 1,000 mile mark, though it wasn't as exciting as I thought it would be. I took a picture anyway, hoping I would be excited later.
5/17/10
On the way to Van Horn.
Today I passed into the Central Time Zone!
I was excited to wake up this morning, having inadvertantly fallen asleep on a woodrat's nest that looked like an innocent mess around a fallen yucca tree. Through the night, carefully harvested prickles lodged themselves into my flesh, infrequently enough to make moving dreadful, but often enough to make morning a treasured anticipation. After my short morning of 12 miles, which was actually quite long because of ceaseless incline and winding, I arrived in Van Horn.
The fact that it didn't appear everyone was dead was welcome enough to the social animal in me. I meandered around town, taking advantage of the leisure time on my hands. And I was surprised to find, of all things, a coffee shop! I arrived at the Cornerstone just as they were closing shop, but I thought to myself, with this new oasis at my fingertips, that tomorrow would make a most excellent rest day. 
