The Adventure Hobo

Francis is 3 months old!

2011-09-06T19:49:00.000-07:00

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The View from My Life

2010-11-03T17:35:00.000-07:00

10/10/10-10/31/10

Austin to Houston

The View from My Life

10/10/10

Another mess of tangled freeway walking today was. After oversleeping a couple of hours, I put myself in the late line for a series of buses and waiting for buses, trying to get back to the highway where I left off coming into Austin. By the time I actually got on the road it was after 9, and a bonehead move put me 2 miles behind by noon. I’d been making great time once I started walking, but upon stopping for water at a gas station, I exited out the side door and started walking, now southward instead of eastward. When I did find myself on the right path, after backtracking the 2 miles, I was daunted by the myriad looping overpasses and rushing traffic in all directions. But, this is my life, and this is what I signed up for, easy or difficult! With a wave of my hand, I left Austin in the dust and exhaust, with the hope that Bastrop will bring as many new friends and unique experiences.

Frustration mounted as every logistical detail complicated itself throughout the day, seemingly for my sake; all of a sudden the shoulder disappeared, leaving me to decide whether to walk with traffic behind me or try to cross another freeway with a barbed wire median to walk oncoming. Either way, there was a huge bridge with no shoulder I’d have to brace, very high above zooming cars. I stood there for a while, surely looking puzzled, and a car pulled up. The gentleman inside offered to take me over the overpass. A short few seconds later I was smooth sailing on my feet again, and made it about a mile when I was approached again, this time by a family in their driveway, and they let me sit in the shade of their yard for a while. I got several ride offers today, none of which I accepted, but the best of which was a very sketchy, windowless black van, painted like a shark.The guys were young, probably younger than me, and they seemed very cool; I have been kicking myself for not even seeing if they lived in Bastrop and wanted to get coffee or something. Perhaps I’ll see them down the road, but who knows. A missed opportunity is something I've grown to dwell on with so much to hear and to say.

Now I’m sitting outside a church in Wyldwood, only 9 miles away from Bastrop. The air is a cool 75º, having shed the midday misery of 90º. I’m unable to pilfer internet around here, so I suppose I’ll turn in early. The sun is setting, and I’m waiting for the magical moment of just enough darkness that will allow me to go to sleep at an hour too early for my meandering mind.

This playground structure made a nice camp for the evening.

10/11/10

I got started walking before the sun came up, excited to get to Bastrop. I’ve heard great things about this place, and while Wyldwood was a nice stay for an evening, there isn’t much left to explore on its one street. A mist hung in the air, tickling my face as I pressed forward in the dawn. Without the light of the sun, headlights danced through the fog like fire-lit lanterns, alerting me of speeding vehicles ahead. For a nice 5 miles the air was cool, until the sun took on its merciless reign of the day.

I wasn’t impressed by my initial survey of Bastrop, which, when you enter from the West, is a series of corporate stores and highway-- Strip Mall America! What was it that people found so charming about this place? There had to be something more to Bastrop than this…I found the Starbuck’s that I believed was the only coffee shop in town, parked myself in a chair, and waited for word, ultimately, that my friends from Austin could not meet me for camping. By that point I’d had it with the artificial environment, the institution of air conditioning (which makes 50 degrees the unalterable answer to 90 degrees) and the shamelessly devoted barista, frantically trying to sell the last of their now out-of-season merchandise.

BUT...Once you get over the bridge, the town of Bastrop reveals plenty of opportunity for leisurely walking along the river, a sit in some luscious grass, and of course, more coffee.

I immediately meet Viola Gay, “but not the funny kind of gay,” she assures me. After a moment, though, we agree it’s ok to be gay. Viola proudly tells me that she has lived in Bastrop her entire life, and would never think of living anywhere else. She gave me an NFL rubber bracelet, and I told her the history of gifted bracelets that are now resting safely in storage until the walk is finished. The bracelet is so that I never forget her, and I promise that I won’t.

This little anole wants to be my friend. It keeps sitting on the couch next to me, but when I try to take a picture, it runs away. I’ve found my coffee shop in Bastrop, so I don’t have to wander around aimlessly any longer. To my great surprise, Tommy Gunns Cafe, started by an industrious 15 year old 2 years ago, had the exact flamingo playing tennis mug I grew up with at Grandma’s house, which I thought I was unique in owning
.

I happily lazed away the afternoon, talking to Sharon, mother of the afore-mentioned industrious now-17 year-old. Sharon’s supportive attitude toward her daughter’s business is astounding, and it’s apparent this young lady is going to thrive in life rather than wallowing like a lot of teenagers do. Sharon, in her ever-kind spirit, gave me some french fries, cut with an apple peeler into one huge spiral fry. The adjoining cabin was mine for the evening, another token of Sharon’s kindness.

I regret now that I didn’t spend an extra day in Bastrop.

10/12/10

What luck the universe has bestowed upon me today! My heart is in rapture as I walk in pine pitch through tall trees and sparse traffic; I stop for a moment and let it soak in that this is my life!

As I left the cabin on my way to the post office, Sharon coincided with me at the main intersection of town, with a Starbucks frappuccino and a piece of pumpkin bread, happy to see me. I thanked her again for all the help she has been to me, the magnitude of which she will probably never realize. In many moments of quiet reflection, the people who have helped me on this journey come to mind. I regret that some names I don’t remember, in passing receipt of small favors, some people I will probably not have the opportunity to reconnect with. But the gratitude will never leave my heart. If I have learned anything from these travels, it is that the world is not so scary a place, nor does it abound with malicious people. Contrarily, I believe that every person has the potential, and usually the desire, to encounter others positively; How in the world could this journey be working otherwise? There are people who would have you believe that there is a psychopath, a thief, a murderer or rapist around every corner, just waiting for an opportune moment. I don’t buy it. My experience simply does not demonstrate this as a reality.

I received Sasha’s letter, and the few little trinkets included, among which were some of those awesome little chocolate energy nugget thingies from the co-op. Today I rested in a field of wild morning glories, watching black butterflies gently visit them. They softly probe for breakfast, never disrupting the balanced harmony of which they are a part. It’s days like this that I really live for, and they inspire the rare insight that life is beautiful always, not just when the days are as apparently wonderful as this.

I stopped at the Main Hall cafe 6 miles out of Bastrop, and as is usually the case, it didn’t exist anymore. But the early risers are up and having a drink at the bar in front. It wasn’t a total loss though, because there were some nice shady spots to sit in comfortable chairs outside the equally-abandoned-looking hotel, and on my way out of the bar, one of the aforementioned early risers gave me ten dollars to buy lunch. Where I can accomplish this, I have no idea, but I have a cookie left over from yesterday that somebody gave me.

Paige, a pretty small town, provided for me a lovely grilled cheese sandwich with tomatoes, lettuce, and onion, my new favorite food in Texas. Mainly this is because it’s the only vegetarian option that’s not iceberg salad. I slept behind a building in a pretty inconspicuous place, ready to leave early in the morning.

10/13/10

Giddings was another quick stop. I spent most of my time there in the surprisingly nice library. Here, too, I was met with great hospitality—the librarian helped me tap into city’s resources for homeless, and I had a place to stay for the evening. She also put some cash in my hand, not letting me refuse.

10/14/10

While enjoying a breakfast of hash browns with diced tomatoes and cheese, a reporter walked through the door, ready to take down my story. It begins like this:

“When you don’t worry about money, everything just seems to work itself out. That’s what Shay Emmons has found out as she walks across America, with little or no cash most of the way. Shay sat in a side booth next to a table full of bikers at Mel’s Diner in Giddings last Thursday, quietly eating breakfast and telling her story of a 25-year-old woman who wanted to challenge herself. So she did…”

Standing in front of the motorcycles with Dora and Beth, who waved away my tab before letting me continue my walk to Ledbetter.

It wasn’t a particularly interesting place to end my day, Ledbetter. The store there, though, (the only thing in Ledbetter) was a very very old shop run by a very old woman, and the lady there, Angel, gave me some free ice cream. I don’t normally eat ice cream, in fact it’s been years since I’ve had real, dairy, ice cream, but Blue Bell is in the area and everyone’s been telling me that I just have to have some. Over my treat, I explained to her my dilemma about walking on the 290 when there was no shoulder, and she offered to take me to the next nearby town, Burton. I was much more excited to end my day there, and not to have to stress about walking on the 290, ew.

My heart sang as we rolled up to this little town, full or greenery and cute little houses. A true representation of Texas’s Hill Country, Burton has all the country charm and old-timey architecture you could dream of. Before I committed to a sit at the town’s one pub, I explored the sloping streets and defunct old buildings, including the Cotton Gin Museum.

The Pig and Whistle, Burton’s pub, turned out to be an excellent only choice, as I landed a nice salad and a place to stay for the night, out in the country. The people I met there were spectacularly fun! It’s always kind of fun to see the locals in a bar, drinking together and talking about their lives, especially when you aren’t drinking yourself.

10/15/10
Today’s walk has by far been the most beautiful. Often shaded by looming oaks the road curves up and down hills, giving my legs a welcome workout. I am bursting at the seams with contentment in life, I could melt into a mess of tears thinking of how full my life has become with love and gratitude. There is an undeniably therapeutic effect walking has on the soul, particularly in conjunction with immersion in nature. In the words of John Muir,
“Keep close to Nature's heart... and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.”
I couldn’t agree more. I deeply believe that most of society’s ills would be remedied if we all spent more time in the company of Nature.

And as I contemplated the glories of outdoor living, I was intercepted by a reporter! How she knew to find me on this back-road, I will never know…Front page again!

I got to Brenham tired of walking, despite the short day of 14 miles. As soon as I could, I found a place to eat, my limbs hanging soggily from my body. Before I could sit down to enjoy my avocado and sprout sandwich, though, I found myself bombarded by fans and inundated with their questions. Just as I was about to take a bite of my much-needed lunch, a reporter from the radio approached me, handy with his microphone and asking away. Thank you, Brenham, for your enthusiasm! I wish I could have looked more alive for you!
“You have to eat this cake, it’s the best thing.” Best advice I’ve heard all day, kids really know what’s up. At Mobius, the local coffee shop, I sat and uploaded a few hundred photos while a couple of inquisitive little girls kept me entertained. When I met Andrew, I had no idea I'd soon be on my way to one of the best weekends of my life. After some preliminary talk of life and adventure, we left the coffee shop in a curiously big van, and began the drive out the family property in the country. Andrew was quiet for a moment, as if in a deep thought, and then said, “I have to tell you something about our lifestyle, before we get way out to the house.” This got the gears in my head turning. “It might freak you out, and if it does, just say so and we’ll turn around.” Now, being from California, I consider myself pretty open-minded, especially in terms of the word “lifestyle.” It really could pertain to anything, and I’ve just about seen it all, not much makes me flinch. Andrew proceeded to explain the family dynamics, warning me first that he has 12 children, 7 of whom live in the house. No problem. "It can be very loud and chaotic, though it’s a spacious house." No problem. “There are 3 women in the household.” OK. “We’re all one family.” That’s all? When I heard “this might freak you out,” I was thinking they must be cannibals or something extreme. More on this thought in a moment.

We walk into the house and it’s alive and full of motion. The kitchen, from which we entered, is brightly lit and spacious, at the moment occupied by a lady who will soon introduce herself as Ann, and a few children.

Above, dinner is underway, and Hannah is trying her hand at high heels and a fedora. Kurt is attempting Tom Cruise’s Risky Business floor slide, for some reason with a garbage bag around his legs. Neil, right, prefers watching videos on the iPhone while practicing indoor shirtless skating. The two youngest, Mark and Bryan, are seen below in a rare moment of truce, sharing a wide variety of toys, best enjoyed when strewn about haphazardly. This moment didn’t last long. The stasis prevailed almost immediately after the photo-op, and one began screaming as the other proceeded to hit. They get along as any two loving toddler brothers do, and the innocent faces are priceless.
As I look for the ideal spot to sit for dinner, somebody mutters, “Well, he hit me in the head with a truck so I’m stealing his seat.”

Then there are the kitties…

10/16/10
We had a splendid breakfast, and I felt spoiled to have the special vegetarian fare--a quesadilla with spinach, tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, and salsa. Mimosas and coffee also make me feel special! We ate on the back deck, which looks out onto a green expanse of trees. The sunshine shines in all the right places and the breeze breezes to cool the air.

After breakfast we spent a lazy afternoon at the house until Cheryl had a piano concert to raise money for the Brenham Music Academy. Cheryl is unquestionably one of the most talented individuals I’ve met, I felt this even before I saw her perform. The Sheet Music Concert was a great success, with Cheryl sight-reading the favorite pieces of attendees, arranging them to her own style. Clad in a bright peacock shawl, fingers flying over pieces like Warsaw Concerto and My Favorite Things, Cheryl is the ideal eccentric: smart as a whip, creative, and down to earth.
10/17/10
Andrew said something this morning that really struck me. Though their home is an intentional Christian community and they host what is like a church service from their living room, I’ve found philosophical open-mindedness and exploration to be a prevailing theme here. He said, “Instead of loving people of other faiths we kill each other over ideas as to what happens after death.” I feel like I have used these exact words in conversation, and I’m refreshed to hear this idea preached rather than some of the more destructive ones for a change. I would have like to have sat in for more of the philosophizing, but I was lucky to be in town for the once a month farmer’s market in the area. William, the oldest of Andrew’s children still living in the house, took me with him. We brought fried green tomatoes to the preliminary meet-n-greet potluck, where I was happy to find local hibiscus tea, mung bean salad, sweet potato casserole, and pecan pie. Soon the place was a bustling marketplace, vendors in gazeboes selling jam, cheese, meat, and vegetables, and in the background we were given a grand tour of the farm.

We arrived back at the house in time to do plenty of nothing, which seems like the perfect thing to do on a Sunday afternoon. Because we stayed up so late last night, I was relatively sleepy, and am glad I decided to take an extra day off. Not to mention I hate walking on Sundays, because nothing is open and I often find myself with no way of getting water. After dinner we decided on a movie, The Usual Suspects. Cheryl and I went out back for a few minutes, and there she prayed for my feet and said some of the nicest things anybody has ever said to me. I continue to get very nice emails from all of them.
10/18/10

After this weekend, I don't think I've ever seen a MORE functional and loving family, and it was easy for them to persuade me to take an extra day off in their company. I've learned something very valuable from traveling, constantly being submerged in cultures and belief systems different than my own: though we all have different ways of thinking and attaining happiness, we are all looking for the same things. It is easy to point at others' ways of doing things, making judgment as we see fit, but how often do we actually seek to understand? I say live and let live; do what makes you happy!

I got to Chappell Hill early in the day, hoping to find the bed and breakfast I was told might let me stay a night. Before I could get anywhere, though, I was confronted with a very sweet lady, Judy, and asked if I had a place to stay. How perfect luck is sometimes! I took a brief exploration of Chappell Hill’s one street, finding that the highly recommended Bever’s Kitchen had just closed for the day. Dejected and hungry, I walked away to find a newspaper with my picture on it being waved in my face by a neighbor. The door to Bever’s opened up, and they fed me a lunch of sautéed spinach and the best mashed potatoes ever. To top it all off, I was also given a slice of chocolate mousse pie, which I was sure would keep me full for a couple of days. Cynthia, on her last day of work there after 21 years, offered to take me to Judy’s place, and Rosa offered me a place to stay when I got to Hempstead. What a great thing it is to be in the newspaper! People suddenly have a new appreciation for what you’re doing, it seems.

I spent a wonderful afternoon and evening with Judy and her husband, Allen. We sipped coffee while they excitedly, but gently, prodded me for details on my walk. Judy took me out to dinner, and I gluttonously indulged on veggie raviolis smothered in a cream sauce that I knew would give me a stomach ache, as does most of Texas’s cuisine. But I’m happy to occasionally eat things I know I shouldn’t be eating, what fun is life otherwise? We connected deeply over our meal, talking about our various volunteering experiences, the wondrous and challenging things we have been through in life, and the people we love. I’m tempted to say it’s so rarely in life that we meet such amazing people, and have the chance to connect with them face to face. But then I realize, the world is full of these people, and I have been so lucky to connect with truly amazing, loving, and individual people on a daily basis. Judy is one of those rarities, though, one of those very few people in life who just has this natural ability to make you feel loved, absolutely without judgment. When we returned to the house, Allen set to work hunting the armadillo that digs up the garden. Luckily, I don’t think he had any success.
10/20/10
Goodbye, pair #3, you have served me well.

I cannot believe my luck today. Judy insisted on getting me proper shoes this morning, and I insisted on getting them at a thrift store. We checked, but there was nothing, so we went to Penny’s. There I found the perfect pair of shoes, only to be disappointed by the unavailability in my size. I was content to begin walking, just wearing the shoes I had on, but Judy had just one more place in mind. To my great surprise, there they were, just sitting nicely on the shelf—the first pair of shoes I began walking with, the most comfortable wonderful shoes that I was sure I’d never be able to find again—my Rocket Dogs!

My feet are in heaven! Thank you Judy and Allen for your hospitality!

Crossing the gorgeous Brazos River, above

Taking a rest under the freeway.

Walking into Hempstead from the back road. Below, the water tower is the tallest thing in the city!

My welcome to Hempstead was a suspicious glance and an “excuse me, but you’re going to have to leave your backpack at the courtesy desk” at the grocery store. I returned this with a “Hell no, (and perhaps some other profanities) I’m going to go support a business that doesn’t treat its patrons like criminals.” And with that I marched off angrily, hoping Rosa might have some non-meat snackies. I was in luck! I had some macaroni and cheese while her youngest of 5 children, Rocket, threw Cheerios all over the floor. One by one, the four girls made their appearances, whether wearing satiny princess pajamas or toting around a handy iPhone. Rocket kept me company as I helped myself to some arthritis and sore foot lotion Rosa gave me for the road. Spending so much time in family settings makes me so excited to settle down and start having kids. I used to wonder how people could possibly want 3, 4, or 5 kids, but when I observe Rosa’s family, it all just seems to fit into place.
10/22/10
I stopped in Hockley last night, not a very exciting place. The only thing here is a bar.
I've long since lost track of time. I’m tired today, having resigned to sleeplessness last night on account of many factors. I thought I’d found the perfect spot, under a tree behind the post office, but the tree belonged to an uncomfortably friendly possum and the post office received truckloads all night. I was also met by a very large dog and a very soft brown puppy that looked like a bear.

For a town that has nothing in it, Hockley is rather alive at night. The scenery shifts day by day as I leave the Hill Country toward Houston, the sprawling megalopolis whose outskirts I enter though I’m still 30 miles away from its heart. True I’m not the biggest fan of sprawling, monstrous cities, but I couldn’t be more excited to get to Houston, where I’ll have a bath, watch some movies, and sleep in a bed for a week!

Cypress is nothing to write home about. I arrived, disillusioned and dejected, only to find that I couldn’t possibly walk to Jersey Village on the road provided. My sweet little Old Washington Road has vanished, already ten miles ago. The frontage roads can hardly be distinguished from the freeway itself, congested and break-neck, without shoulder. Texas has been difficult for a number of reasons, not least of all because it is in most places absolutely hostile to pedestrians. Cypress can hardly be called its own city—its roads are parking lots, its businesses, big boxes. This enormous strip mall comprises the city of Cypress, and it is no place for humans. I am continually in awe at the things we create, the attempts we make at comfort and convenience. These things become arbitrary, perpetuating themselves when nobody particularly cares for them. In nature there is a beauty so simple and uncontrived, that no machine or construct could emulate. Yet we destroy it to lay down our parking lots and to build up enormous stores of useless things to satisfy a culture of anxiety. For now, I get to put this place behind me. I have the week to enjoy, and I have my Sasha’s visit to look forward to in a matter of days. Houston, here I come!
ALL of the photos are now here:

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, shelter, and other necessities, you may do so by clicking here. 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

Walking Across America: Part II

2010-10-16T06:24:00.000-07:00

Walking Across America:

Part II

On February 20th, 2010, I started walking. From the Santa Monica Pier in California all the way to Midland, Texas, I walked. No rides, just walking. When it became too hot to walk, I left Texas, by bus, to spend the summer elsewhere. I traveled to 21 states in those couple of months. Not walking, of course.

Now it’s September, and the air is much cooler. Now I begin walking again. I’ll walk until I get to Jacksonville, Florida.

People ask me all the time why I’m doing this. Well, I suppose there are a lot of reasons… I am walking because I want to inspire people. I like walking, and I think people should try it more often, instead of driving past all there is to see. I want others to try adventuring, too.
I’m walking because I feel that you must, at least once in your life, try to do something you’re not certain you can do. I’m doing something bigger than myself. I want to learn to handle anything, and with grace--to be humbled. And I hope this story changes the life of at least one person in the world.

Welcome to the Walk Across America.

Part II.

Now that I’ve made my grand introduction, read on for some unexpected disappointment…

9/17/10

Getting back to Midland wasn’t as easy as I expected, since city the bus I was told about did not exist.I’ve long since learned, though, to deal with things that are supposed to be there but don’t exist. I had to take a Greyhound, which is scarcely an opportunity to jump at. A 3 hour wait for a 20 mile ride for 11 dollars. Pfff...What a day it is already. I met a little girl whose mom was too busy on the phone to keep her entertained, so I showed her my hat, my glasses, my camera…She seemed never to tire, and it helped me pass the time more quickly.

When I arrived in Midland, it looked like rain, and it was now too late in the day to begin such a long walk. I spent the last of my money on a hotel room in the place I stayed my last night in Texas, only a couple rooms down this time. Howard, the Korean owner who tells me I wouldn’t even be able to pronounce his real name, so what’s the point, again gives me a deal on a room, happily accommodating me for the little money I have on hand. I hope someday I will come and visit him, and that he will tell me his real name, even if I can’t say it right. I’ll always remember what a nice man he is. Hotels are a true, and appreciated luxury, best enjoyed while watching movies and eating unhealthy snacks, after a long, hot bath.Never again will I take for granted sleeping in a bed and having a bath.

A view of the sky from the balcony tonight, and on my last night in Midland:

9/18/10

Looking out at the green expanse of Texas, I believe it could go on forever. The terrain has just begun to roll, hinting me forward into the hill country.

There’s still a lot of tall, dead grass around, but I’m beginning to see trees! Coming out of Midland, where as far as the eye can see abounds asphalt and gargantuan Walmarts, this highway is a welcome change of pace. Being away from the interstate is always refreshing. Marching down the road to the tune of Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads, I feel this day has been waiting for me a long time. I own this road! And I'm going to walk crazy fast today!

BUT…After about 16 miles my body feels drained. I mean, literally, after sitting, it’s impossible to lift my legs except by physically picking them up with my hands. My back is in spasm from the water I have to carry for 3 days of survival. I feel, now, that the tables have turned, and that the day has in fact owned me. And I’m still 21 miles away from Garden City! I haven’t even mentioned the condition of my feet. Strangely enough, I haven’t felt hungry all day. I ate half of a veggie patty at about noon, and a little packet of miso soup with a handful of trail mix on the side. I suppose it isn’t really that strange, I usually don’t eat on walking days but a few handfuls here and there, or nothing at all until the end of the day. I’m so desperate to lose some of my pack weight that I’ve begun picking out the almonds and cranberries in my trail mix, because they are the heaviest. At the halfway point, a little dog started following me. She came out of the only yard in Sprayberry, which is also the only thing in Sprayberry, barking ferociously as I walked by. As I scoped out a stroller (!!) I spotted on the side of the road about a mile later, she snuck up from behind, throwing herself in the tall grass, belly-up for approval. She rolled around rather dramatically for several minutes until I finally gave her a pat on the side. That pretty much sealed the deal for her.

I reluctantly backtracked to put her in the yard. She didn’t stay, and I had to walk her back twice more until I was confident that her interest in me had waned. But sure enough, more than a mile down the road this time, there she was, creeping up behind me and again flopping around in the weeds. It seemed to me that if she was willing to walk so far away from home, she must really want to get away. She acted much like a dog that’s been abused, ducking sharply at the slightest motion toward her, and she had abrasions that concerned me as well. Poor thing, what was I to do? Rather than backtrack yet again, I decided to find a place to stay, half hoping that she’d wander back home at some point during the night.

9/19/10

That dog stayed with me all night. I’m vaguely worried I might smell like pee, because she did, and she wanted to be a little spoon all night. I gave up trying to push her away, because she just didn’t listen. All night she slept half next to me, half on top of me. And, after all, it did get pretty misty, she must have been cold. I thought it would be great to have a guard dog, but she initially failed me on that front, sleeping right through the yipping coyotes in nearby bushes. I stood up and scared them off. Sensing that I was disappointed in her guard dog skills, she did her best to prove herself by barking at sleepless cows and oil drills creaking their loneliness into empty fields. By morning I was immensely troubled thinking of what to do with her, and hadn’t slept much for worrying about it. Naturally, she followed me down the road, uncomplainingly though she’d had little food and no water. I gave her the better portion of my trail mix, which she scarfed down like I’ve never seen a dog eat nuts, and all of my peanut butter. She had a real difficulty staying on the shoulder, though, and almost caused a couple accidents by running out into the highway. I tried to flag down several cars, but nobody stopped, even when I made a “Call 911” sign. It’s quite disconcerting that people are so afraid of one another, so much so as to leave somebody with a baby stroller in an apparent state of emergency on the side of the highway for fear of even talking to them. After a very long while, somebody stopped and called 911, and an officer arrived to take the dog and either return her or find her a new home. It makes me sad, and I wonder what did happen to her. I hope I did the right thing; She made such a good companion, but it was a very unsafe place for her to be. I couldn’t have kept enough food or water for her either, it just seemed all around irresponsible to try and keep her. The day pressed on with a mixture of guilt and worry, and I missed my little doggie.

I’ve had a stressful day and have been doing a lot of thinking about the walk. I realize now that I had a lot of fear and reservation about the second half of it, but didn’t want to admit it to myself. My feet never did stop hurting all summer. Right now my body is in such pain I don’t know how I could walk another 2 day stretch to the next town, and that’s all it is for the next 150 miles. I’ve watched too many murder movies taking place in Texas these past couple of weeks. I miss Sasha. I feel at times my heart just isn’t in it anymore. Right now is one of those times. I’m throwing in the towel! Are you disappointed yet? I am…

SO…

I got a ride the last 3 miles to Garden City, sure that my legs were going to fall right off. A group of twenty-somethings who could have been from San Francisco, except that they were driving a hummer, turned around on the highway and backtracked to Garden City, just because they felt they needed to help. In this moment my faith in humanity was boosted, after spending the whole day angry at the world for every passing car. Something in my heart just told me I had to get in that car. From the rear-view mirror hung a rainbow flag, and the girl in the passenger seat had some blue in her hair, like me. It was a very brief ride, and they had more questions than we had time to talk; I answered dutifully, until I was interrupted by more questions. I had a good time, but was a little disoriented when I got out of the truck in Garden City. The only place in town was closed, but I quickly drew attention to myself, being the only person not in a vehicle in the whole town. I got a ride offer immediately, to Sterling City, feeling guilty as the miles flew by underneath me, but not feeling them with my feet.

Sterling City is what you’d call a really “down home” town. In fact, I’m told by a local, the bank closes whenever a resident passes away. Almost everything is locally owned except for maybe the Dairy Queen, blech; They have a very little library and a little picnic area with a golf course! Walking down the neighborhoods, I’m amazed at the amount of grass and trees here. I could live somewhere like this, except that it’s in Texas. I’ve decided to stay here a day, utilize the library, and try to get a ride to San Angelo tomorrow. From there I’d like to hitch to Fredericksburg and walk to Austin.It gets more dense around there, spotted with little towns until Houston. I may walk further, but for now my feet say commit only to Houston and decide then.

My feelings range from disappointment and guilt to relief, and a plethora of confusions in between. I’d been wrestling with the idea all day, thinking of the utter failure I’d feel if I gave up walking after only 2 days; After all, Austin is only 350 miles away, which is, at this point, a walk in the park. But thinking forward on it, envisioning every day in this searing pain, I couldn’t imagine any experience more like hell. My arches have collapsed, and I can think of nothing more painful to the feet. I feel I’m disappointing a lot of people by throwing in the proverbial towel, but I know my supporters have been concerned about my health and well-being all the while as well, and on some level I’m sure they understand my decision. It’s not entirely quits, I just cannot commit to walking every single mile anymore. My heart isn’t in it if ultimately it comes down to sacrificing my well-being just to prove a point.

9/20/10

I’ve just been given a ball bearing bracelet. It doubles as a weapon, so I’m told. I slept at the courthouse last night, watching barn owls terrorize trees full of birds. It was far too early when people arrived to work, or so I thought. So, hazily, I rose from the dirt and bushes and crossed the dead, dark street to City Cafe.

At about 7:30 the sun still wasn’t up. I ordered a coffee and was offered breakfast; I hesitated.

“You’re a vegetarian, aren’t you? I could tell when I saw you walking around yesterday.” I’ve been getting that a lot lately. I guess in Texas you stick out like a sore thumb being from California, and I suppose most people assume you’re either gay or vegetarian, if not both. The ladies in charge gave me breakfast on the house--hash browns with green peppers and onion, and an English muffin with home-made peach jam. Denise told me, unflinchingly, of her past as a stripper, and how she’d had her windows broken in once for hiring a gay cook. Sadly, the latter part doesn’t surprise me. She let me take a shower at a room she rents out to travelers, and sent me on my way with a care package of veggie foods. Tomatoes, carrots and celery, bulgur, strawberry jam she made herself, pita bread, pinto beans, and Spanish rice! Thanks, Mom!

Hitching out of Sterling was pretty easy; I was trying to get to San Angelo, but decided to get all the way to Fredericksburg because the offer was on the table. That way all the long stretches are out of the way, and I can walk all the way to Florida with no worries! The voyage was one I know I’ll hold for the rest of my life in fond recollection. At first, Bryan and his boss talked mostly to each other while I dozed in and out in the back seat. But once the boss got dropped off, Bryan was full of questions just like anybody else. Perhaps what was so fascinating about Bryan, while I can’t imagine having more than 100 dollars at a time, is that he couldn’t imagine not having several millions. By his demeanor, his way of addressing other people in a down to earth way, you would never know that this man had enough money to buy a small country. Prosperous from an inheritance of big oil stock success, Bryan spends his time working hard as a general contractor. With a couple hundred employees and several enormous projects on his plate, he has a life that doesn’t offer much opportunity for the good old camping out, or walking long distances. He tells me, like maybe a handful of people on this trip have, that he has learned more from me in such a short time than probably anybody he’s met. And he sent me off with 6 bags of trail mix, and the ringing gratitude I have for the hour we spent driving through the hills. I arrived in Fredericksburg with no idea what to do, so I went to a couple of churches in hopes they might let me camp in their yards, since it was expected to rain pretty ferociously. No luck. But the police station was a little more generous, they put me up in a hotel, and again I feel fancy!

9/21/10

Well, it was my day to sleep in, but the “guests” in the adjoining room woke me up at 5:30. Even the budget hotel in this town is pretty snazzy. There were cafe tables outside in a little grassy area, and I got to talk to Sasha on the phone last night.

The forecast has been predicting rain, but so far I couldn’t have envisioned a better weather scheme myself. Just a little sprinkle that makes shimmer all that is green, and what could one find to complain about in that?

A stroll around town finds me at the National Museum of the Pacific War, below

And later, the market square downtown.

In Fredericksburg, this is where you go to the optometrist, and that is where you go to the urologist. I would be at some doctor or other all the time if I lived here. I would develop all kinds of bodily dysfunctions just so I could hang out in the lobbies of places like this.

Fortunately though, I don’t have to become a hypochondriac to find a nice place to waste the day away, behind my journal scribbling away grand epiphanies…I stumbled upon a great coffee shop, undaunted by the hours of philosophical debate I was sure I’d encounter behind its doors. My Yelp review of this place begins like this:

“OK, first of all, I am a seasoned traveler. I am what you might call a coffee snob, accustomed to the finest in Seattle, Portland, Boston, New York, etc. Now Texas, I will say, is better known for its cow than it is its coffee. Granted, I am thoroughly impressed, not only by the coffee and the ambiance, but also with the impossibly open-minded and intelligent discourse I encountered at GGC. It is certainly a Christian coffee shop, but as I do not personally identify as such, I will say that I felt most comfortable and engaged in worthwhile dialogue, and not preached-at in the least. I was welcomed with no questions asked, and that's how I like it. “

After a sufficient session of nerding out on the blog and conversing with Andy, the owner, he offered me probably the coolest place I have stayed on this whole trip. Another point for humanity!

With a view like this, I found less and less reason to leave my room each day. I’ve spent hours of the day talking with Andy, and I find it refreshing that I can get along so well and have such intelligent conversations with somebody of many different views than my own. But, we agree on a lot of things, too. I have felt so much at home here, thanks to Andy, and I have all the gratitude in the world for him. I’m hoping I get to visit Fredericksburg again soon.
The cows outside sound like zombies. Zombies that don’t like rain.

While I walk around town, I think of things that might seem strange to other people; But actually, I think of everyday things, just like everyone, fleeting, sometimes unintelligible fragments of thoughts. Even though my life isn’t as “everyday” as most people might think, I’m thinking about my health today, and how I need to eat in a way that better suits it; I’m thinking about diabetes and that it wreaks havoc on my family. I’m thinking about cancer, and how it has taken the lives of many relatives. And I’m worried about the sweet tooth that I can’t seem to curb, despite my best wishes to be in great health. It puts a little damper on my day, as I chomp down on a cookie I couldn’t resist buying while out getting vegetables. Anyway…Oh look, an antler store…

9/25/10
Perhaps it was the lingering dread of leaving my nice warm bed for nights in the open with the possibility of thunderstorms, but I got a super late start leaving Fredericksburg. In a burst of creativity mixed with laziness I created a smoothie out of most of the food I didn’t want to carry. 6 tangerines, a cup of soymilk, raspberries, an apple, Special K cereal, and last night’s coffee that I didn’t have the heart to throw away. It wasn’t quite as gross as it sounds, but not very marketable either. I rolled over roads through the countryside, stopping to pick up dead butterflies that wouldn’t quite make the backpack commute to be turned into some art project or other. My first porcupine and armadillo sightings in life were dead on the side of the road. I’ve seen a lot of firsts out here in terms of wildlife—but they’ve all been dead. This part of Texas even just smells like dead. Just beyond Wildflower restaurant there was a horrific accident. It’s when I have to see things like this that I become very concerned about my safety on the side of the road, but also very grateful for not being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like when a semi blew off the road a half a mile in front of me or when a truck hit the car in front of it on my last day walking. Today though, being spared injury was of no comfort for what I had seen. A head on collision between an SUV and a small car, the SUV flipped over on its side and the small car obliterated on the other side of the highway. The accident was fatal, and I’ll leave it to common sense for you to figure that one out. The line of cars backed up stretched on for a couple miles, and I had to play reporter to all the people lined up wanting to know what happened. It made great publicity for the walk, and I was feeling chipper, not finding out until later that somebody died in the scene I just passed.
I was sitting outside of the gas station picking up the wifi from an RV park when a couple of guys in a truck rolled up to see what I was doing.I turned around so they could read my backpack, and in a gesture of approval they offered to take me out to dinner, and I accepted. I hopped into the truck, alongside a huge gun, (most people in Texas have huge trucks and huge guns) and we barreled down the road toward one of the two cafes in town. I had the vegetarian option, which in Texas means iceberg lettuce and a sorry tomato, diced. But it was nice to eat, and to enjoy the company of new friends. The night flew past us, and before we knew it 11pm was upon us. Right before bed, I spotted the infamous praying mantis of Chism’s ceiling, munching on some unfortunate soul.

Chism stayed at his family’s ranch home, leaving me with his place all to myself. Now, in California, most of us could never conceive of leaving a complete stranger in our home, with wallet out on desk and cameras and computers laying around. But here, what’s inconceivable is somebody wanting to rob you. It just isn’t a proper thing to do. Thank goodness for Small Town America!
9/26/10.
Suddenly I remember why I hate walking on Sundays in Texas. Nothing is ever open! Getting to Johnson city at the end of a 16 mile walk would leave me, today, with the prospect of breaking camp mid-day without any food or water for the rest of it. It was this insight that aided Chism in convincing me to take the day off, and he offered to let me spend it with him doing ranch work in several nearby towns. With the truck horn as our Pavlovian bell, we plowed through the fields of Brady and wherever else we were, and cows came running in anticipation of being fed. They came from all directions, often running right toward the oncoming truck, looking just about as excited as cows can look.

It’s rarely that I am able to get so close to these not-so- little cuties! I had a wonderful day in the pasture, with Henry the dog on my lap in the truck. At some point in the day Chism got something in his eye that wouldn’t get out. In an effort to help, I found myself peering into a pretty, bright blue iris, heavily contrasted by the pool of red it was swimming in. But no such luck on the helping front, it turned out to be an ulcerated cornea. Ouch! Aside from this kink in the day, it was a good one, and I was sad to part with such good company at the end of the day. But Chism promises me a visit in Portland next year, and with that, a baby Henry.

9/27/10
There’s a smell in the air, long gone from my life but still familiar; at the rest stop just beyond Stonewall the lawn is being mowed. Walking seems to be going by pretty fast today.
Now in Hye, I’ve covered 6 miles in what feels like less than an hour. I know well enough, though, that it’s been closer to two hours, and despite the mounds of energy I have today, my feet are still hurting pretty badly. Hye can’t really be called a town; The only two storefronts on the main drag, which is the highway itself, are Madali creative works and the post office/antique store. I mailed off a postcard and continued without taking a break. I made it to Johnson city with bent ankles, after enduring a 15 mile trek of slanted road shoulder. So, essentially, I walked on my ankles the whole time. Strolling into what Johnson City calls its downtown, I was troubled not to find a single business that appeared open. What happened to this place? Well, there went my plan to grab a snack or some coffee. I hadn’t eaten anything all day, but when I’m walking that’s kind of typical. I was content to just pass out on the lawn in front of the courthouse when a man in a truck approached me with the usual “Are you really walking across America?” The wonderful couple days that followed can only be attributed to an amount of curiosity and graciousness only a fellow walker-across-the-country could muster. After a quick call to his wife, Jason invited me to stay the evening at their new home in the countryside, with their two beautiful children, who, he warned me, have lots and lots of energy. I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect getaway, so we were on our way.
9/28/10
I’m watching from the window a small bird, maybe a barn swallow, hover just beneath the porch ceiling, and then catch a big bug. The sun is barely up, but the birds are already screaming their joy to the universe for being alive, as usual. The mosquito bite on my lip screams something to the universe, too. We enjoyed a nice morning stroll by the creek, crossing through a grove of cypress trees very different from those in California. Little frogs make for themselves a haven here, basking in the shallow water that flows over the road, and hopping out of the way only at the last possible moment.

I spent a good part of the morning holding Ella, the littlest of the family. As I told Julien how excited I was to have my first child, Ella spit up all over my leg, as if on cue, smiling abundantly.

The sunshine on my legs as I rock in the porch swing gives a warmth so gentle and unlike the midday sun I’m used to while out walking in Texas. What a most perfect day, in every possible sense of the word! I’m so very glad I decided to take a day off and enjoy the company of a family that’s come to feel like my own. Harry the cat enjoys the sun, too.

Jason and I pored over the photos from his walk, fondly recalling people who helped on the way and commiserating about slanted roads and icy nights. Now more than 10 years ago, Jason began his own pedestrian journey from San Diego to Maine; Maybe he decided at that point that he hadn’t accomplished quite enough, so he paddled on a canoe he built himself back to Texas. I feel like I can complete my walk now.
Spending time here has uncovered feelings of great anticipation and excitement about starting my own family. Just a year ago, you’d never imagine me saying that I wanted to have children—ever. I really had no idea that this drive was in me, but I suppose there is a sense of security and permanence when you find the person you want to marry.

We went to visit Jason’s parents, and the rest of his family, in Marble Falls. I have to say, they give my family a run for their money. As we sat on the couches and chairs, myself answering his mom’s questions about the walk, one by one, people began to pile into the house, and soon the high ceilings gave opportunity to a bedlam of excited voices. I wasn’t able to convince everybody to get in the photo, but there were about 5 more people around. I could just imagine what Thanksgiving is like around here. They sent me off with batteries for my camera, and lots of well wishes, of course.

Speaking of excitement, Sasha had been emailing me all week about special surprises in a care package he’d be sending to Austin. As it turns out, I have been dilly-dallying, killing time to postpone getting to Austin. When he found this out, he pestered me about it a bit, which made no sense to me, and then had to ruin the surprise that he’s coming to meet me there! So now that I’ve lost two days of walking to sitting around and enjoying myself, I have to double my mileage for two days, making for a 50 mile stretch in a couple days. Yikes! But I don’t mind, I’d walk to the end of the earth for that man.
9/29/10
Ok… I need a real morale booster. Just yesterday Jason and I had an extensive conversation about mis-posted mileage signs, and how much they ruin your life when you’re anxious to get somewhere. This morning, already having to double the miles I planned for today, I find myself STILL 43 miles from Austin, even though I have already walked 8 miles beyond the sign that posted 47 miles to Austin. Somehow, that doesn’t work out, but I suppose sign-makers aren’t always the best mathematicians. So now I find myself on the side of the road, unsure whether Dripping Springs is really more than 24 miles from where I started, or if the discrepancy lies in the miles between it and Austin. It’s been months since I’ve done a day over 20, and 24 is already quite a commitment. Who knows now, it may be 27 or 28, maybe its 30! Who knows? Oh well, I’ve come to expect that no two maps will tell you the same thing. I will plan for 24, and if I have to hitch the last couple miles into town for more than that, I will. There is no way I can make it in time to meet Sasha otherwise.

It’s the end of the day and I’m in Austin. Not surprisingly, all the mileage signs were wrong. And this has been one of the worst highways I could imagine walking. Too many times terrified for my life I ran the span of long bridges, facing fast traffic, with no shoulder and nothing on the other side of the guard rail. I don’t know how many times I nearly had a heart attack today, but enough that I decided walking further would be too much of a risk to my life. About 12 miles before Dripping Springs I was able to catch a ride to Austin, putting behind me the last stretch between Midland and Florida that would be more than 20 miles. When we got into town, Cody persuaded me that I should let him buy me a tent, but we couldn’t find one for a single person. I settled on lunch, but he had to run so I ate solo. And I proceeded to lose his business card somewhere! So, Cody, if you ever read this, send me your contact info!!
The first thing I encountered in Austin, after the cafe, was this strange little half a block dirt path behind Zilker Park, in the neighborhood where I’d be staying. I thought it would be nice to camp here, but within 5 minutes I was covered in mosquito bites. Nevermind!

When I arrived at the home of Brad, Sasha’s best friend, I was greeted first by his enormous and hyperactive yellow lab, Brody. Brad invited me in, once the risk of being knocked over was significantly diminished, and offered me a Lone Star, the crappy beer that Texans are so proud to drink. Soon, though, I was sipping some of the beers that Brad himself made, and we debated about the taste of one particularly savory beer, and whether it could be called brothy, even. Despite the description, it was actually quite good, worthy of entering a contest, no doubt. We mused about black holes and beer, and weird things in Texas like the Wink Sink. Brad is the kind of guy that you just can’t not like, and in fact he’s going to be the best man in our wedding. I look forward to having him in our lives, he makes me laugh. It was a good first night in Austin, I felt like I had an old friend. And when it was time to go to bed I fell into the sleep of one who anticipates something wonderful in the morning, like Christmas presents—that is to say, I wanted to sleep the night away but couldn’t find rest for all the excitement in my brain. And Mona the cat made me sneeze.

So I just sat up and read A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. More thoughts on black holes ensued.

9/30/10
It must have been 6 this morning when Brody went crazy, nearly putting holes in the walls with his log of a tail. There was Sasha, tall and handsome, but the only dark being that under his eyes. Now I know I have the best and most loving fiancé in the world, to surprise me in Austin when we before ruled the trip out as impossible. After another all night drive, he was ready to pass out just about when I was ready to wake up. Oh, this is the life of two people in different cities with completely different lives; though I was too awake to relax and he too tired to talk, we lay in bed together and I pretended that the night had passed in his sleeping company. But I got up after not too long. I sat at a nearby coffee shop for a while, hoping he might get up to join me, but his was the sleep of the dead. 11:30 rolled by and I dragged him out of bed to find some food for us to eat lunch. We tried to watch a movie but all the odds were against us, for some reason. When Brad came home we made our extra special pasta with home-made sauce with vegetables and fake chicken. Finishing the book I was reading helped me fall into a good, deep sleep, hopeful for a day of fun tomorrow.
10/02/10

We spent the morning lounging in the grass on the capitol with Bootlyg. It felt much like when you live somewhere and have a favorite park that you go to every day. Sasha’s parents arrived in the early afternoon from Houston. We went to the dog park, and later to perhaps the best dinner I’ve had since leaving California, at an Indian restaurant so dimly lit that we had to u-turn on the highway several times for missing it. A good old meet the parents dinner, I’d say it went pretty well. I wish they could have stayed in Austin longer, but I’m sure there will be lots to do when we meet in Houston to visit them.
10/03/10
Sasha’s parents took us to Zilker park to let the doggies run around, though we spent most of our time there looking for the leash-free area, and shortly thereafter we got kicked out of the fenced in area we moved barriers to get into. We had lunch of veggie burgers on South Congress, and then they left for Houston. They laid down the offer to stay at their house if I got to Houston before they were back from London, and I am so looking forward to spending time with them there! After they left, we made the most of our last night in luxury by ordering some Chinese food, like real indoor-dwellers do, watching scary movies all the while.

10/04/10
We woke up to our last morning in the hotel, reluctant to have to leave. I enjoyed one final morning of trouncing about town without the weight of my backpack. Sasha left today,after a nice full day of doing nothing in particular, and, of course, drinking coffee.

It’s only been an hour in his absence and I already miss him as much as I had anticipated him getting here only a few days ago.
I decided to just make way for my host’s house when I met Ken. It just so happened that Ken works for Austin’s independent radio station, KOOP, and also that he was on his way to do a show when we coincided. Now I am sitting in the studio of KOOP radio, where I’ll be on the air briefly to answer some questions about my walk. On the wall is posted “The 40 Best Little Radio Stations in the U.S.” and just below it, “NO FOOD OR DRINK ALLOWED IN THE STUDIO. NO EXCEPTIONS.” Through the tinted window I see the lips moving to match the voice that’s broadcasting, only with a slight delay.
Here we are in the studio, just after recording Bringing Light into Darkness, a great source for independent world news; the show comes on at 6pm Mondays on KOOP radio 91.7. If you are interested in learning more about this indy media gem, here’s their website! http://www.koop.org/
You can listen to the show, which features news on recent events in Ecuador, and which includes my brief stint, here! http://lonestarman.net/stuff/BLD_10-4-10.mp3

When I arrived at the “treehouse” from Couchsurfing it was unclear whether I was expected or not. As I tried to log-on to my email to prove my identity to the unconvinced German guy on the porch, the wifi keyword “the cats did it” gave me the reassurance that this place would be fun. I ended up being placed in the upstairs portion of the house, which functioned kind of as a separate household, accounting for the fact that nobody downstairs was expecting my arrival.

Eva and Sam were the first I met upstairs, and immediately they offered me some stuffed zucchini. I liked them right away! They also offered to take me out and about to tour Austin the next day, and this I also gratefully accepted.
10/05/10
“Dear Sasha:
What day is it? I’m a little groggy after listening to the DVD loop of the L word because somebody left it on all night; I venture outside to find that Austin is so big and empty without you, honey. You are the sound that makes silence unbearable.”
Good thing there’s a coffee shop nearby…
After my morning coffee shop romp I was fully ready to enjoy a beautifully sunny day with Sam and Eva. The obvious choice was to spend as much of the day as possible outside, which we did by walking around Town Lake.

The turtles were all sitting on a pad of muck, sunbathing, which is gross, but somehow they make it cute.

And the skippers (not butterflies!) were hanging out on the Greg’s Mist, or at least that’s what I’m told it’s called.

The longer we looked at the water, the more tempting it became, and after awhile we couldn’t resist jumping in.

The girls were initially skeptical about the temperature of the water, but once we got in, I think they’d agree, it was the best idea we’d had all day.
10/07/10
There is something about good weather that makes being alive even more pleasant than it usually is. The grackles in the bushes implore of me some snacks, and the universe says come and play!

The initial feelings of loneliness upon Sasha’s departure have faded into the contentment of long ponderings and excitement for our next visit. It’s hard to believe that a long distance engagement could work, but we have reached the understanding that anybody who has to endure separation from their loved one must reach. There is no room for sadness; if you really love somebody, then they are always with you, present in all the beautiful things you see. The days pass a little more slowly, true. But they are still good.
Chism came to visit, and it helped to dispel the loneliness a little more. Our plan was to stay up all night, since he had to leave in the morning, and had only just arrived at about 9. This, of course, did not happen. I made a valiant effort, but had to turn in around 2, after coffee shop hopping in the late hours and a failed attempt at dumpster diving. Thank you for coming, my friend. We will steal the blinking lights bar sign and ride our bicycles into the midnight hour, our blinking lights bar sign overhead like a halo. Follow us to the bar, the arrow will point the way! Even if nobody else understands what it all means.
10/08/10
Today was Eva’s birthday, and I hope that for her 24 is what it was for me—the best year of my life. But so far 25 has brought its fair share of wonder and amazement too. The first half of my walk took place, Sasha and I fell in love and became engaged, I reconnected with my Dad, and the crazy bus trip and summer of traveling…I’d say it’s been a productive 4 months of 25. So today, since Eva was out with family, I met up with Daniel, my couchsurfing host in Santa Monica right before beginning the walk. It’s apparent by the vast catalog of experiences from our travels in the meantime, but is otherwise unbelievable that 8 months have passed. From being mugged in Syria and laughing it off to getting stuck in Jordan for several weeks, it seems to me Daniel really had a life-changing experience backpacking through the Middle East. He had a lot of good times too, of course, though I think those mentioned were the most interesting. We reminisced our days in Santa Monica over a red velvet cupcake, much like those I dumpstered from Whole Foods there.

I tried to resist, but for some reason they were everywhere today. I had no excuse to break down and eat one, because I later made vegan chocolate cupcakes with avocado chocolate mousse frosting to celebrate Eva’s birthday, and her entrance into my life. Though they were the richest cupcakes I’ve had in my life, they were somehow gone by morning. I think we all felt fat and sassy, to quote my dear friend Joshua, by morning.

I left with plans to meet the girls in Bastrop to go camping, and with that I walked down the street, away from the tree-house that was home for nearly a week. Austin was very different from what I expected, though I’m not disappointed. I definitely don’t see why people would flock here from San Francisco and Portland, because I would much rather live in one of them, but I would certainly come back and visit for an extended time if the opportunity showed itself. If for only one thing, it would be for the fantastic people I now know are here. Thank you all for a wonderful week of living.

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:

https://cms.paypal.com/us/cgi-bin/?cmd=_render-content&content_ID=marketing_us/send_money

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

From Whence We Came, and the Leaving Behind of Things Irreplaceable

2010-09-22T13:52:00.000-07:00

9/1/10-9/20/10

Tucson and Texas

From Whence We Came, and the Leaving Behind of Things Irreplaceable

9/5/10
(Starting the walk back up next week!! Look at older posts up to June for postings during the first half of the walk. )Yet another undocumented week has passed, vacation style, time slipped through my fingers with no regard to the details of the day. It was Thursday when we got here, the 2nd. Sasha had to get right to work, even after a 36 hour stretch of being awake. I was fortunate to be able to nap in one of the rooms of the Journal house, and later in the day we walked over to the Simpson House, where we’d be staying for awhile. Our friends there so graciously agreed to put us up for about a week, until Sasha’s new place was ready. All this moving around the country has made me so grateful for a place to rest my head and put my things down. Here, we had a comfy room to ourselves, a bed to sleep in, and a live-in dog-sitter.

Bootlyg was so excited to find out that there was a grassy park nearby, where he could run and run and run, until sufficiently exercised.

9/6/10
6 am has a feel to it that no other time in the day has. Today marks 4 years. The day lives on in my memory, a vivid and incessantly recurring nightmare; I knew what had happened before any words of distress were uttered on the line from far away. Nevertheless, there was a cell phone on the desk, and a note that said "call your family right away."
No! I was not going to call. Nothing has to be real until you hear the words. It feels, at times, that a day in the universe became confused, miscataloged, an entire history having to be reconciled in a false and desperate jumble. Sometimes it feels like her entire being was a dream in my mind, a false memory; perhaps she never, really, existed at all. Exactly one year ago, I was in New Orleans, wondering if there would ever be a year that I’d forget the day. I still wonder. Today, the morning seemed the only real thing in the universe, the time before anybody is awake. It is, strangely, a lot like that day four years ago that my mom died. Like a dream. As though everybody in the world has vanished, and all that’s left is me.

All alone at the break of day I walk down the sidewalks, often unpaved and so characteristic of Tucson, that mark a period of my life that I will sorely miss when I leave here and walk into the unfamiliar.
I discovered "El Tiradito" Wishing Shrine, and I can see why it is deemed such a special place in the city. According to the plaque on display, El Tiradito commemorates a young man who died fighting for the love of a woman, and this unconsecrated grave is the only one like it of Catholic denomination in the US. People have been coming here for I don’t know how long, submitting their gifts and prayers, and depositing wishes written on slips of paper into cracks in the adobe wall. According to local folklore, if you light a candle and it burns through the night, your wish will come true. Well, I don’t have any wishes at the moment, I’m pretty content with what I’ve got.

The colors of the plant life in the desert are such that I have never seen, in magnificent contrast to the brown and grey of the land. I’ve complained before that Mother Nature created the thorns and the heat of the desert with a particular vengeance…

But she surely did have a good eye for color. The poppies here totally put our California State poppies to shame.

9/9/10
I met some kids from the No More Deaths mission in the desert, one giving the other a stick n’ poke; Fond memories of traveler kids across time and space come to mind. I’ve played witness to many a homemade tattoo, having been at times tempted to get one myself. The one below was inspired by a card made by a child, to be placed with survival gear in the desert. The message on the back of the card, and the part of the the tattoo covered in this photo, reads, Bien viaje, or good travels. Appropriately marking this message on his leg, my new friend has a forever testament to the humanitarian work he’s doing. Whatever your views on the immigration laws, nobody should be denied humanitarian aid, and no human being should, in such practice, be degraded to the point of death. The No More Deaths website is headed with their motto, “Humanitarian aid is never a crime.” Some gruesome footage of the injuries and suffering of these walkers would convince even the hardest of heart of the merit of this work, along with the staggering statistic found at the top of the page: Deaths on AZ border since Oct. 1, 2009: 238
Give them some support today!

Thanks to the 4th ave Co op and 17th st Market, we’ve been eating really well. It also helps being in one place where we can keep our food, and having an awesome, spacious kitchen to cook in! We’ve had a few sushi nights, one of which saw the perfect duplication of the udon and avocado rolls they sell at Rainbow Grocery in San Francisco. I’ve also been super stoked about the variety of mochi and other Asian snacks.

And before I knew it, it was time to say goodbye to Tucson, yet again.

9/13/10
Under the freeway the air is a jumble of sounds. Framed perfectly by the looming overpass are the mountains in the distance. I see them through a cloud of exhaust that makes me sneeze. I can taste the faintest hint of blood in the fluid that drains down my throat; People aren’t meant to sit in places like this. Despite, I am filled with love as I sit here, love for all the world, waiting for just the right kindly soul to pick me up. Last night being my last in Tucson, I had a goodbye get-together at the Journal house. Over vegan pasta and chocolate cupcakes I shared one of those now rare moments of communion with friends. My life has come to be such that these moments are usually goodbyes. I laughed and loved, perhaps more than most do with people they scarcely know. But that doesn’t matter to me, every person is a treasure to me these days. Three people have stopped to offer me rides now, each prospect falling short of the state line. I’m tempted just to go, to cover some ground, to get out of here. But that’s not smart. I’m thinking of Sasha, and that he’s only a bus ride away, and that is temptation enough to throw my whole independent life down the drain to have the security of his arms. I’m thinking of the choking, paralyzing difficulty with which we utter “goodbye” when roads must unfold beneath our feet. And I remember the smell of magnolias, and watching the bees. I remember what enchantment can be found, just beneath the surface of the day when you are a lover.

Everything is beautiful. Somehow there is a clarity in life that has eluded me until now. And if I had to die today, at least I’d have known the happiness that I’ve always longed for, never having imagined that it actually existed. In the earliest of hours this morning, my eyes protested the sight of the gaining twilight, and my soul pressed its retreat into sleep, where time goes away and precious hours are forever preserved in catatonic embrace. I wished I could stay right there in that spot forever, looking into Sasha’s eyes, now glassy with the beginnings of tears for the long separation that would soon follow.
Misanthropy is a common feeling among hitch-hikers who don’t get picked up. After what was probably an hour and a half, my restlessness began to get the better of me, driving me to feelings of resentment for every capricious driver passing me by, no care in the world while leaving me there in that blender of smells and noise. But finally, as is usually the case when my spirits get down on me, a friendly looking man drove past and motioned me to follow. This is the part where I always feel I look foolish, onlookers laughing to themselves as I chase down a truck that often looks as though it’s not going to stop—a mean trick. But sure enough, he pulled over on the entrance and it just so happened that Marty, that’s his name, was traveling the I-20 and not the I-10, through Pecos and Midland, all the way to Tyler. An almost impossible luck! We drove all day to get to Pecos, through the darkest of clouds, which seemed to hint at impending death; we agreed on environmental issues, that the state is fascist, and that voting nationally doesn’t have such a political impact as where you spend (or don’t spend) your money. Hitching has never scared me, in general. I’m with Anne Frank, I believe that people are good at heart; But somehow we are made to think that danger is lurking around every corner, and fearsome are the poor, those of color, and new ideas. Maybe we should all have a little more mercy on one another. With enough talking, I think people at the highest odds could learn to find some common beliefs, and walking through Texas, believe me, has been the test.
I found myself at the Christian Home where I stayed the first time I passed through Pecos. It was too late to knock on the door, so I just camped in the back yard, dreaming of the cozy interior I was missing.

The night passed, thankfully, without event, except for once being stalked by a cat. I laughed and went back to sleep. I awoke several times throughout the evening, ravished by flesh devouring mosquitoes, and finally at 5am by a light turning on inside. I stood up carefully, looking into the mesh-covered porch, and saw a lady with her back turned to me, fidgeting with a coffee maker. Why she was making coffee on the back porch, I couldn’t figure out, but I had bigger concerns at the moment. I thought for a minute as to how I’d greet her without causing heart attack, and then, as softly as I could, I said “good morning, I didn’t want to scare you but—” She turned around much faster than she looked like she’d be able to, especially considering the broken hip I learned about later. At this hour of the morning, her voice fits a great analogy I’m sorry that I already used for something else, though I don’t remember quite what it was—maybe the way an ex snored--and can’t say this particular property of sounding like a cinder block being dragged down asphalt by a metal chain is unique to her. But in any case, I was worried for a minute that coming to Pecos was a bad, bad mistake. “Who the HELL are you?” she rasped. I could feel the adrenaline building up as I tried to explain just that, as quickly and concisely as possible. “Well…I’m a friend of the house. Oh, and Maria! She let me stay here before, and I came here last night but it was too late, so I just camped in the back yard. I wanted to let you know I was here so that I wouldn’t frighten you when you came out.” “OK…but who ARE you?” she asked, sounding, in my opinion, a little too much like the caterpillar in Alice and Wonderland. (The old one, when they still knew how to make movies) I told her my name, knowing it would mean absolutely nothing to her, that being the reason I hadn’t used it to describe who I was in the first place. But it seemed to suit her, and she invited me in. I plopped down on the bed, feeling the anxieties of the day sink down into the soft, warm mattress, away from me and the world of dreams I’d soon be entering.
I slept a good portion of the day, drained of energy by the trek, and of blood by the mosquitoes.
9/15/10 Today I met Mr. Winkles. I learned from him that society is an equal playing field, anybody who wants to work can. There is no surplus of whey or corn. JP Morgan is certainly not funding the food stamps program. Absurd! (I will agree with that, absurd!) What the hell is the food pyramid? The USDA does not simply lie to people to get them to patronize certain industriess. His main news source? Fox News. I can’t even keep a straight face at that one.
By the way, I would highly encourage you to look into the food stamps thing further, as this situation is pretty much the definition of fascism.

AND

http://solari.com/blog/?p=3309

9/16/10
Oh my goodness! It’s hard to believe I’ll be going back to Midland tomorrow. I wonder what it will be like walking 20 miles a day again, after being sedentary all summer. I think the most I walked was 15 miles. The weather report is a little daunting too. Thunderstorms from Wednesday to Saturday. In the room the old lady and her dog are grumbling at each other. She just called him a snotbox. She came out to get him some water, and now she is making her way to the room, grumbling the whole way down the hall. He isn’t barking at her anymore, but by her tone I sense that he is being indecisive again. They seem to be meant for each other, and I like them. I miss Bootlyg the more I hear those two grumbling at each other.

Outside it smells like lightning and the temperature is perfect. Coming back to the house from the library earlier, I got caught in a splendid drizzle, which was accompanied by eye-piercing lightning and heart-stopping thunder. The downpour I avoided left the streets submerged almost entirely, so getting home meant running in the center of the road, skirting reservoirs as cars sped past, passing me in the wrong lane to get by. I quickly said yes to the first ride offer, not discerning whatsoever this fellow’s character, and hopped into his truck as quickly as I was able. It was a short ride anyway. I landed in a couple of puddles wrong, but I should give myself more credit. How do you land in a puddle right? A foreshadowing of days to come. I greatly look forward to marching forward, through the day and into an evening spread out against an Eliot-esque sky, “like a patient etherised upon a table.” You should read some T.S. Eliot. Here, I’ll make it easy.
The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock

Love, Shay
ALL of the photos are now here:

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. I rely primarily on the kindness of others, and upon the faith that everything I need I will find in one way or another. The immeasurable 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. Thank you to all who have contributed, big or small. It’s all big to me. If you would like to make a donation
for food you may do so by clicking here:
https://cms.paypal.com/us/cgi-bin/?cmd=_render-content&content_ID=marketing_us/send_money
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

Life, through Turns Curious and Unending

2010-09-08T16:37:00.000-07:00

7/22/10-9/1/10

Portland, San Francisco, Monterey

Life, Through Turns Curious and Unending

7/22/10

The flight to Portland was never-ending and miserable, my fears of which had been heightened by lengthy plane-horror stories last night between Donny and Sasha. Thanks, guys! Turbulence is scarcely the word for the terrifying jolts and drops we underwent. I spent a good deal of our layover throwing up, then filling my empty stomach with garbage fries. You know, fries that you get out of the garbage. But I threw those up somewhere over Montana. We finally touched down, and as I stumbled off the plane, spinning and falling into walls, I swore once more that I'd never fly again. No, really, this time really is the last time.

Waiting at the baggage claim was my dear friend Joey, who used to walk around the neighborhoods of Portland with me, petting every doggy and kitty we saw. He had come to rescue us from the airport, and after getting lost in the parking lot for an unusually long time, we wound down a ramp, deliberately designed to trouble airsick passengers, toward the place that was once home, or something like home anyway. Despite my intense urge to vomit, I was thrilled to be reunited with Joey. After a brief tour of his house, and by this time it was probably about 9:00, he took us back to the Bubonic House in North Portland. Not much has changed there. With a seemingly endless rotation of tenants, the house doesn't feel as much like home as it used to; then again, having had no personal space and sleeping patterns that were utterly determined by the whims of obscure late night patterns and irrational volume etc., I admit that it never really did. Tonight was no different. After cleaning off the couch in the basement, we were ousted to sleep on the couch upstairs, where everybody agreed it would be more quiet for us and where we could be out of the way. Or so we thought. After a couple of hours, the congregation moved to the living room, again, where we agreed we'd be out of the way. Not understanding our absolute exhaustion, my former roommates thought us insensitive for asking what we could do about getting some sleep. Go figure.

7/23/10

Tired doesn't even begin to describe the feeling in me this morning. We dragged ourselves out of bed to enjoy all that Portland has to offer, or at least as much as we could cover on foot in a day. The first order of business was breakfast, coordinating with my friend Justin on the way there. We chose Vita Cafe, one of my favorite places to eat in Portland, along with the Bye and Bye. As usual, Justin was late. But this is forgivable; to my great and happy surprise, Elizabeth waltzed in alongside with a huge grin on her face. After a round of introductions, we got down to business.
As usual, I got my faux turkey Florentine--sautéed tofu cubes and faux turkey on a bed of spinach, smothered with vegan hollandaise sauce, all on top of an English muffin--and some coffee. Here's a picture of it from the road trip last year.

When we were through with breakfast, we moseyed down from the Northeast into the Southeast, making a stop at The Waypost on the way.

The Waypost, my favorite coffee shop in town, is a locally owned gem in Portland, with all the character you’d find on the Lower East side. With the ambient lighting and retro couches, I could lounge the day away, drinking Stumptown coffee prepared just right. The Waypost also hosts live music, shows films, and holds interesting discussion forums. You can even catch a Sunday Brunch that rivals my own! And perhaps the best feature of this establishment, killer soup! An entire menu of healthy, reasonably priced food, all made in house, supplements the charm of this place. We came down in hopes of seeing the owner--my friend Michael, but to my great surprise he takes days off sometimes now. So we just shared a vegan sandwich and cookie, and met a nice kitty on the back patio.

Only a couple of blocks away is the School and Community Reuse Art Project, or SCRAP, where I used to volunteer. If I haven't described it before, this place is awesome! It's everything an artist could dream of in one building. Imagine walking into a huge warehouse, aisles full of art supplies of any type.

What can you find at SCRAP?

The SCRAP store, open to the public seven days a week, sells all kinds of reused materials for arts, crafts, and scrapbooking, plus school, office, and party supplies. We also offer some new convenience items such as glues and brushes. The store changes everyday as we are accepting new donations constantly, you never know what you’re going to find!

Things you may find here include:

yarn, fabric, and sewing notions

paper of all colors and sizes

items donated by local businesses and manufacturers

colored pencils, chalk, pens and stamps

greeting cards for every occasion

wood in a variety of shapes and dimensions

Learn how to donate your materials!

How are the prices so low?

Because most of our stock is donated by individuals and businesses we can keep prices low- usually at about one quarter of the retail cost. Every penny spent at the store goes back into supporting SCRAP’s mission.

New Materials at SCRAP

Lithography (printmaking) ink – $2 per pound

Vinyl and vinyl banners – 50 cents to $6 each

Even more new and vintage fabric – $2 per yard

Ceramic molds – $3-$6 each

School Supplies (notebooks, binders, pens, pencils, etc.

Walking around Hawthorne, I found propped up against the wheel of a sparkly new Bianchi a tiny, downy little sparrow, completely unphased by all the busy sidewalk action. Sasha named her Abigail.

For such a small and vulnerable creature, sitting on the sidewalk is a complete defiance of instinct. She must have fallen out of a tree, been injured, and then been abandoned by mama bird. Luckily for her, I've been a mama bird to my own little one for 10 years now, and to many injured little ones since.

Not sure where to go with her, we wandered around Hawthorne some more looking for an appropriate temporary housing, like a box or something. She was completely unresponsive, not a good sign. With her being too small to eat anything solid, I was worried about how I'd get something in her belly. It just so happened that my cousin Rene and his partner Eric lived only a few blocks away, a fact I'd just come to find out earlier in the day. Rene was home, and he made a beautiful home for Abigail out of a used Wheat Thins box. She seemed happy enough there, with Sasha's handkerchief as padding for her hurt little foot. We mixed up some protein powder and water, force tipping it into her beak with a spoon. After a few drops, her voracity picked up, and she frustratedly bit at the spoon. She was able to swallow, all in all, about a spoonful that night, and I could tell she felt better already. I was no longer afraid she wouldn't make it through the night as I had been earlier.

Here, the days melt into one another, as time seems to do when you don’t catalog its events. I abandon the attempt at reporting events in the proper sequence. I have no idea what happened on which day, so. If there are some things that don’t make sense sequentially, your guess is as good as mine!

One of my favorite places in the city, the lovely Ira Keller Fountain. It’s a welcome oasis to the traveler weary from the summer sun. Bootlyg sits in my arms, terrified of the water. Children splash around me, shrieking in joyful, flailing fun. Out of all the public spaces in the country, the Ira Keller Fountain is probably the most pleasantly interactive. Unlike all too many public spaces, this fountain welcomes the public to splash around, befriending total strangers in the child-like bliss that comes out of a good water fight. From WalterLockley.com:

Like the Apollo program, the Ira Keller fountain in downtown Portland Oregon is an accomplishment from the 70's that we as a society could now barely manage. It's a loud and playfully interactive physical expression of civic values that today seem too liberal and humane to be true, and, in that wonderful sneaky ability of environments to set our social expectations, it perpetuates those values. Protecting this fountain has a practical social benefit.

In 1981's Process Architecture, Halprin described his intent this way:

In Portland I attempted to do two things: the first of these was to develop a long eight block sequence of open spaces, promenades, nodes of plazas and parks with a mix of public space and private space interwoven. Along this progression are a diversity of uses - housing, apartments, shops, restaurants, offices, auditorium. The space is choreographed for movement with nodes for quiet and contemplation, action and inaction, hard and soft, yin and yang. The second basic approach was to bring into the heart of downtown activities which related in a very real way to the environment of the Portland area - the Columbia River, the Cascade mountains, the streams, rivers and mountain meadows. These symbolic elements are very much a part of Portlanders' psyche…. Finally these places were for the first time designed to be used to be participatory - NOT just to look at - they say COME IN, not stay off

Below, the Lone Fir Cemetery and the Pied Cow during a late night venture for hummus and a Belgian beer.

There’s nothing like an early breakfast! Here, my friend Davis shows off his tater-tot castle-building skills. Ketchup for finishing touches, and a vegan corndog.

Later in the day, Sasha and I beckoned to the dumpster gods, and lo and behold! Vegan chocolate cake!

We joined another good cause this evening, teaming up with friends Justin and Patrick as photographers; hamming it up for the camera, we helped create a poster advertising “Rock Out to Walk Out,” a show benefitting Powell’s Books employees’ strike fund. Read more about it here.

I regret that my camera was dead this day. I got to spend it with one of my favorite people, my fellow vegan crafty awesome lady Kristin! Hot as it was, we had no choice but to find the nearest water. In her zipcar we hurtled across the St. John’s bridge on the outskirts of town, toward Sauvie Island. There’s no photo-cred on this one, I looked. But here’s the bridge, and thanks to whoever took the photo! Well, I haven’t been to all the bridges in the world, but I’d venture to say this is one of the nicest I’ve seen.

I remember a day back in winter, riding bikes with all the layers that could be mustered, sitting at a park with Kristin and Davis overlooking the Willamette River. Appropriately enough, the park is called Overlook Park. Here, my friends and I looked down at the water and all the train tracks, the mountains in the distance. For some reason, Davis was spitting bread crumbs everywhere and making a mess. I suppose he has a talent with food…?

Bikini-clad and ready for some swimming, Kristin and I enjoyed each other’s company as much as only long parted friends can appreciate one another. Spending a few good hours laying in the sand and swimming in the calm, cool water, I think we pretty much meshed out all our lives’ problems with each other’s help. As always, some creepy frat-type boys sat down near us, trying to get our attention with their beer-chugging skills and creative insults to one another. Fortunately, we were just about ready to go when they tried to join us.

They seemed disappointed. “Hey, where are you going? Don’t you know the party’s just getting started?” Haha, yeah…no…

Things are getting really confusing in my memory at the moment…so I’ll just move on to a different event.

After a bittersweet goodbye, we left Abigail in the hands of a trusted friend of a friend, and she was, hopefully, on her way to the birdie sanctuary where her wing could be splinted.

7/28/10

Portland flew by with all the chaos of a rushed visit. This morning followed the trend as we scrambled across town with all our things to meet up with our early morning, last minute ride. Somehow, we managed to make it on time: “Crazy efficient,” Sasha says. I'd attribute it more to bizarre happenstance than anything.

7/29/10
Over a cup of coffee, I slowly realize that San Francisco is mine, perhaps not to share with another. When last I shared my city with a lover, a bitter memory haunted me long after we parted, my solo excursions ruined by a ghost for sometime thereafter. This is my place to mope around, contemplating the very aloneness of life as the fog chills my lungs. Love and parting are on my mind right now. Sasha and I had a fight this morning, fleeing from one another without resolution, in the utmost of contempt and resignation. It's true, by the end of the day I could be in serious distress. For the past month, many things around me have come crashing down, leaving me in the wreckage. But for some reason, I feel alright. I'm listening to 80s music, remembering after too long without it that brown sugar is my favorite thing to put in coffee. Maybe I owe this irrational calm to the many times I've survived the utter destruction of my life. A new stoicism replaces youthful volatility as I breathe slowly in and then out. Or maybe it's because I realize after many similar flights, I'm not such a good partner--or friend, or travel companion. I'm demanding, unreasonable, stubborn...and I rarely bathe on top of all this. Sure, these things aren't so obvious at arm's length, but come too close to my orbit and I'll devour you. Or, at least, that's how it seems at times, as I survey my octopus's garden of failed relationships and disgruntled ex-friends. Maybe all people feel this way sometimes, and the vague possibility of this makes me feel slightly less deranged. Maybe this is every person's dark secret, and maybe there's hope of fixing me yet. Or maybe, the more I think about it, I am just being overly dramatic for the sake of having something to write. Deep down I know things are OK between me and my companion. I’m not a horrible partner, and I haven’t completely ruined this relationship. It’s just a fight. By the end of the day I can’t imagine that we wouldn’t be absolutely relieved to see each other.Now it is late, but my day is far from over. Sasha and I realized the error of our ways, flinging into each other's arms upon reunion. But there's still an issue: between the two of us there isn't a friend who wouldn't be inconvenienced by our asking to stay. Dianna's in the midst of a big move, Sasha's friend has a guest already, everybody else I know has moved away or is an opportunist. And at the moment, I have nothing opportune to offer. I've no qualms about outdoor city sleeping, but the city is dangerous, and the night, cold. There are more crazy, belligerent, screaming, flailing homeless here than in any city I've been to, even, or maybe especially, in the shelters. This won't be the first time I wander all night to avoid being robbed or freezing to death. Trying to kill time, we went into Sparky's, a 24 hour diner that boasts all the appropriate greasy offerings.

Spilling all my remaining enthusiasm for the idea of staying up all night, my eyelids drooped down my face. We walked around forever, looking for a place to sleep.

7/30/10
We awoke in violent convulsions, the misty cold air seeping into our joints. Actually, we probably didn't fall into a real sleep at any point anyway. Deliriously cold and almost imperceptibly damp, we stumbled out of the bushes and into the night, again in feeble pursuit of refuge. Though San Francisco is renowned for its staggering homelessness, it can hardly be construed as homeless friendly. The benches aren't friendly, the sprinklers aren't friendly, the cops aren't friendly. After what seemed like hours of pursuit, we settled into a garbage alcove under somebody's porch. We triggered a motion sensor light placed to deter sleeping there, and bathed in its halogen glow curled up in a rug we'd found on the sidewalk. In the end, I think it was the rug that saved our lives, since we'd left our sleeping bags at a friend's house. In the obscene hours of morning a crazy person mounted the steps overhead, again and again, peeking into the mail slot, muttering incoherently. I was too tired to care. If tonight was my night to be stabbed to death, at least I'd have had some rest.
The sunrise was our welcome chance to venture, though we had a short day to do so.
The sun shines a spectacular shine today, and from Russian Hill, the world below stretches out forever before me.

.

We caught the train at about 5, and I , for once, was glad to leave the city. Dad came to pick us up; he was an hour late, and though he had good reason, I wouldn't have expected anything else. At this point in my life, it doesn't bother me. That's just Dad. A new an improved version of himself, infinitely more considerate than ever before, he dropped us off at the house, and upon remembering that we wanted to go to the grocery store went out to find us tofu and soy milk at 11pm. He didn't remember where Safeway was, but he didn't come back until he'd found it.
7/31/10
The first true day of leisure we've had on this vacation. Dad had to go to work, but he left us with enough money to get lunch ingredients at the market. I utilized this free day to work on my quilt and some other mending projects. It seems like we ate all day. Dad took us down to Monterey and I laughed at the absurdity of the conversation he had with Sasha as he tried to explain an Iphone game. "I don't get it, they're all sparkly," Sasha said, sounding a trifle too concerned. "No, that's good, you have to get four of those in a row," he explained with an excited, borderline violent slash of the arm across the car, then opening his hand in an abrupt demonstration of explosion, "Then it blows up. Then you have this swirly ball thingy. And when that blows up, you get some other shit. I don't know, I haven't got that far."
We surprised Ruth by showing up to her art show at Youth Arts Collective, or as it's more familiarly known, YAC. This truly was a home-coming, her parents, our friends, and a dozen other people I know, all excited and surprised to see me. Everybody said how much they always look forward to reading my stories. I felt like a celebrity.

8/1/10
The sky is white.

8/2/10
Sigh. Coming back home, I'm reminded again that things and people change. When you leave a place, life goes on without you; new friendships grow, people leave, projects end. Sometimes everything appears different, and you wonder what your place is. You can stay and grow roots, but what do you have to come back to once you leave? I'm not suggesting that there isn’t anything—your friends most likely still love you, your family is supportive in their own way—but the dynamics between people change; It's uncertain and discomforting sometimes. I leave places so often I've come to wonder if I belong anywhere, or ever can. I find myself asking, "is there anybody who calls me best friend?" Sadly, I don’t know.
8/3/10
My legs turn to cement, defying the impulse to run, to chase the van that carries my love away. Our summer together is over. I fight the tears as I stand alone on the empty sidewalk, but kept inside they paralyze me. It’s time for Sasha to go back to work. The Earth First! crew has made their way down the coast, whisking him away to Tucson once again.
8/4/10
For the first time in 2 months, I woke up all alone. I nearly gave in to the temptation to stay in bed all day. Uninspired by the morning, all that ousted me was the all too vast emptiness of my bed. At 7:30 I dragged myself into the cold, white air, making the 5 mile trek to nowhere in particular. Hugging the coast line I stumbled through my loneliness, the sky and ocean coming together as one gray smear across the atmosphere. My hair is an unruly mass of waves and curls in the dewy air. I met up with Joshua and Roxanne. We did all the things there are to do in Monterey, which is get coffee and then do nothing.
8/5/10
We are on our way back to Monterey from the film screening in Big Sur. Ruth and I are in the back seat, and the night is pitch. We are winding through trees that I know are there, though I can't see them. A gleam of light from who knows where catches Ruth's face, and in this stolen glimpse I am struck with a painfully deep and nostalgic love. I am hoping nobody notices that I've begun to cry. I am thinking of last summer, remembering the impossibly wonderful things that are now behind us.
When you leave a place, all the people and things that tie you to it drift away, painfully slowly, but they are so many and going in so many directions. You stand there helplessly as the bits of your life diverge, irrecoverably from you, like photos floating away in fast water. You can leave a place, but you can never come back to it.
This is why loving people is so hard.
All I can see is the ending of things.
8/7/10
I went home last night for the first time in days and slept in my own bed. There's nothing quite like it. And the view from my bedroom window was absolutely unrivaled, the burning sky above the ocean showcasing an unbelievable brightness of colors just for me.

Walking outside this morning, I embrace the thick mist permeating my cold skin, and revel in the almost always white sky.

I think about the day as it begins to unfold. I feel my feet with each step on the pavement and I think of the days to come. The world seems, for a rare moment, and offering of clarity and ripe opportunity. The streets are unusually populated for 9am, and my coffee shop a chaotic tangle of bodies and sounds, and I remember now that it's Saturday. Walking or riding a bike anywhere is going to be hell today. I hate tourist season like any faithful resident of a beautiful place going to pieces with all the development and traffic. Their rental cars crowd the streets of my daily peaceful commute, their children terrorize the wildlife I'm trying to photograph, their McDonald's fries litter the beach and fatten the seagulls. They come and then go, leaving my home a visible wreckage, evermore creating a demand for fancy hotels and Imax theaters that used to be unique, historic buildings. Go home!

I miss walking down the beach with Sasha, rescuing the blue crabs that washed up in abundance on the shore. I'm reminded of the short story, "A Single Starfish" by Loren Eisley:

One day an old man was walking along the beach. It was low tide, and the sand was littered with thousands of stranded starfish that the water had carried in and then left behind. The man began walking very carefully so as not to step on any of the beautiful creatures. Since the animals still seemed to be alive, he considered picking some of them up and putting them back in the water, where they could resume their lives.

The man knew the starfish would die if left on the beach's dry sand but he reasoned that he could not possibly help them all, so he chose to do nothing and continued walking. Soon afterward, the man came upon a small child on the beach who was frantically throwing one starfish after another back into the sea. The old man stopped and asked the child, "What are you doing?"

"I'm saving the starfish," the child replied.

"Why waste your time?... There are so many you can't save them all so what does is matter?" argued the man.

Without hesitation, the child picked up another starfish and tossed the starfish back into the water... "It matters to this one," the child explained.

8/9/10
Eight Nine Ten. The date is forever emblazoned in my mind, scrawled upon endless forms which will determine my eligibility for temporary urban survival. Though I strictly avoid conventional means of eating and sleeping, I somehow manage to find myself in some bureau or other on rare, but not rare enough, occasion. This is life? For some, yes. Hours pass. 5 people ahead of me, though I've already seen 6 people called. People exit rooms, looking perhaps more dejected than when they'd entered. For some reason, maybe bureaucracy for its own sake, numbers have stopped being called after this fortunate 6th person, who, I might mention, should have been me. 30 minutes passed and I inquired about the wait of a man who could only tell me how many people were ahead, but not how long it would take, adding, quite unnecessarily, that he had no control over that. There were 2 people ahead of me, and he explained, almost visibly wincing at the absurdity of my dismay, how this made nothing less than absolute sense. I failed to see the light. Refusing to be reduced to a number, I convinced myself that there IS more to life than serialization, more than a system of numbers and paper exchange, more than the incessant routine of waking, working, eating, worrying about money, and sleeping, that, for many, fills the sad space between being born and dying. I don't have time to regret not living that life--I'm busy living and loving real life.
8/10/10
Summertime is made for catastrophe. Fortunately for me, catastrophe catapulted my love seaward. As it turns out, the van that the Earth First! crew acquired (when the bus broke down at last, completely,) wanted to stay in California. Blythe, as comedian George Lopez points out, is a place populated entirely by people whose cars broke down on the I-10. The crew really had to get back to Tucson to start work on the Journal, and somebody had to stay behind with the van to get it fixed. Of course, the obscure part would take several days to arrive, which…well, it never did. So, tired of sitting, day after day, in a stuffy old van in the desert, Sasha found a ride back to Monterey, leaving the van with the mechanic who would fix it when the part arrived. Yay!
8/19/10
What a spectacular day! We piled in the car to go to the Big Sur International Film Screening, a favorite venture for the Food not Bombs crew last year, and an experience I would share with Sasha for the first time. We’d spent the whole day in Big Sur, drinking beer and skipping rocks in the river like old times. By the time we’d lost the sun, we were thoroughly ready for the films to start. It was chilly, and we were tired, so we decided to drive down to the Henry Miller Library and wait outside the gates in the car. Sasha went for a walk, and we still had about an hour until it started. He came back after a few minutes with an apparent discovery that I had to see. I half-complainingly said to him “It better be really awesome, because It’s really cold and I was enjoying myself in the car.” He took my hand, and we walked on the gravel shoulder up the curve of the road, looking down at monumental redwoods, and beyond them, the just missed sunset. At a well known spot, he abruptly stopped, in fact, almost frightening me out of my serene gaze of the horizon. Surprised and unsure what “thing” I was supposed to be observing, I said “Well, we missed the sunset…I hope that’s not what you were trying to show me.” He then got down on his knee and asked me to spend the rest of my life with him. To be honest, I’ve never seen marriage even as a remote possibility in my life, especially not before 30. But when I looked down at his face and into the sincerest of eyes, there was no question in my mind that this was the person I wanted to be with forever. Elated at my response, he jumped up and ran over to some bushes, excitedly explaining that he’d gotten some french fries from Nepenthe, a super fancy restaurant, and and hid them there. We decided to momentarily break our vow of veganism for a celebratory slice of the best banana cream pie ever to wreak havoc on my intestines. And we spent an evening under the redwoods, watching foreign films on a silver screen in the dark, holding hands and inwardly celebrating our having found one another.
8/21/10
We're here in Carmel, after an all day walk from ghetto to golf course. We stopped in Pacific Grove, the small town I remember best for colorful Victorians and majestic Monarch butterflies so numerous as almost to be a pestilence, covering so completely any imaginable surface. From its calf-wrenching hills, we looked behind us to the serene sapphire ocean. 7 miles into the walk and feeling wonderful, I'm happy to be keeping myself in good walking shape. Through the trees of the famous 17 mile drive, we floated along, witness to so rare a pleasure as this fee drive. Those few of us so inclined to walk, and many cyclists, enjoy a free entry. For the first time in my life I did not get kicked out of the heavily patrolled rolling green of Pebble Beach golf course, the gem of scenery at the end of our walk. I can't imagine why they were so nice to us, which is sad, because I can't imagine why they'd been so otherwise before. With the signs everywhere proclaiming the utter unwelcome of outsiders, it's a shame that such beautiful places in the world can be restricted to a few "special" people.
We arrived in Carmel with a few minutes of sparse sunlight remaining. We're going to camp out for the next couple of nights. Grandma has been in a state of constant agitation; she supplemented a recent conversation with Sasha about my waste of a life and talent by doing something so stupid as traveling, spewing her discontent at various other things. I've long since stopped trying to please other people. There's always something. There always has been. I've surmounted the discouragement of my dreams, which once forced me into the corner of self-consciousness and blind conformity. Now I live for myself! As I fall asleep in a nook of cypress trees overlooking the white sand beach, a light mist settles on my face. The moonlight hits the crashing waves, casting a magical silver glow. I'm sad for those who won't know the satisfaction of free living, but I'm overjoyed to be here in this most perfect moment.
8/27/10
I finally finished the blog posting from Boston and New York. I've never been so frustrated with technology in my life! I'm so glad to have it done! I've had a few too many cups of coffee today. We've been at my Dad's since Tuesday night, and on Wednesday went to see him play in Moss Landing.

Perhaps it was only a farce of humility, but Dad said he wasn’t too impressed by his performance. Regardless, it was awesome.
After a scintillating conversation about pinworms and dumpster diving, he was amped for some adventure. He practically begged us to let him tag along on our late night grocery procurement. Unfortunately for him, and for us, there were people still working near the dumpster. We went home empty-handed, and watched Frailty.

Yesterday was a pretty wonderful day. We ended it by watching the Shining and a dumpster run,
which was mildly fruitful.

We spent another lazy day at Dad's house, mostly because he didn't feel like driving us back to Monterey. Fine by me! We went out for Thai with Tina and Dad, and they were both itching for an excursion after dinner (a couple glasses of wine upped the enthusiasm, I'm sure!) Our finds convinced them that they don't need to spend all that much on groceries anymore. Tina was more than excited at what we found, and happily took photos for the memory.

Bell peppers!

8/28/10

Tonight was the most prolific night of scavenging. Here’s what we found:
3 bags of kettle chips, 2 kinds
1 chocolate macaroon cake
2 tetra pak rice milks
9 sodas
...2 4-pack mango blueberry muffins
1 package tortellini
1 bag of pretzel nuggets
5 pack almonds
1 box cereal
half a watermelon
2 6 pack applesauce
2 dijon mustards
1 sparkling water
1 bottle of red wine
1 tub sundried tomato feta
1 package colby jack
2 cans pinto beans
1 can black beans
2 bags plantain chips
1 lb bar of dark chocolate
1/2 gallon half and half
1 tub hummus
1 jar cocktail sauce
1 bottle watermelon juice
1 bag frozen white corn
7 bananas
1 gallon sweet tea
TONS of flowers.

While I stuff my face with key lime pie, Sasha and Maddie make strange, excited faces for pita chips and licorice, respectively.

8/31/10
August is over! This morning I wake up feeling like I got kicked in the ribs last night, all night. My limbs are cramped and sore, as though from having slept in a cramped, cold, hard place, with somebody who takes up a lot of space when they sleep…oh yes. That is because I slept on a ledge, under some bushes, the branches of which were digging into my ribs as Sasha rolled me into them all night. And it was cold. We got into San Francisco yesterday on the train from my Dad’s, spent the day walking around, and called it a night pretty early. We had lunch with Dianna today, and on the way back to her new place in Berkeley, which we are all still very excited about, and our propensity toward vehicular disaster made its way into the situation. The car stalled as we were driving away from the gas station, on a particularly busy street; Despite the hazard lights, everybody around blared their horns in utter belligerence, and we just happened to roll into an empty parking spot around the corner. Listening to the sound of the ignition, looking for the battery light, and feeling the rumble of the engine as it died, we put to use our all-too-well honed mechanic skills. We placed our bets, and it appeared our consensus matched with the opinion of the AAA guy who came to tow us away. Fuel pump!
9/1/10
With a 12 hour drive to Tucson ahead of us, the day couldn’t pass more slowly. Just as we came into the city, so we shall leave, with a somewhat last minute, haphazardly arranged Craigslist ride. We can’t leave until about 8pm, so by the time we reach our destination I’m sure our brains will be wiped clean. Goodbye for now, San Francisco. Until we meet again!

Semblance of Grass, Air Thick like Cake

2010-08-26T16:52:00.000-07:00

7/7/10- 7/20/10

Boston, Connecticut, and New York

Semblance of Grass, Air Thick as Cake

Before I begin babbling on about myself, I'd like to mention that Blogger has given me endless trouble with formatting, spacing, etc. that I am just posting this as is; I'd like to think of myself as relatively computer proficient, but I've spent so much time fixing html problems--that shouldn't be occurring--that I really don't care if the fonts are different (however it can be that this would happen when there should be a universal script for the text format...)

So enjoy it the best you can. My apologies to you, and lots of swearing and curses to Blogger.

A new leg of the expedition is underway as we make our way to Boston, sans bus. Not sure what to expect, I wade into the ocean of independent travel, once again leaving behind a certain level of safety and comfort. But, then again, this is my affinity, and I'd trade drama-laden security for uncertainty and peace of mind any day of the week. Between snappish outbursts, constant micromanagement and, otherwise oppressive factors, this trip has been exceedingly draining for me and for Sasha.

The morning was spent breaking down camp. It was ferociously hot out. Despite my best efforts to look alive, I was exhausted by the theatrics of last night...AND SO! We made it to Boston, having found a semi-last-minute ride with a few nice people from the Rondy. We made our descent through unimaginable scenery, once again, to my great delight, surrounded by trees of wonderful height and plenitude. The ride was peaceful, friendly, no complaints--except for one horrible surprise--I'd unwittingly been fostering a leech in my nether-regions. We stopped in the first town we came across to use the restroom, and I discovered it, “fat and sassy,” as my friend Joshua would say, on my blood. This was the 5th one I'd found on myself today after my morning dip. These and the huge, blue, biting flying things that ripped out chunks of flesh as they swarmed around my exposed head while swimming are enough reason to think I'm done swimming in Maine. But I suppose that's alright, because who knows when I'll find myself in Maine again. Our stop in Portland was brief, only dropping off a passenger and then continuing on to Boston. We arrived in the early evening to the place our ride arranged for us to stay on the sly during the drive.

7/8/10

Boston! The Final Frontier, kind of.

The last big city of my interest, Boston is a closing of the loop, so to speak. We walked downtown today, nearly an hour's walk from the house where we stayed. I love these old cities on the East Coast, full of rich architecture.

Eliconia, our unexpected haven for the next couple of days, lies just outside the city in Allston, but is still walking distance to downtown. Well, for some of us. A sprawling 3 story home to an uncertain number of residents and guests, Eliconia also houses an extensive lending library, provides a queer-safe environment, and is home to the bike co-op and Food not Bombs. I found myself easily at home—get this! The floor plan was the same as that of my home in D.C.! Everybody here has been exceedingly generous, sharing with us the dumpster goodies and offering us comfortable sleep amenities. The

invitation was extended for however long we needed a place to stay.

Josh, my new friend and resident of Eliconia, is shown here playing a show in the basement. This photo and some exciting stories about his travels can be found at Josh Chadwick's Adventure Blog. Like mine, it's a collection of writings about adventure, life, art, community, and the like. If you like reading mine, I'm sure you'll enjoy learning about Josh and his super exciting life too!

So back to the story! We woke up early and ventured out to the gardens, afterward touring of the city; Winding up and down each street, looking at old buildings and people-watching made for an excellent afternoon.

We picked up some vegetables to cook a big dinner for all. To our surprise, a ton of people from the Rendezvous were here at Eliconia for a show put on to raise funds for legal support of those arrested at the protest in Maine. Sasha and I had a really good conversation in a nearby park while the show went on in the basement.

7/9/10

Harvard sucks! In no other place have I felt quite so looked down upon. Perhaps I'm no high class woman. But I don't look that shabby either, and besides, looks aren't everything. And neither is money. Poor people, especially the homeless, are quite shunned around here. Would you believe they have contraptions fixed to the garbage cans so that it's impossible to pull anything out of them? They surely don't want garbage-eating ruffians about. Well, fuck Harvard.

Can't I be poor and talk about Dostoevsky over coffee, just as well as anybody else? Yes! I can! Cambridge just put me in a bad mood. It was upon seeing the garbage cans, or maybe when I was practically run off the sidewalk by three "ladies" taking up the whole sidewalk without the courtesy of leaving me room to pass, that I decided Boston's not my thing. Or at least, Harvard is not my thing. Despite my love for people, I have a hard time sometimes with the concrete examples of people. These people make it hard to remember that love for humanity. I'm not one of them, and they're not my people. But the trees and bridges are nice...

7/10/10

The clouds were heavy with rain all morning, hanging the promise of relief in the sky; A patch of blue momentarily threatened the comfort we'd found in our hopes, but the universe pulled through this time. Perhaps it pulled through a bit too much... The rain poured down in a deluge that seemed an attempt to drown the world. We were flooded in the cafe where we were sitting and they had to close the shop. Inundated behind the scenes, they could no longer sell food. For us this meant free bagels by the bagful. The Craigslist ride we found came to pick us up, and the next half hour was spend playing luggage tetris. The six (!!) of us piled into the little sedan, and the next few hours brought about the most terrifying car ride I've ever experienced.

Weaving in and out of traffic at 80 mph amidst the dings and chimes of electronic gadgetry, and in air, as Sasha says, "as thick as cake," we sped to New York City, which, ironically, promised to be a calm refuge after this.

I held onto my darling, at times for dear life, because I don't do very well in cars. As I've mentioned many times before, we are not meant to survive impact at such speeds, and moving in such a fashion is so far from human. Anyway, I'm glad we made it safely.

In an attempt to view Long Island from across the Sound, We made a stop in Connecticut--New London I believe.

And here it was that, for the first time in my life, and despite all the time I've spent on the East Coast...

I touched the Atlantic Ocean.

Here I am with my new road trip friends, enjoying the moss and the rocks.

The waves gently rolled over the rocky shore, sweeping back stones to create for me a new

sound. Another first in a lifetime experience to check off the list.

We arrived in Brooklyn after 10, ready for bed, but somehow I managed to stay up until 1. We, and by we I mean Sasha, somehow left Dostoevsky, meaning my Dostoevsky book, behind. I was (am) pretty sore about this; but that's another rant and tangent...

7/11/10

Here I am in the Cake Shop, sitting at the same table where I wrote about New York as a home, already a year ago. The feeling hasn't faded. Minus the brief and chaotic stay in Portland, I've been traveling for one whole year.For one whole year I've been mostly moneyless, scavenging or volunteering my work for food. I've long since shed the skins of various attachments. I can go anywhere. I can do anything. I'm at home and free in New York City!

Today I contemplate all the places I've been. Or, rather, I am cataloging the places I haven't been yet, and the cogs in my head turn toward the idea of "missing states" tour. With 40 states under my belt in the past year alone, the remainder seem an easy endeavor.

As I'm daydreaming away, Sasha's phone rings, interrupting my reverie. It's my great friend, Mike, and he's on his way to scoop us up! Long Island, another first for me.

The beach, though super crowded as it was a Saturday, was a nice and cool day vacation spot. We didn't hang out for too long, partly because it was so crowded, and for the fear of getting caught with our dog and getting a ticket.

I finally got to meet Marty, Mike's dog, who he has been raving about since I met him last year. It's wonderful to see friends while traveling. A familiar face is always a comfort.

7/12/10

I love Belgian Beer. As we speak, I am slowly, deliberately enjoying a Corsendonk with Sasha.

We stopped into this little hidden beer garden near Washington Square and couldn't resist the temptation to try a new beer;I'd initially stopped only to take some photos of the little alcove, but we're on vacation, and what's better with vacation than beer?

This was just one part of our perfect day

The blazing sun woke us up early since we slept on a roof. We spent the whole day walking around, stopping in parks and looking in garbage cans. It's hard to stay just what made today so perfect, unremarkable as its events were. Maybe the joy I feel comes with knowing that there's somebody who loves and appreciates me as I am, and whose life corresponds with mine in all the right places. To be in love is truly amazing. But to be free and in love...now that's something special.

7/13/10

Again, we found ourselves in a welcome downpour as the skies opened in fury.

Union Square didn't provide adequate shelter, especially not for our confused and grumpy desert dog, so we ducked under some scaffolding across the busy avenue. Taxis full of people stormed by, leaving in the wake the complaining business people not fit for the discomfort of raindrops. A homeless man offered up two french fries for Bootlyg, because he refused to eat the hamburger also offered to him. From behind a gray curtain of rain appeared Kazembe, Sasha's friend from his days at the Brecht Forum.

We went to have burritos and then to find our other friend who was canvassing for Greenpeace in Union Square. We stayed at his place last night.

We ducked into the Yippie Cafe for a 75 cent coffee and then to the Bowery Poetry Club to listen to some NYU student jazz bands. Below, art and music.

I used to love hanging out near NYU, sometimes being invited to band practices or exchanging tastes of food with total strangers at Red Bamboo. This place is great, but they don't have anything vegan. This always surprises me, as a bustling diveres and moneyed city like New York should have something for everyone, But as it is, I am cupcake-less.

As the end of the day drew near, we headed to Washington Heights to stay with Sasha's brother. I'm told he lives near a fabulous park, and I'm looking forward to spending a whole day, or a good portion of a day anyway, wandering around.

7/14/10

Fort Tryon trumps Central Park any day!

I can't fathom that I'm in the city as I meander through mossy paths, under a canopy of trees breathing just for me. Fat squirrels and hedgehogs waddle through the grass and gardens, hoping for a handout.

Cardinals pose for my camera in great pines, singing their little biew biew noises. The green moisture of the air enters my lungs, and I feel happy.

Through a window in the maples, the city carries on. But that's neither here nor now. We spent most of the day in the park indulging in a slow pace one couldn't dare to enjoy on the hurried, static sidewalks. Fallen mulberries inundated the park benches, beckoning us to do some urban harvest. We made some jam to put on our dumpstered bagels, and we watched the Neverending Story. As usual, the book was much better.

Below, some more photos of Fort Tryon Park in all its glory.

Some happy little bee friends, enjoying one another's company while munching away. Little cuties!

There are people who will tell you that the homeless are dirty, criminal people, and that eating garbage is unsafe. The fact of the matter is, however, that most homeless people are just like you and me. Some people find themselves in hard times when they've been living paycheck to paycheck, and then an unexpected expense comes up, like a hospital visit. A lot of single mothers out there, too. And not to mention, unemployment is at a pretty staggering rate. The homeless are, generally speaking, not criminal. They are a demographic as diverse as any other; Drugs and alcohol, convenient scapegoats as they are, render us desensitized to the fact that the homeless are people too, and on top of this, are not often the cause of homelessness to begin with.

And as for eating garbage, I'll tell you myself: there's nothing better!

Do you know just how much good, clean, safe, often unopened food goes to waste in our great, grand country of equality and opportunity? According to an article by Beatrice Hunter:

Each year, Americans discard more than 96 billion pounds of good food. If 5% was recovered, it could provide the equivalent of a day's food for four million hungry people; 10%, eight million; and 25%, 20 million.

Read the rest of the article here.

We rifle the streets daily, eyes open and hearts in anticipation of yummy foods that more fortunate people have seen fit to throw away. What do we want today? Pizza with the cheese peeled off? Falafel sandwiches and Belgian fries? All of the above? Today is our day!

7/15/10

I think I found my favorite thing in the world to do--a best of both worlds, you could say. We dumpstered a whole, huge, heaping mound of flowers from Whole Foods and passed them around the city to everybody we saw! I noticed that the people who were the most grateful were those who seemed most displaced by society. One lady in particular comes to mind; She was a middle aged homeless lady. She was missing a couple of teeth, but she seemed pretty happy, hanging out with some other homeless folks in the park. I walked up to her with a smile on my face and so much love in my heart. She was confused and unsure that this rose was really for her, and even more confused that I didn't want money for it or anything. She burst into smile, and nearly tears, and she gave me the most heartfelt and sincere hug I've ever had from a stranger. This happiness, the gratitude, this little gesture most people wouldn't be grateful for in the least. Some people were appalled at our audacity in even talking to them; but for the most part, people accepted these gifts with grace. True, a flower in itself isn't that big of a gift, but to take a minute to make a connection with another person in a world where politeness is at most the minimal acknowledgement of a nod, it's amazing how powerful this could be. If I could just walk around all day every day doing this, I think my life's purpose would be fulfilled. What could be better than making people happy?

7/16/10

The day passes so slowly when you miss somebody. Sasha is in DC at the Animal Rights Conference. I decided at the last minute not to go, and I've never known a longer day. It was too hot to go anywhere, really, so I just wasted away at Surreal Estate, whose roof we've been sleeping on.

The day drags into night, too slowly, as did pass the rest of it. The breeze makes life bearable for a moment, but only nominally.

7/17/10

It's hot as all hell again today.

I walked over the Williamsburg Bridge into the city, as I have been doing for the past few days.

I was about ready to hibernate once I got across in the stifling heat, so I set out in search of a spot to park it. I found a perfect coffee shop near Washington Square Park. It's nice and cool, there's plenty of window seating, they accept debit cards, the let Bootlyg hang out, they have clean restrooms and cold water, AND they are playing the top 100 classic rock albums. The Beatles, Neil Young, The Clash...Oh life is good. Bootlyg is basking in the sun, and life is good for him too.

Lunch was fairly easy. First I found a giant pretzel in the garbage, but it was pretty salty so I ditched it in favor of some rice and sweet and sour sauce I found in the next garbage. I also found some watermelon and a smoothie. Hooray! Bootlyg and I found a tiny alleyway community garden and reveled in the shade. While sitting here, I wrote a letter to Sasha, though I never did end up giving it to him. I'd completely forgotten about it until now. Here's what I said:

"Dear Sasha,

Sitting in a park by myself, I imagine the splendor of your embrace as the sounds of the city carry on. I remember, ever vividly, the day we first kissed--the tenderness of your gaze, the softness of your lips. I take comfort in knowing these singularly stellar kisses await me upon your return. The days pass, because you are away, with painful slowness. You are the movement, the sound that fills my life with happiness. You are the beauty and life in it all--you are everything. All the world around me is still when I'm caught up in your eyes. Your love is proof to me that all the unfathomable can be real, that all I could want, forever, is possible. I love you more every day that we are together, with all my strength and being. There is no combination of words for the feelings inside me."

I was elated to find an open hydrant, running through it while Bootlyg watched disgustedly from the sidewalk.

When it cooled down a bit I walked around the city some more, spending a little extra time in Chinatown. One of my favorite parts of town, Chinatown is the epitome of bustling, crowded New York City. Little Chinese ladies scream from their shops, urging you to buy a cheap bus ticket to Boston or Philadelphia, pulling at your sleeves if competition is particularly fierce today. So many colors and smells--OH the smells.

I could argue that NYC Chinatown is the worst smelling place on the earth, but I haven't been everywhere, and this is probably mostly because I'm a vegetarian. Still, I love the markets for all the exotic fruits and vegetables, gleaming in their brightly colored skins.

Wonderful imported trinkets and local artisan crafts give the streets a unique and exciting character. There's so much to see here, it's almost a sensory overload.

I had dinner with my friends Dave and Hannah. They made some vegan chickpea burgers from scratch. They were amazing--I had 2 even though I was bursting at the seams after the first one.

They invited me to stay the night. Despite the new place, I was filled with nostalgia for old times spent in New York.

Thanks, guys!

7/19/10

Yay! Sasha and I had the day together today. Nothing terribly exciting happened, though we did pass the scene of a murder on our way to Donnie's house. In fact, it was only a couple of houses away from his own, and as we got closer I could make out more and more a huge pool of blood, in the middle of which were some broken glasses. As it turned out, it was a bicycle-by shooting, and it had happened only very shortly before we arrived. When Donnie got home later, he relayed to us the story of his being mugged by a guy with a big knife on his way home. What a night! I'm not any more wary of walking around Brooklyn at night than I was before, but between this and all the bedbug infestations, I'm glad I don't live here anyway.

7/22/10
More than ready to leave New York, we boarded a plane on its way across the country. Sasha's parents bought us tickets, relating to our frustration at being unable to find a ride out of the city. We arrived in Portland, OR. at 7:30 Pacific time, so 10:30 for my own exhausted, vomit drained body. Our week in New York granted us everything the city promises its visitors. After so many days, the stifling air of it becomes more apparent. Pushing through ridiculous swarms of people to the semblance of grass, I realized city life is less appealing the more permanent you let yourself think it is. My week of rooftop sleeping and garbage eating is over, and I'll soon arrive for a home-coming in one of the few places I would actually say I lived.
I promise I will catch up with all the rest of the blog soon!
Love, Shay

ALL of the photos are now here

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.

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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.
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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:

https://cms.paypal.com/us/cgi-bin/?cmd=_render-content&content_ID=marketing_us/send_money

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