Road Trip v.2 (Part 10): Taos and Santa Fe

Cartoon house

Gorge

The road from Durango to Taos was stupid, looping me down into New Mexico, back up to Colorado, and back down into New Mexico. I get it; mountains are big. Still, I was annoyed. At least I passed several snow-capped mountains and lovely valley villages. The other bonus of my route was the really bizarre houses built into the New Mexico countryside. Literally, built into the countryside. They were brightly colored adobe style houses that looked like they were half-buried in the ground. The architectural style was what I would describe as Fisher-Price Chic. It looked like living in a cartoon. So basically, the type of house I would like. On the way into Taos, I made a stop at the Rio Grand Gorge. A narrow bridge crosses the Rio Grande at a particularly deep point. People are allowed to walk onto the bridge to view the Gorge from above, as long as you can handle the swaying of the distressingly old bridge every time a car passes

I arrived in Taos and headed straight for the Taos Pueblo. Many of the adobe buildings in the Pueblo were built over a thousand years ago. The main structures were built between 1000 and 1450 A.D. The most amazing fact is that it has been continuously inhabited since that time. Most of the rooms and buildings house shops and galleries of Native American artisans. Some actually live in a few buildings, despite the lack of modern utilities. I was told that the majority of the people live on nearby land or on the reservation, so year-round occupancy in the original Pueblo buildings is likely relatively low. Still, from the posted signs and general goings-on that day, it seemed that the Pueblo plays a central role in ceremonies, rituals, and general governance.

I stopped at a gallery where an elderly lady was painting her clay works. We had a good conversation about the Midwest, namely the Kansas City Chiefs football team. Lawrence, Kansas, is home to both the University of Kansas and Haskell Indian Nations University. After talking to several different Native American individuals in both Taos and Santa Fe, I discovered that a surprising number of people in the Southwest had a connection to Haskell either by attending it or knowing a loved one who did. Turns out this woman's husband was once a track star at Haskell and instilled in her a love of all things Kansas and Kansas City, including Jayhawk basketball. Obviously, I had to buy something from her.

I also talked to a young woman who told me a bit about the history and demographics of the Pueblo while making me a deliciously fresh Indian Flatbread in a makeshift living room. She had actually lived in Lawrence and attended Haskell. As for the flatbread, it was delicious, but I owe her $2. After I ate, we discovered that nobody nearby could make change for me to cover all $5 for the treat. I felt rather guilty for partaking in her delicious homemade good.

Taos Plaza

In Taos, I visited a few other sites, including the main Plaza and an awesome toy store where I looked at buttons for twenty minutes. I'm easily entertained. I also visited the Kit Carson house, which was mildly informative. Kit Carson was a frontiersman credited as a major player in westward expansion and settling the Southwest. His house was well-preserved, but three rooms and a twenty minute History Channel video was not worth the entrance fee. I only went because I was running out of activities during my day in Taos. All in all, Taos was kind of a dump. The landscape was beautiful and I enjoyed visiting the Pueblo, but I was expecting a bit more. Perhaps I would appreciate Taos more if I cared about its proximity to awesome winter sports.

The sunset made up for anything that was lacking.

I left for Santa Fe just as it was getting darker, dreading the drive down a small highway in the dark. I stopped along the road to take a picture of the pink and blue disc-like clouds just as the sun was setting in the distance--a color in the sky that we had noticed in Arizona, and which Kim had aptly described as a pretty prom dress. I kept going and almost drove off the road when I saw the show the sun was putting on just before its bedtime. I pulled off again to take-in what looked like a horizon set on fire. I've seen a lot of great sunsets, but I don't think I've seen one so confoundingly breathtaking.

Artisans selling outside
Palace of the Governors

Santa Fe Plaza

When I got to Santa Fe, I was a hungry bear. I looked up a few food spots and embarked on an epic food fail, beating that of our frenetic, hungry afternoon in San Francisco. The first place I stopped on the Santa Fe Plaza did not serve dinner on Sundays. The second place was a few minutes outside of the heart of town, but it was touted as a cheap greasy spoon spot that was really popular with the locals. I found it pretty easily. Closed! I remembered seeing a restaurant open on one of the corners in the Plaza and decided to settle on that. I inadvertently walked into one of the spots I had seen online and vetoed because of its price-tag. I didn't realize it until I received the menu. I considered walking out, but was too hungry. Cafe Pasqual had received great reviews and purportedly had delicious food. I was broke, however, and not in the mood for a fine dining experience. I was awkwardly sat at their public table in between three sets of couples of varying ages on romantic getaways. I should have brought a book to read. Instead, I tried not to stare at any one person. The menu came out and the cheapest item I could order were veggie enchiladas for $30. Bah. Ordered. Eventually a few couples left and a few other parties of single diners arrived. They had books to read and fat pocketbooks to order whatever they wanted. Arrgh grumble grumble. The enchiladas were actually pretty good. Didn't blow my mind, but innovative, fresh ingredients pleased me. I'm a spice weakling, and the green sauce was a bit spicier than I expected. I was the lonely, bored diner, drinking water and ordering the cheapest item, while also dripping tears from my eyes and snot from my nose every time I took a bite. The guy next to me actually leaned over to ask if my dish was really that spicy while I was barbarically wiping my nose on the linen napkin. Not my night. I was tempted to order a dessert because they actually looked really good. Then I remembered what I paid for dinner and left.

The next day was a big one. By the end, I had mastered Santa Fe's confusing roads. First, I visited the Plaza, which was much prettier than the Taos Plaza. I stopped at the Palace of the Governors, which is the oldest functioning government building in America (or so the lady at the Christmas ornament store told me). It was closed on Mondays, so I couldn't go inside. I did stop to view what the Native American jewelry-makers were selling on the sidewalk in front.

San Miguel Mission

Somewhat Mysterious stairs

Wood window bars: Oldest House in USA
must have been in a rough neighborhood
where hoodlums had no access to saws...or their foot.

Santa Fe is heavy on historical churches. First, I visited the St. Francis Cathedral, which I had also seen aglow in its evening lights after dinner the night before. Then, I checked out the San Miguel Mission, a church built in the 1600s and known as the oldest church structure in America. Some of the relics inside the Mission dated back to the 1300s. On the way to the Mission, I walked by what New Mexico claims is the "Oldest House in the USA," also built in the 1600s. Because I like odd things, my favorite church stop was the Loretto Chapel. Inside the Chapel, there is a staircase with allegedly miraculous origins. When the church was originally built, it was lacking a staircase to the choir loft. The Sisters of Loretto, who were apparently uncomfortable with ladders, prayed for a staircase to be built. Then boom, out of nowhere, some vagrant shows up and offers to do it. He leaves before anyone can talk to him, thank him, or pay him. The true wonder of the staircase is in its design. It's a spiral staircase without any central or lateral supports. (The handrails and an additional support were added later.) No screws or nails were used in its construction, though wooden dowels hold it together. Architectural-types eventually examined the stairs. The structural technique was uncovered, and not quite the miracle it appears to be--though the private owners of the church who charge you $3 to enter might disagree. Still, the design and craftsmanship is worth seeing.

Davis Mather Folk Art Gallery

Canyon Road sculptures

Santa Fe is the one stop on the road trip where I was really lamenting being broke. I could have blown a fat stack on all the amazing art and jewelry galleries. I wandered through several galleries on Canyon Road, a street lined with countless art, craft, and jewelry shops. I pretended to have money (which is hard to do when you're wearing a hoodie) and collected a lot of business cards ... just in case...someday...next time? I visited the Davis Mather Folk Art Gallery, where I explored colorful Oaxacan and South American folk art for almost an hour. The Georgia O'Keeffe museum was last on my list. They are supposed to have the largest collection of her works in the country, but they apparently don't like to display much. It was a small museum and I went through it in about fifteen minutes. Though it was disappointing, I'm glad it led me past two of my favorite galleries: the Andrew Smith Gallery of photography and the Chuck Jones gallery. The photography gallery was a two-story house full of amazing original prints from big names like Annie Liebowitz and Ansel Adams. The average price tag on the pictures was in the tens of thousands. Chuck Jones was one of the original Warner Brothers animators. In that gallery there were dozens of cartoon screen prints from Jones as well as other famous animators, including Dr. Seuss.

Chocolate Elixir

Throughout the day, I went on the Santa Fe "chocolate trail." Santa Fe chocolate artisans are plentiful and skilled. I went to the four major chocolate makers and sampled everything from truffles, to almond bark, to caramels, to chocolate elixirs, to spicy chocolate ice cream. My lunch. After my long day and sugar-induced queasiness, I ended my evening at El Parasol, the popular hole-in-the-wall where I tried to eat the night before. Everything in New Mexico has green chile. Green chile stew and green chile burgers seemed to be the most ubiquitous. I ordered one of the specialties, the green chile burger. While waiting for my order and after reading articles on the wall, I went back and ordered a chicken taco as well. My Santa Fe trip ended beautifully back in my hotel room. Green chile burger: destruction. Chicken taco: dessert. Laying in bed watching football: done. Belly rub: in progress. I felt like a fat dude.

Road Trip v.2 (Part 9): Four Corners and Durango

There were tons of these boarded-up
buildings with random artwork on them.

Mars?

After I left Phoenix, I backtracked towards Flagstaff and took small state and US highways through Northeast Arizona. I felt like I was driving on another planet. At first, the flat, dry landscape turned shades of light red. The flatness gave way in the distance to steep canyons and ravines that initially seemed like a mirage. Suddenly I was in a rocky, red wonderland. I couldn't stop recklessly taking terribly framed pictures out of my car window while driving. At certain points, I had to stop and take in the landscape properly. There were smatterings of dilapidated souvenir stands and hawkers' gimmicks. I stopped once and was mildly hassled by hawkers trying to show me dinosaur tracks for an unadvertised sum of money. The highway wasn't a well-traveled one, but it was filled with all sorts of graffiti art mural-ed crumbling buildings, lonely souvenir stands, and other oddities. Monument Valley, the only major tourist attraction within a couple hundred miles, was halfway down the road. I didn't explore the rock formation "monuments," but from the highway you could see the impressive rocky skyline. I'm now in love with the Southwest's landscape.

I reached Four Corners in the afternoon. The Four Corners monument is maintained by the Navajo nation and charges a small entrance fee to see and stand where the borders of Utah, New Mexico, Arizona, and Colorado supposedly meet. I've read that modern GPS tools have indicated that the monument is anywhere from 2,000 feet to 2.5 miles away from the true latitudinal and longitudinal borders where it should have been placed. The original 1868 survey, while technically a bit inaccurate because of the surveying tools available at the time, is legally recognized as the measurement for the states' lawful boundaries and monument's placement. Therefore, I can confidently say the law recognizes that the picture to the right is legit. Thus, the law also justifies the money I spent on Four Corners souvenirs from the booths set up by Navajo artisans at the monument.

Downtown Durango

Leaving the Four Corners, I entered Colorado en route to Durango. In Durango, I was meeting yet another great friend, Chris. I worked with Chris this summer in Connecticut at Cato Corner. Chris had been making cheese at Cato Corner for a couple years when I arrived. Shortly after I left Connecticut for Washington, Chris also left to test the waters in Colorado. When I got to his house, I discovered that our friends at Cato Corner had sent him some cheese a few days before. We had a nostalgic cheesy dinner of Cato Corner cheese. The previous six months had come full circle. Afterwards, we hit up a few bars on Durango's obnoxiously cute downtown strip. As I drove toward Durango, I went through a lot of dingy, remote towns. There wasn't much to see in any town other than Dairy Queens, one of which sated my afternoon snack craving. Durango, however, was a beautiful small town tucked between a few mountains that smacked of a resort village for ski- and outdoorsy-types. Coffee shops, local stores, historic buildings, and small bars lined downtown. We first went to an old-timey themed bar inside a historic hotel. The waitresses dressed in turn of the 19th century costumes, which seemed mildly humiliating. The bar was a great, laid-back place to hang out. The second stop offered a taste of the potentially annoying side of living in Durango -- lots and lots of drunk and obnoxious, fresh-out-of-college girls and beefcakes....Ok, so I guess that's only annoying if you're not into that sort of thing. I had a great time hanging out in Durango. Also, Chris has the cutest puppy in the world, so that was a plus. The next day, I returned to yet another lonely winding highway en route to Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico.

It must be lonely being a hawker in the desert

Monument Valley in the distance

Cutest puppy in the world

Road Trip v.2 (Part 8): Grand Canyon, Flagstaff, Sedona, and Phoenix

Condor. Chillin'.

Would you believe we went to all four of the places in the title in a matter of two days? Well, you should, because we did. After leaving Vegas, we drove straight to the Grand Canyon. It would be my second trip to the natural wonder, but Kim's first. This was the second time we lucked out at a national park and were exempt from paying the entrance fee that day (the first being Crater Lake). Paying for my second trip to the Canyon would have been worth it anyway because of what we saw that day. First, we drove straight to one of the many South Rim overlooks right off the main road. At one of the overlooks, I saw a curious looking bird perched on the cliff in front of us. "Hey Kim, check out that buzzard....Hey, why does that buzzard have a numbered tag on it?" As we stand there taking pictures of what I assumed was a buzzard or vulture, we overheard the man next to us. "This is probably the only time in our lives any of us will come this close to a condor. I don't understand how everyone can stand here talking so loudly." We immediately felt like idiots, but got over that fast because we were standing in front of a condor! He just sat there chillling, while me, Kim, and the disgusted dude stood there taking pictures. Of course the numbered tag was probably a tracking number to aid in condor preservation. Nobody else really knew what they were looking at either. In fact, another girl came up behind me, talking to her friend, and we overheard part of her conversation, "...yeah, maybe it's like some sort of buzzard or something...." (A few hours after I originally posted this, a friend informed me that a condor is a type of buzzard--as is a vulture. I guess I wasn't completely off-base. Still, all our loud-talking could have scared off the rare bird. Whatever, he seemed to be cool with it.)

Next, we drove to the Desert View overlook and took in the views from the watchtower. Just before sunset, we started driving toward Flagstaff. Dinner for the evening was at Beaver Street Brewery near Flagstaff's quaint downtown area and off of historic Route 66. I practically licked the fondue pot we ordered clean and, as usual, proceeded to demand ice cream. Kim tried to look up a few places on her iPhone, but we quickly discovered that ice cream wasn't a priority for Flagstaff. I was flabbergasted. Instead we bought some cake at a nice cafe/bar and headed to our hotel room, which was, thankfully, much better than what we had left in Vegas.

The next day we drove around Flagstaff to see some historic Route 66 spots. After nearly being assaulted by drunk vagrants in the train station/visitor center parking lot; and after discovering that Kim would have to fly home prematurely the next morning from Phoenix for a family emergency; we decided to brighten our day with a new adventure. We quickly called a horseback riding ranch in Sedona and scheduled a trail ride for the late morning. I sped the 45 minutes to Sedona to make our 11am appointment. Tucked down a gravel road outside of Sedona, we found M Diamond Ranch. After we paid, our trail guide brought out our two horses. Mine was Tick, a cute black horse with a white strip on his head. We both became immediately attached to our horses. Neither Kim nor I had ridden a horse before. After getting a quick tutorial, we took off on a slow saunter down the trail. Guiding the horses was not at all confusing or scary like I thought it would be. There were a few rocky spots where I thought either the horse would slip or I was going to fall off. The hardest part for both of us was trying not to laugh when the horses farted. After the ride, we both got in the car. There was a moment of quiet reflection. Then, I started to say, "it took everything in me not to giggle every time a horse let one loose," which Kim immediately seconded "I know! Me too!"  We're pretty much always on the same page when it comes to being fatties and laughing about bodily functions. Neither one of us wanted to start giggling at the time, for fear of being even more apparent as the stupid city girls who didn't understand the ranch life.

Hills of Sedona

We both agreed that the trail ride was the most soothing and peaceful activity we had done, even more so than the uncomfortably romantic spa day (which was too awkward to be very peaceful). Afterwards, we both wanted our own horses. Until then, I didn't understand the appeal of riding horses, which to me just seemed like a lazy way to go for a walk. Now, I totally get it.

After the ride, we drove through the windy road to Sedona, through some amazing rocky hills. Sedona, though a little touristy, was so much more beautiful than we had expected. We stopped somewhere for ice cream and to make our lunch sandwiches. It was the last of our road trip sandwiches. The cheese from Oregon was still good! The sausage, however, was no longer edible. We reluctantly threw it away but were a little distraught about it. That sausage was with us through the whole trip since Cave Junction. It had been through the same adventures we had. Throwing it out, as silly as it sounds, made us feel like we were acknowledging the end of our trip together.

Exhibit at Musical Instrument Museum

We could have played here all day.

Phoenix was our next stop. The first place we went was the Musical Instrument Museum. I found the museum on the internet and was surprised by all the rave reviews. I didn't know what to expect, but it was easily one of the five best museums I've ever visited. The museum had exhibits, organized by global region, showcasing musical instruments and sounds from hundreds of countries and genres. The North American room had several exhibits on the evolution of familiar American genres, including jazz, big band, zydeco, and Appalachian. Most of the exhibits were accompanied by film clips linked to an audio guide that helped you get a sense of the different musical traditions and influences. The guide required no work. It was remote sensored to know which exhibit you were standing near. The audio for the given film clip switched accordingly. For music buffs, it's a wonderland of amazing sounds, relics, and information. Even though I could never remember every instrument or musical tradition, I could have watched those film and audio clips all day. At the end of the exhibits, we went crazy in the discovery room. Dozens of musical instruments were available for visitors' tactile enjoyment. Nobody else was in the room when we were there, so it was our very own playground. I don't know when I'll ever be able to pound on a gong again.

For dinner we had big plans. The main reason we drove out of our way to Phoenix was for food. After hearing about Pizzeria Bianco, purportedly one of the best pizzas in the country, we wanted to make the stop. We were meeting two of my friends, Krista and Troy, a couple who I had met at the ACS conference in August. They are deep in the process of opening a cheese shop in Phoenix. It should be awesome and opening in the the Spring. If you're in Phoenix, check out the Wedge and Bottle!

The problem with the pizza place: it's incredibly small, does not take reservations for small parties, is hugely popular, and thus, has ridiculous wait times. Usually a two- to three-hour wait should be expected. We happened to pick the unfortunate night with a wait time of almost four hours. Our cranky levels were high. On top of it, the night already had the sad and sour note of being the last for Kim's portion of the trip. Fortunately, the bar area was a lovely place to wait. Plus, I had a great time catching up with Krista and Troy. We finally got seats a little over three hours later at the bar. We ordered three pizzas: a white pizza with pistachios and onions, an arugula and ricotta white pizza, and a red pizza with salami. All of the pizzas were great, and likely would have been more delicious if we weren't so tired of waiting. The waiters and hostess, however, were really nice and apologetic about the wait. Plus, the food came out really fast.

Here's my critique: I didn't achieve the pizza nirvana I had the first time I ate New Haven pizza, which I still think is my favorite pizza on the planet. Of course, it may be because now the bar has been set so high. That said, overall, the Bianco pizza was outstanding. The ingredients were fresh, really high quality, and a step up from even a gourmet pizza joint. The pizzas came in one size and were smaller than one of your standard brick-oven New Haven or New York style pies. Thus, while the crust was amazing, I wondered if it was universally amazing like the New Haven pizzas on all sizes. I thought perhaps the crust was tailored to their limited offerings and would crumble like a soggy mess on a larger pie. The white sauce made the white pizzas the best white pizzas I'd ever had. Buuut, the red sauce was downright disappointing, bordering on gross. The only thing that saved the red pizza was the crust and the amazing salami.  If I could put Bianco's ingredients on the New Haven crust and red sauce (or just the New Haven crust for a white pizza), then it would be the best pizza on earth.

"Hole in the Rock" in Papago Park

Dinner ended close to 9:30, and our cranky and sad factor increased as we went to get Kim's plane ticket and had a bit of a mix-up at the hotel. We slept off our long, tiring, adventure-filled day, and woke up early to take Kim to the airport. Before our trip together was over, we had time for one more activity. On the way to the airport, we stopped at Hole in the Rock, a crazy rock formation where you can climb up into a hole and see views of Phoenix and the mountains in the distance.

Eventually, we had to say our goodbyes, and suddenly I had almost 1,500 miles of road tripping to do on my own. It was lonely without someone to share in the fun and sad not having good company in the car. Road tripping alone is a new kind of adventure. Being forced to discover activities, get lost and find your way, and make conversation with strangers, all on your own, builds a different kind of story. Of course, it can also be kind of intimidating and scary. Kim demanded I text her every night to ensure I hadn't been kidnapped or assaulted.

On my drive north from Phoenix to my next stop in Durango, Colorado, I was disappointed Kim wasn't there. I knew she'd go nuts over the mind-bogglingly odd Mars-like landscape through Northeast Arizona. More on that next.

Picture of a painting we thought was curious and funny, taken in Portland on our first full day. On Kim's last day of the trip, it suddenly seems omnisciently appropriate...but still curious and funny.

Road Trip v.2 (Part 7): San Diego & Vegas

I realize the two cities in the title of this post make no sense being lumped together. That's how we roll --making zig zags through the country. After we left LA, we went back to Kim's house in Laguna Niguel to pick up my car. From Laguna Niguel, San Diego was a mere one hour away. Yes, it was an extra two hours away from Vegas but, hey, it was my first time in California...might as well go from top to tip. We would only have 5 or 6 hours in San Diego, so we would have to strategize pretty effectively. We left LA early to beat traffic, which we somehow managed to do. During the whole stay in LA, we were pretty lucky with traffic. I never witnessed the snarling ungodly freeway parking lots I've heard so much about. From Laguna we stopped in Dana Point. There, we met up with Kim's boyfriend who was kind enough to treat us to some great French Toast at this tiny French cafe where everyone had French accents, which of course means it was legit.

We arrived in San Diego, still without a completely clear plan of what we were going to do there for the afternoon. I really wanted to hit up the zoo. Both Kim and I went to high school in Omaha, which proudly touts its Henry Doorly Zoo as the best zoo after San Diego. Objectively, the Omaha zoo is pretty awesome. It has, in fact, made several "best zoos in the nation" lists, often coming second to San Diego. I wanted to see what all the ruckus was with San Diego's zoo and properly compare my hometown zoo. The problem was time. The San Diego zoo is huge and we had to commit it as our only big activity in the city. We both really love animals, so we were cool with that. The only other spot I really wish I could have visited was the Midway Museum, a Navy museum on a giant aircraft carrier on the harbor. Oh well, "next time."

The polar bears were my highlight

To fully maximize our short time there, we took the 35-minute bus tour that drives you past 70% of the zoo and the animals. The bus made short stops at each animal pen, especially if the animals were doing something hilarious or cute. Then, we used the map to backtrack and pick a few things we didn't see and a few animals we wanted to see closer. Top of my list was the arctic area to see the polar bears and puffins. Top of Kim's list were the meerkats. We checked out a few other awesome animals like the pandas, koalas, sea otters, and kangaroos.  One of my two complaints with the San Diego zoo is the layout. It is incredibly confusing and poorly marked, which is really only annoying if you're on a tight schedule and need to get places quickly. My other complaint (and this is a seriously negative): There were no puffins or penguins!!!! What the hell? My favorite part of the Omaha zoo is the giant aquarium area where you can watch dozens of arctic birds waddle, flap, and swim about. I asked three different workers if the zoo kept any penguins or puffins, just in case I had missed them. The answer was always no. The arctic habitat was a big fat joke at the San Diego zoo. All they had were the polar bears and some other lame non-waddling birds. Okay, I will admit, the polar bears were crazy awesome. They were going after a giant pumpkin (which I had no idea they eat), and the viewing area was right up on them in the water.  And, okay, yes, I'm the only one who would freak out about the legitimacy of their arctic birds and habitat.... Seriously though, no puffins?!

Harbor with Midway Museum
in the distance

We took the sky line gondola down to the entrance, which gave us great views of Balboa park, the city skyline, and the zoo. I really like the San Diego zoo. It was clean, the animals seemed happy, and there was a lot of variety to see.  I would totally take them up on a sign I saw that advertised a camping event where you could spend the night in the zoo. I can't begin to imagine how incredible it would be to tramp around a zoo at night. Yet, I also realized that Omaha's zoo is pretty great as well. San Diego had nothing on Omaha's rainforest and aquarium habitats.

Overwhelmed by draught choices?
Don't worry, the wheel o' beer at
Regal Beagle will pick for you. 

After the zoo, we drove by the harbor, took some pictures of boats, and drove through the trendy Gaslamp Quarter. Then, we went to our only really planned stop in San Diego: dinner. It's so like us to have food as our only planned activity. The chosen spot was Regal Beagle, a neighborhood bar that specialized in various sausages and brats, and a killer draught beer list to pair with your meat. I had the smoked beer sausage, topped with cheese, and paired with a Chipotle Ale. It was a scrumptiously smokey meal. Kim got the onion sausage, topped with sauerkraut, and "paired" with ...*cough*... cider. Despite residual sugar striking again, I had to be impressed that she totally owned her order. When the waitress asked what Kim wanted to drink, she shamelessly asked for something "like Woodchuck." I laughed heartily. The sausages were incredible...a different kind of incredible from the bacon-wrapped creations we had two nights before in a gas station parking lot.

From dinner, we hit the road for Vegas. It was a long, dangerously sleepy drive. I was kind of tired and cranky by the time we got there. The crankiness was furthered by the depressingly sad side of the Vegas experience our hotel had to offer us. We were staying in the Imperial Palace. Great location, but both Kim and I had a bad feeling as soon as we parked. It wasn't even the room that was so awful; it was actually better than I expected after my first impression of the lobby/casino. I've stayed in mediocre hotel rooms before without a problem. Here, it was a whole awful package: the depressingly dank casino, the smell of sulphur and smoke everywhere, the stains on the carpet that we could only assume were old vomit to remind new guests of past mistakes, the godawful elevators, the trashy attached club....the realization that we didn't just come here to play a game of cheap blackjack. We were sleeping here.

Fat City, you say? We live there.

To know me is to know a person who gravitates towards places, cities, or activities that involve a layer of grimeyness-- grimeyness, for instance, that might qualify something as a dive or "hole."  There are different kinds of grime I like; they all give a place character. You have your grime that imparts historical nostalgia or social and economic lessons; you get that in dying cities like Detroit or Cleveland. Then you have your grime that resonates with lived-in authenticity; that's the grime I love, for example, when walking through the row-houses of Baltimore. You have the grime that collects from decades of experience in certain homey, high-quality mom and pop shops; I'm thinking Greek Deli in DC or Guy and Mae's in Williamsburg, Kansas. There is even the standard filthy grime you put up with for short periods of time for a cheap drink and friendly faces in your favorite dive bar.

And then you have your Vegas grime, which is the kind of grime that makes you a little sad to be alive.

Concentrated doses of Vegas grime has no character. It is just a reminder of everything that's still wrong with people and the world. It's the kind of grime that stinks of desperation, laziness, hedonism, self-loathing, and egg farts. God, everything smelled like egg farts. Each time I saw someone checking-in with children, I questioned their fitness as parents for bringing their toddler to those accommodations.

This was a different Vegas experience for me. Usually in past trips, I've stayed somewhere moderate and gambled somewhere cheaper. I always left with a neutral and widely-held attitude towards the city: good food, great times, but only palatable for a few days. This trip was a new feeling.

On the first night we attempted to hit up downtown Vegas. It was so late that we had missed the lighting ceremony. Beyond the lights, downtown Vegas isn't anything special. In fact, when we went, it was empty and depressing. It was so depressing, in fact, that we actually preferred to go back to our room and watch cartoons with ice cream and beer.  The grimey Vegas experience is great for certain activities, but soul-suckingly depressing if you're completely immersed in its pure form. We weren't asking for luxury. After all, we had a great time gambling at Circus Circus for the cheap blackjack. Our hotel, though, was supremely dark, dank, and it made our blood pressure spike a little every time we walked in because we were stuck there. Yes, Vegas is an escape from reality and in some sense, decency. I eat like a fatty and play beer pong until midnight. I don't do that every day, at least not since law school. But to keep from going insane in Vegas, you have to be able to escape Vegas while in Vegas. There is no escape when you're playing AND staying in the saddest spots Vegas has to offer.

Despite the depressing accommodations, we had a lot of fun in Vegas. We were joined by our mutual friend Myke on both nights. Kim's boyfriend and his friend came up from LA as well. So at least we were rolling with a crew. We had all been to Vegas on multiple occasions, so it was the usual for us: drinking, eating, and gambling with good company. We stuffed ourselves at the Wynn buffet and explored some casinos we hadn't seen. I had some terrible overpriced gelato and candy at Sugar Factory, which is apparently popular with all the smartest celebrities like The Girls Next Door, Nicky Hilton, and the Situation. Had I known that before, I wouldn't have wasted my time in there. We tried not to overdo it. Because the next day we were up by 8 a.m. to get to the Grand Canyon, leaving most of our our city adventures behind.

Road Trip v.2 (Part 6): LA

The next morning we gave my car a rest, and hopped in Kim's car to head up to LA and meet Will, yet another great college friend of mine who was putting us up. Will is a filmmaker and recent graduate from the University of Southern California's film school graduate program (link to some of his stuff on my links page). I had a short list of touristy things I wanted to do and we were conveniently picking him up from a film shoot near one of them, Venice Beach.

Venice Beach was about what I expected, a boardwalk filled with trinket stores and bizarre pseudo street performers. Unfortunately, there weren't many beefcakes to ogle on the Muscle Beach area. Still, there were plenty of other oddities to see and wannabe rap stars to avoid. I was surprised at how clean and lovely the beach was. Perhaps it was so well-kept because it was the off-season, but I was expecting a filthy bacteria and trash zone like Coney Island. Don't get me wrong, I love walking around the Coney Island boardwalk too. But god help me if I ever went there to lounge on the beach and put my partially bare ass in that disgusting water. Venice Beach's sand and water, however, surprisingly pleasant.

Of all the freaks on Venice Beach,
the tool riding the Segway in
business casual was the biggest.

Muscle Beach area. 

We walked around Venice for a while, checked out their "canals," bought some cheap body jewelry, and went to the next stop: Santa Monica. It was a quick stop to see the beach and hills in the distance. Most of our tourist stops were quick trips just to "see" something. Nobody was in the mood or financial position for shopping. Eating, however--we are always in the mood for that. Kim and I had mentioned wanting to get burgers at the Foundry upon the recommendation of Kim's chef boyfriend. Will chimed in with his alternative suggestion, and boy am I glad he did. We nourished ourselves with lunch at Father's Office, which is apparently home to one of the best burgers in LA. Hearing about the lines that formed outside the restaurant on most nights, I was expecting a greasy spoon type hole in the wall--something akin to Ben's Chili Bowl in DC. It was definitely a small space, but well-appointed and the burgers would likely be classified as a "gourmet burger." They cook the burgers with blue cheese mixed into the ground beef and topped with carmelized onions. I destroyed that thing; it was awesome. Not my favorite burger ever--that award goes to Kuma Corner in Chicago--but definitely my favorite go-to classic-style burger. I'm not keen on french fries, but the skinny frites-style crispy strips of joy were also tops.

From there we did the rest of the tourist circuit: walking along Rodeo Drive, driving down Sunset Boulevard by the Viper Lounge and Chateau Marmont, and a quick stop to see the Walk of Fame, Kodak Theater, and Grauman's Chinese Theater. Some sort of event was being set up at the Chinese Theater. Sadly, there were no celebrity sightings on the entire trip.

Will gives us a history of LA at
Griffith Observatory

Last on the list was the Hollywood sign. Thankfully, we were with Will, who, in his five years being in the city since we graduated from KU, has become an LA expert. Seriously. Will = best tour guide ever. We assumed we'd just drag Will along with us on a few tourist stops, get some food, and hang out. But Will went out of his way to take us around town and give us all kinds of info on the history of the city. He took us through the winding streets going up the Hollywood hill to two different vantage points of the sign. Then, we hit up Griffith Observatory for awesome views of the entire city. Last major stop was at Scoops ice cream, which I had discovered in my mandatory search for best ice cream in any city we stopped. The flavors were interesting (brown bread was delightful), though limited. To compensate for my failure to do the Kitchen Sink challenge, I got the four-scoop monstrosity that is the equivalent of their "medium." I thoroughly enjoyed my four scoops, despite pressure from my companions to get the six-scoop "large," but it didn't beat Bi-Rite's ice cream.

We killed some time with a couple drinks before attending a film screening hosted by some of Will's fellow USC folks. Afterwards, a late night dinner that I will never forget.

These guys were powerlifting in their
open-air studio with music blasting
on a Sunday evening in downtown
LA. This other guy was just really
into their routine. 

Apparently, LA has some obsession with food buggies specializing in bacon-wrapped hot dogs. I rarely say no to a bacon-wrapped anything. And I'm street food's biggest fan. We pull up to a gas station parking lot where I first I just see a taco truck and gas pumps. Tucked away in the dark, next to a telephone poll was a little old Mexican lady sitting behind a plastic cart on wheels. What the hell? I assumed it was some bootleg tamale-type hook-up where the hot dogs had been pre-made at home. Oh no. She had rigged the plastic cart with some sort of foil covered hot-plate griddle contraption, which managed to cook the dogs to steaming hot point that allayed my food safety concerns. On top of that, she had grilled up onions and peppers to top the dog. I seriously stood there staring at that car, bending down to look underneath, trying desperately to figure out how her set-up worked. Where was the plug? How did the plastic cart not melt into pieces? Will specified our toppings in broken Spanish and we feasted. Standing in the gas station parking lot. Basking in glorious satisfaction. That dog was better than any ballpark or street dog I've ever had. The killer ambiance might be a factor in it's rise to the top.

I think you're required to take this
picture when you go to LA. 

The next day Kim and I slept-in, sleep-coma-style. The frantic schedule of the trip finally caught up to us. We eventually left the house, guilty for our laziness and trying to catch up for lost time. We ate unnecessarily large breakfast burritos, visited the USC campus with Will, attempted to go to the Getty Museum (which is closed on Mondays), and then headed to Pasadena to see the Norton Simon Museum and the Gamble House. We finished our evening with a few dive bars and Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles.

Dive bars in LA are actually really creative in their diveyness. Each has it's own theme--like the Lodge, which is decorated like an old hunting lodge. Only one smelled kind of like dirty shoes, but all the others were actually pretty nice.

Best tour guide ever, Will, also
happened to know where they film
It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia,
one of my favorite shows. This is the
"real" location of Paddy's Pub.

As for Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles, I had no intention of eating there at all. I assumed it was just an overpriced tourist destination with mediocre food. Kim and Will both assured me that the food was actually really good. They were very right. Kim and I had the basic and classic chicken and waffle plate. The syrup either has extra sugar or extra crack in it. I'm not a fan of syrupy things, but I could drink their syrup out of a jug. I poured it all over the buttery waffle and delicious salty, crispy chicken.

The evening ended peacefully with a movie at Will's house. The next day we had another frantic and stupidly-packed day involving driving to San Diego for the day and then driving to Vegas.