"Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale "

Understandably, our one and only night in a bed until New Orleans required us to sleep in. This, however, was not the best plan because we had a 6+ hour drive through OK, AR and into Memphis. We got out the door about 10am and left behind the Sooner State as quick as possible. Finally, the moment had come, we were entered the Deep South. The home of confederate ancestors, the birthplace of the mullet, the land where all pigs come to die (gotta love those pork ribs).

Arkansas was noticeably more attractive than OK. The hills rolled green and thin forests lined the highway. Lunch was approaching and since we weren’t going to stay the night in AR we decided that we should at least grab some food. After some extensive Yelping we determined that in Fort Smith, AR there just might possibly be some amazing Viet food. It seemed an odd choice in the land of BBQ and fried chicken, but we figured that we’d have enough of that in the days to come.
We stopped at Pho Vietnam, which was housed in an old gas station that still had the disconnected pumps in the concrete out front. The restaurant was an odd amalgamation of Viet and Dixie. They had a fish tank with no fish in it, but rather dolls and a confederate flag. Additionally, they had both a singing deer head and fish nailed to the wall. I asked Mylinh if the owners were really Viet (often these places are run by Chinese people) and she said they were, but that they spoke viet with, get this, a southern twang. The food was pretty good, but the pho broth was quite sweet.

We continued on through AR and got into Memphis just as night fell. We were staying in a state park that was located in the southwest corner of the city. It was a nice change because usually state parks with camping are located far from major cities. We set up camp and headed out for the night.

We weren’t sure what to expect. It was clear that we had crossed over into a different world. The billboards showed fetuses and asked for mercy, the people spoke with a slow twang that was like another language, the liquor stores had drive-thrus, but refused to sell on Sundays.
When we got to downtown Memphis our eyes lit up and our hearts began to beat rapidly. It was everything we had hoped for. Beale Street, the main boulevard of Memphis, was blocked off from cars and filled with blues bars, beer, and It. The “it” that Dean Moriarty spoke of in On the Road. The “it” that encompasses cool, amazing, magnificent, soul, - a feeling of seeing the physical manifestation of an idea whose time had come.

We strolled onto the street and instantly blues riffs poured out of bars and into our hearts. Our ears lifted up and we roamed the land looking for drinks and Leadbelly’s twelve bars. Within minutes we had beers in our hands and blues on the mind. Every bar had a band or at least a guitarist showing off his chops.
We chose to be as touristy as possible and decided that since we were in Memphis only once, we’d better head into BB King’s Blues Club. It was actually a pretty cool place, filled with both tourists and locals. The house band was good, with a female singer blowin’ the roof off, but the main attraction was great. Ronnie Barker Brooks is a blue guitarist who definitely knew his way up and down the frets. He plucked and played and worked the crowd to a height. The solos were great and we left with smiles on our faces.

The next morning we were still talking about the amazing coolness and the “It” that Memphis’ Beale Street contained. The feel of the street was contagious and we were sad that we were leaving town later that day. We headed off for the National Civil Rights Museum realizing that we were about to see another much sadder part of the south.

The National Civil Rights Museum was possibly one of the best historical museums I have ever visited. It is housed in the Lorraine Hotel in which Martin Luther King was assassinated in 1968. Deceivingly small looking from the outside, we ended up spending almost 3 hours looking at the exhibit. It took viewers from the slave riots of the 1700s all the way up through modern day struggles, with the climax and majority of the presentation devoted to the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 60s.
It was extremely inspiring and informative and left me in awe of the struggle that was taken on by African Americans. Nothing was particularly new for me as I had learned much of this history in high school and college classes, but to have it brought all together in one place was particularly revealing of the long and turbulent history of this battle for human rights. I was a little worried that it would be a glib look at this history, but it was thoughtful and deep and was a place that I think everyone should visit.

Actually getting to walk into the room that MLK stayed in the day he was shot was eerie. They had preserved the room as it had been on that day with its scattered coffee cups and cigarette butts. The exhibit also contained a fascinating look at the different conspiracy theories that surrounded MLK’s assassination. There was no idea left uncovered and they even had each piece of evidence presented at James Earl Ray’s trial.

Before we left we also made a quick stop by Sun Studios. This is the studio that introduced the world to Elvis, Johnny Cash and many other famous rockabilly stars of the '50s and '60s. They had records lining the wall and too much music memorabilia to list. Among this was one of Johnny Cash's guitars and Elvis's shoes. A pretty cool stop, but a small place.

We finished off our trip to Memphis with a stop at Interstate BBQ. We fed our faces with pork ribs, BBQ chicken, BBQ spaghetti (yes, spaghetti), and, unbelievably, a BBQ baloney sandwich. Mylinh, being a spam lover, requested this concoction and it wasn’t half bad. It kind of tasted like a hot dog, shaped like a hamburger and layered with BBQ sauce. Overall, I left with one thought: I will never tire of BBQ.

Memphis Pictures

I've got the blues so bad...

Not really, but I am currently at BB King's Blues Club in Memphis on Beale Street. It's kind of like Bourbon St., but without the smell of urine (and blues music instead of jazz).

Mine's Bigger Than Your's

We rolled out of Taos, not on the main interstate that would’ve taken us to the I-40 and into Texas, but through the mountainous backroads of New Mexico. The drive was beautiful, with fall colors that rival New England and an empty road that can be greatly appreciated after spending too much time on crowded freeways. On more than a few occasions that day we found ourselves asking each other, “Where the fuck are we?”

We were making our way across the panhandle of Texas, often referred to as the “armpit” of Texas (I didn’t know there was a non-armpit part) and as far into Oklahoma as possible. You see, we were anxious to get to the “real” south, the South were Church’s Chicken is on every street corner, where illiteracy is the norm and where people would be surprised to see an Asian and excited to ask her if she was sorry for attacking Pearl Harbor.

As we crossed the Texas border from NM you could tell something was different. First off, a sign indicated that there is a separate speed limit for those trucks hauling horse trailers – not trailers in general, but specifically horse trailers. Also, the lanes were definitely Texas-sized, that is to say, they are big. We could’ve fit two Hondas or three Minis side by side in one of them. As we pulled onto to one of those spectacularly dangerous roadways that are two lanes with cars driving 80 MPH towards the oncoming traffic as close as they can to the center, I realized that thing are different here in TX.

Deciding to drive into the night and not stop until we had reached the middle of OK we decided that we’d better get some dinner in El Paso. El Paso is one of those towns that seems to be based around the truckers coming through on the I-40. While there are undoubtedly parts we didn’t see, it appeared as if half the city was surrounding this freeway and most of the places were budget motels and eateries. We figured that since we were in Texas we’d better hit up a down-home Texas BBQ.

We chose the Country Barn BBQ, which was conveniently located just off the interstate and also had good reviews on Yelp. Let me tell you, there is nothing more stereotypically Texan than the Country Barn BBQ. We rolled up into the parking lot and found ourselves staring at a 40 foot tall cowboy statue. The building itself is designed to look like a giant red barn. The inside is cavernous – 30 foot ceilings, multiple rooms to eat in, even a jail cell with a table in it. The bathrooms had Texas shaped sinks and, in an effort to be on the forefront of urine temperature control, the urinals were filled to the brim with crushed ice. It was fun to pee into, but I guess the practicality of it was lost on me. The walls were lined with all sorts of flare – John Wayne posters, fake cowboy memorabilia, taxidermied animals – pretty much everything I’d ever want in a Texas BBQ. Oh yeah, the food, it was good, but nothing to write home about – so I won’t.

The panhandle of texas really is an ugly place. It is flat as the eye can see and is usually filled with some sort of wheat-esq farm, oil fields, budget motels or nothing at all. I wouldn’t say I was much happier when we crossed into Oklahoma. A state that is not unfamiliar to me, but one in which I would be just fine avoiding for the rest of my life. The vast improvement at this point was not that we were in OK, but that it was night and I didn’t have to stare at the obnoxiously void landscape. Instead we turned on the radio. At 9pm on a weekday night in OK there are limited things on the radio. Mostly country music and Jesus – not the actual Jesus mind you, but usually a fat guy reading from the bible or making callers feel bad about them or their family member’s sins.

In recent years, I have grown fond of some country music, so that is what we put on. The commercials on a country music station in OK are the best – they include such things as where to take your freshly shot deer for processing into deer sausage or steaks; how to use instructional tapes to help god help your family members get off drugs; and when the next ho-down will take place (I made that last one up).

Driving at night on the I-40 is kind of a lonely experience. Pretty much it’s just you and the truckers. Given our below freezing night in Taos we decided that we would just get to the South as quick as possible. Our strategy was to drive as far into the night as we could across America’s heartland, stop in a motel and then make our way to Dixie. Around 11pm I decided that I had had enough and pulled into one of the many ubiquitous towns that line major interstates. These places are where cross country travelers and truckers stop for cheap, greasy food, chain motels and gas. We pulled the car over and quickly called about 8 different motels to compare prices. Well, just because you compare, doesn’t mean you save. They were all about the same price, so we pulled into the closest one and went to sleep.

I love camping and this trip has been no exception, but something about a bed and four walls feels amazing. Well, that night we slept, but bright and early the next morn we were on our way to God’s Country – the South will rise again.

Texas Pictures

Taos-ism

New Mexico is cold. Not the San Francisco type of cold that I actually look forward to, but the Boston cold that makes my hate life and my surroundings. That being said, Taos, NM is actually a pretty cool place. It is generally considered to be an aging hippy/artsy/tourist trap sort of place and Taos seemed to live up to all of these stereotypes. There were plenty of silver haired, tye dye clad septegenarians walking on streets that were filled with art galleries, which contained art that only a tourist would buy.

When we got into town we went straight for a lunch spot called Orlando's that sources had informed us served the best New Mexican cuisine. NM cuisine is like mexican food, but a little less interesting and not very spicy. Regardless, we each had tasty burritos, mylinh shrimp (b/c she's short) and me chicken (b/c I lack courage), both were covered with green and red sauce, oh so cleverly named "Christmas" style. We then set off to find a place to stay for the night.
We had originally planned on camping in the Cimarron Canyon State Park, but since it was almost an hour away this would have prevented us from seeing Taos before we had to go claim our tent spot and cook dinner over a fire. We tried pricing hotels in the area, which are reasonably priced for an average tourist, but for us cheapos the $50 they were charging was far too much.

We ended up compromising and staying at an RV and Tent Park in town that is actually really nice (read: much needed hot showers). While it was below freezing out we were happy to be surrounded by fences and not subject to the wind. In fact, it was so cold that both our car and tent frosted over and we later saw snow on the side of the road. Before we left on our road trip I promised Mylinh that the weather would be nice, specifically I said, "all the bums go south for the winter, so the weather must be warm." Clearly we weren't south enough.

To round out our day we headed off to a hot spring spa that my parent's suggested. It was just what we needed. There is nothing like dipping into a hot bath of spring water on a freezing cold evening. The baths included such oddities as an arsenic bath, iron bath and soda bath. They were each supposed to have some magical properties like making you invincible Wolverine style. Most importantly we were able to take a shower - something we hadn't been afforded in a couple of days. It was well worth the drive out there.

We woke up after our freezing cold night, warmed up our car, got the oil changed and headed off through the backroads of the New Mexican mountians into Texas.

Taos Pictures

Gas prices

We just saw gas off the freeway for $2.75 entering New Mexico.

On a road trip, and generally in life, gas prices matter - a lot. Currently they are about 48% of our daily budget if it is a heavy driving day. I remember when I first got a car, at 16 years old, gas prices were $1.10 and even then my dad would reminisce about when prices were at $0.35 a gallon.

Since first starting this post, which was done blogging while driving via the iphone, we have seen prices as low as $2.52/gallon. What is most annoying is that oil prices have fallen over 50% since their summer highs of $147 per barrel. While gas reached its peak at $4.11 a gallon at that time, we have certainly not seen gas prices fall by 50%. OPEC's actions as a cartel are both frustrating (because they collaborate to artificially maintain high oil prices) and would be considered illegal if they were US based companies.

Given that even at current oil prices of $75 a barrel, oil is still almost quadruple what it was 6 years ago. Let's hope that gas prices reflect the drop in oil and that oil prices continue to drop - especially considering that both oil demand and consumption is down!!

Big Hole in the Earth

As we entered Grand Canyon National Park Mylinh started to wonder what all the fuss was about. At the top of the canyon (usually referred to as "the rim") there was ugly high desert plateaus filled with pine trees. Then, moments later, I pulled into one of the many viewing areas. Her eyes lit up and the only words she could utter were "wow" and "oh my god." She is surely not the first person to be in awe of the magnificence of the Grand Canyon.

Teddy Roosevelt, the father of the national park system, once said that every American should see the Grand Canyon at least once in their lifetime. The multi-colored layers of rock are mesmerizing and the sheer size of the canyon is daunting.

We set up camp and decided to check out the many viewing areas along the south rim. Although each view was similar to the next, they each allowed you to see different parts of the canyon that are all equally beautiful. We made big plans to wake up at 445am the next morning and hike down 2 miles into the canyon to watch the sunrise.

As you might have predicted, the alarm went off at 445am and when I looked at Mylinh to see if she was ready to get up, she looked back at me like I was crazy. You see, the Grand Canyon region had recently experienced a cold front and on that morning it was 33 degrees out. We made up for our laziness by jumping in the car and driving out to one of the better view points before the 645am sunrise. We then made an hour hike down Bright Angel trail to get a view of the canyon's interior. We had to make it to New Mexico that day so packed up quick, forewent breakfast, and got on the road.

While the GC was spectacular and lovely I don't think it would ever rank as one of my top national parks. It was far too developed and touristy (a great place to see Japanese tourists flashing the peace sign for the camera) and is kind of a one-hit-wonder. However, that doesn't mean I wouldn't love to make a 3-4 day backpacking trip down the canyon to the Colorado River....any takers?

Utah, Not Just for Mormons

We didn't exactly roar out of Vegas, it was more of a meow. We crisscrossed the many ugly streets of surburban Las Vegas trying to find Costco and other establishments to get supplies for our upcoming days of camping. After finding that the main Costco was closed and seaching all around for another, it took us almost 2 hours to leave sin city.

We traversed our way across the corner of Arizona and into Utah to get to Zion National Park. It took a little longer than expected, but it was worth it. As a kid, my parents took my sister and I on a camping trip around the western US and, based on that trip, I remember Zion as my favorite national park. I was worried that I would destroy this memory by re-visiting it in my much more discerning and critical adulthood.

Nothing was ruined. I can easily say that Zion is still an amazing and beautitful place. The red rock cliffs, the warm weather, the river that runs down through the park and right next to our campsite made this a wonderful place to visit. The perfectly delicious swirls of color in the rock cliffs looked like ribbons of Jamocha Almond Fudge ice cream (pretty specific, aren't I). My dad, an original Dharma Bum, recommended that we hike up to Angel's Landing. We took his advice and got up early to make the ascent. The first part of the hike had amazing scenery, like everywhere in Zion, but was boring as far as hikes go (especially since we had just come back from Everest Base Camp). However, the second half of the hike was everything I look for while hiking - unique, gorgeous and dangerous.

This section of the hike starts out by walking along a part of the mountain that jets out away from the rest. This means that on each side of you there are shear cliffs. You continue by jumping rock to rock as you ascend up this piece of the mountain. This would likely be life threatening, but the park service has kindly attached chains to the rock that allow you to grab hold of something as you climb up the near vertical faces with 600 foot drops beneath you. It was quite exhilarating and once we got to the top the views were amazing.

Just to have some fun I decided to not bother grabbing any of the chains on the way down and just rely on the rocks for support. I think it made things easier because you just had to focus on not dying, so the actual trudgery of descending wasn't even noticed. Mylinh did great as she passed up most of the guys on the trail who were astonished by this little asian ninja speed walking and climbing past them.

After the hike we stumbled our way into the town just outside the park's gates. It was a quaint little place that mainly caters to tourists. One bright spot was the opportunity to try bumbleberry pie. Just the thought of eating a bumbleberry made my mouth water and my mind fill with thoughts of plump purple berries that taste like treats from God. As we later learned, Bumbleberries are fictional. Generally, bumbleberry dishes as just made from a mix of seasonal berries. So, the "berry" pie we had was good, but the the lack of a true bumbleberry made us a little sad. Click here for a funny tale of a search for the "real" bumbleberry.

We finished off the day with a dip in the river and a dinner of port, hot dogs and s'mores. The night was warm and we sat by the fire watching the stars and planning our life.

Zion Pictures

Sin City

As we roared down hwy 15 and crossed the border into Nevada the first thing we passed was a set of rundown outlet stores and 5th tier casinos. The most intriguing thing among them was a billboard that read: “Fully Automatic Weapons; Try Before You Buy.” I almost pulled the car off the freeway in order to fill one of my testosterone driven dreams and blow the fuck out of something with an M-16. The allure of Vegas and Mylinh rolling her eyes at me when I tried to convince her to join the fun kept me on the road and off towards Sin City.

We got to Vegas and, in a rare move to spend an extra dollar, we actually booked a hotel as opposed to camping in the desert for free. The hotel, mind you, was the Wild Wild West – no, not a hotel owned by Will Smith – but rather a clean, but extremely cheap hotel located about a ½ mile off the strip. We didn’t mind the walk because we honestly needed to burn off the weight we gained eating with my parents and at the Vegas buffets.

We set down our bags and headed off for the strip. Mylinh looked up at a sign for Zumanity and said “hey, I really want to see that.” Then, minutes later, a serendipitous moment occurred and a guy hustlin’ for New York, New York offered us cheap tickets to that very show. Of course there was a catch. We had to sit through a 2 hour presentation for a time share. We had heard of my parents doing this for free tickets and our theme for this trip is “cheap or free,” so we signed up.

We got to the timeshare sales location and were shuffled into a room with all sorts of other couples looking to get free gifts. Then we were paired up with a sales person and they began their pitch. I obviously, having no money nor interest, was not going to buy a timeshare, but I did my best to be kind to the salesperson nonetheless. However, as far as I’m concerned being kind and being honest go together. When the salesman began asking about our travel habits I kindly explained that we almost never pay more than $!0 a night and regard hostels as our favorite places to stay. Immediately he gave me a look of dread and disappointment - clearly when it came to clients his dice came up snake eyes.

After he questioned us a little about the cleanliness and hospitality offered at hostels the salesman looked at me and said “So you really think you’ll stay in hostels the rest of your life?” I quipped, “Well that or camping.” He smartly replied, “I guess you really like those squat toilets.” The sales meeting wasn’t going as he had planned. Finally half way through, he defeatedly said “well, this probably isn’t for you, but I’ve got to do my job anyway and show you the rooms.” The meeting ended well before the two hour requirement and we received $80 tickets to Zumanity for a lovely $10.

Before the show we decided to resume our original plan and hit up the Bellagio buffet. It was pricey and beyond our budget, but with at least 6 days of camping in front of us we figured it was worth it.


After shoving our faces full of beef Wellington, kobe beef, rack of lamb, sushi, Chilean sea bass and many other tasty treats Mylinh rushed off from the Bellagio buffet to get back to the hotel so we could change and nap before more drinking and Zumanity. I waddled behind her and upon finally catching up explained that she needed to slow down because I had a whole cow floating around in my stomach.

Zumanity was interesting. It was 2 parts cirque du soleil, 1 part burlesque show, 1 part strip show and worth about the $10 and 1.5hrs we spent getting the tickets. I’ll leave any boring descriptions out and just say that there were plenty of topless dancers whose parents are ruing the day they ever sent their child to dance and gymnastics lessons.

Hemorrhaging money is a favorite pastime in Vegas and we were certainly not immune to it. Now, 6 margaritas, 5 beers, 3 tequila shots, a few slot machines and one giant buffet later we have spent almost half our weekly budget. Oh well, hot dogs and s’mores the rest of the week.

Mylinh managed to lose her camera, but not her dignity.

No camera = no pictures. Sorry!

Birthday in the Desert

“Did you bring a gun with you?” My mom asked with a concerned look on her face. “What?” I replied not quite sure what the hell she was talking about. “There are all sorts of rapists and murderers out in the backcountry, I always make your dad bring a gun.” She retorted with a smug smirk on her face. I look over to my dad and ask “do you really bring a gun?” He silently shakes his head out of my mom’s view. And this is how we left San Diego and headed out to the Mojave Desert.
As we turned off hwy 40 and into the Mojave National Preserve we felt a sudden sense of awe. The sun was blaring down on this beautiful high desert oasis and we were excited for our first night of camping. I should also mention that it was Mylinh’s 27th birthday and my dad had sent along a bottle of tequila for us to have in celebration.

We got in, set up camp, and pulled out our equipment. It had been quite some time since I’ve been camping and I wasn’t exactly confident that I remembered how to use the stove and other slightly complicated items like the can opener. So, as to save my manhood, I waited until Mylinh went off to the bathroom in order to fuss and fiddle with the stove and make the many mistakes that would inevitably happen as I figured out how to get it lit. This plan worked and by the time she got back the stove was flaming away and she told me how impressed she was – I nodded back at her confirming my impressiveness.
As darkness fell we sat by the moonlight (not to be romantic, but because we forgot the lantern) and sipped tequila. The moon lit up the entire valley with its surreal neon orange glow and it was almost light enough to read. Unlike many other high desert nights I’ve experienced this one stayed warm and so did we. The next morning we roared out of town down a road that splits the Mojave in two and takes us up to the Vegas Freeway – I-15.

Mojave Pictures

Home of my Forefathers

San Diego, the land of my ancestors, holds a special place in my heart. While driving around SD with my grandfather’s hand-drawn, and not very precise map, I found out that my Great Grandfather once owned a significant amount of commercial property in the area prior to the Great Depression.

Before the depression hit, he actually sold 5 acres for a measly $55,000 to my favorite big box retailer, K-Mart. It looks like K-Mart lost the store in their 2002 bankruptcy because it’s no longer on those 5 acres, but they will still be receiving a letter from me demanding free pressboard furniture and ankle high white socks for my GG’s generosity (I know, I know, $55k is a lot of depression-era dollars, don’t try to curb my arguments with logic).

This stop on our trip was special because we got to stay at a hotel with my parents (who were also coincidentally vacationing there) and my parent’s credit cards. This “coincidence” had the benefit of ensuring that all our food was free (i.e. paid for by mom and dad) and tasted all that much better because of it. I felt we earned our keep by washing dishes in our hotel suite and finding delicious places via Yelp.

Outside of San Diego’s always-sunny weather, warm beaches and beautiful women, the food was a welcome surprise in the region. On a quest for free wi-fi, we stopped by Blue Mug, which is a specialty coffee bar that would curb stomp starbucks (American History X style) any day of the week. First, they offer 25 different coffee beans, anywhere from a simple French roast to the rare and delectable Tanzanian Peaberry. Second, they make each cup of coffee individually in a drip coffee bar. Finally, they offer free (listen-up starbucks) and powerful wi-fi. If you end up in the Escondido area definitely stop by.

Next, before an afternoon at the beach, we went by Hodad’s, a magical burger joint with burgers as big as your face and milkshakes that bring all the boys to the yard. Read: big, tasty burgers and milkshakes with a giant scoop of ice cream on top. This is all complemented by the hilarious license plates they have on the wall and the punk rock they play in the background. Check ‘em out.

Finally, we hit up Bahia Don Bravo, a place I heard about many years ago when my friend Jenna came back to Santa Rosa bragging about SD’s special burrito. This burrito, creatively named the “California” burrito, contains carne asada, guacamole, salsa and, drumroll please, FRENCH FRIES!! Alright, it wasn’t as magnificent as I had envisioned it in my mind, but it was still damn good. Down here in SoCal they don’t serve rice and beans in the burritos, so the French fries were a good substitute and there is nothing quite as satisfying as mixing the side dish of an American hamburger meal with my favorite Mexican concoction, the burrito. In all, I’d roll down here and give one a try, but I don’t know if I’d bother with anything else on the menu.

Thank’s again Jenna for letting us stay at your place when we got expelled from our LA spot (funny story, not our fault, but probably not right for the pages of this blog).

Best License Plates Ever!!

Found at Hodad's, Ocean Beach, San Diego

Doin' It Animal Style

People have always told me, and popular opinion suggests, that the San Diego Zoo is the best in the world. This sounded like hyperbole to me. How can one zoo be any better than the others? Sure, they could have some “special” animals that other zoos don’t have, but outside of, I don’t really care if some zoo has a rare albino bearcat or a two-headed snake. Essentially, all zoos have the same selection of lions and tigers and bears – oh my!!

That being said, the San Diego Zoo is the best zoo in the world. This is based on my ever so expansive travels to zoos around the world including the Barcelona Zoo (with an albino gorilla), the Bangkok Zoo (mainly full of prostitutes) and the exotic SF Zoo. What made the zoo different was not necessarily the animals it contained – although it does have one of the few Giant Pandas in captivity and a wild pig that is technically extinct except for the two living at the San Diego Zoo.
The best part of the zoo, something that complemented the animals living there, was the botanical forest that was landscaped around the exhibits. This garden contained tropical plants from almost every continent on earth (obviously not Antarctica) and included a plant from the Jurassic era that is the oldest living plant on earth. In fact, Dr. Suess used to come to the zoo on a regular basis to sketch the wide array of plants for his books.

While we didn’t get the excitement of a tiger attack (see SF zoo mayhem here), but we had a fun time nonetheless. The pictures speak for themselves as for the beauty and variety of animals. Enjoy!

San Diego Zoo Pictures

Where All My Dreams Came True

Disneyland, like Jesus, is many things to many people. A theme park, the most magical place on earth, a crowded, annoying, overpriced area with little kids running around and obese moms walking slower than turtles. To me, it was all of these things combined.

Our friend Brendan,who works at corporate Disney, hooked us up with free tickets (usually $94). While I don't know if I'd pay full price, I ended up having lots of fun.

In my life, I have shifted from being a Disney-hater to being indifferent about the entertainment behemoth. This left me with the worry that I’d be disappointed by Disneyland. As a child I remember being excited and enthralled by the place. This is despite the fact that when I was four I tried to mimic my sister and stand on top of the railing bars in line, ultimately falling and requiring five stitches in my chin.
The best thing about Disneyland, something that is lost on most children, is the detailing. The ambiance of main street with its faux old-fashioned shops and impeccably clean streets gave the park a sharp contrast to ghetto places like Six Flags. Every line for each ride had its own unique design such as steel spikes with impaled skeletons for Indiana Jones or the life-size animatronic C3PO for Star Tours. It’s hard to explain, but something really did feel different (maybe not quite “magical”) about Disneyland. Even as we walked 100 yards across the way and entered California Adventure some indescribable feeling was lost.

Throughout the day we planned, strategized and executed efficiently (is there any other way to live life?) to go on the most rides in the shortest period of time. We utilized the FastPass system, which helped us to jump from ride to ride never waiting for more than a few moments. Our hit list includes such favorites as: Pirates of the Caribbean, Space Mountain, Indiana Jones, Matterhorn, Splash Mountain, Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, Buzz Lightyear (surprisingly fun), and Big Thunder Railroad. In California Adventure Park we were much less successful and only made it on Tower of Terror (pretty good) and Maliboomer (like an inverted Drop Zone).

While we probably wouldn’t have paid the outrageous prices to get into the park, it was certainly a great day and I will hold my criticism of those overgrown kids (Terra, I’m looking at you) who claim it is the most magical place on earth.

Thanks again Brendan!!

Disneyland Pictures

Delusions of Grandeur on Highway 1

A novel idea it was to traverse down Highway 1, the PCH, the asphalt snake that twists and turns and slithers down the edge of the continent where you can smell the salt and feel the pacific’s water spray on your face. We drove by pumpkin patches and corn mazes bordering sand dunes. After hundreds of miles of zigging and zagging the redwoods of Big Sur towered over us.

What we didn’t realize is that riding down hwy 1 from SF to LA almost doubles the trip. In all, without hitting a lick of traffic or getting pulled over once (despite our expired registration – only technically, it’s in the mail) it took us over 10 hours to get to LA. Usually time on Interstate 5 = five hours.

Leaving the Half Moon Bay area just a couple hours into our trip I looked down and saw that we had a half tank of gas. In our Honda civic I figured this would take us about infinite miles; I was wrong. Just getting into Big Sur I checked the fuel gauge again and realized it was on “E.” I pulled over at the only gas station in town and was about to fill up when I realized they were charging $4.99/gallon. I, being the smart man I am, was not about to be cheated out of my precious dollars. I drove off in search of better gas prices.

A few minutes later the gas warning light came on; I started to worry. I assumed we had about 1 gallon to go based on my experiences with past Hondas and that this gallon would take us about 30 miles. Well, we twisted and turned and sweated and worried our way along the pacific keeping our eyes peeled for any gas station. I shifted into neutral and drifted down hills trying to save every last drop of gas. I even had Mylinh pull out the car manual to see how many miles we could go after the light came on – it wasn’t helpful at all except to tell us that we shouldn’t run the car to the last drop because it would damage the catalytic converter.

Long story short, we made to a gas station outside of Big Sur in the town of Gorda. The car made it about 26 miles after the light came on. The bad news was that the fuel cost $6.19 a gallon. That sure teaches me to be a cheap bastard.

The PCH is a gorgeous drive. While I wish I had done it on my motorcycle (amazing twists and turns, but that trip will have to wait for my good buddy Chris), it was almost as good getting to break in our new car (new to us) and start off our roadtrip. Driving out of Santa Barbara the wind picked up and sand surrounded our car like a downpour of sweet brown sugar.

Disneyland tomorrow, but for now we get to lay our heads in a posh LA neighborhood – thanks Kristen!!!

Highway 1 Pictures

Great American Road Trip

We struggled with our next travel plans. South Asia was coming to a close and our minds were swirling with visions of Indo beaches, Angor Wat day trips and a jaunt along the great wall. We jumped around the earth and decided that the ruins of Machu Picchu were more our style and a trek in the Andes was what we needed (more trekking - wtf?).

I sat there reading Kerouac's On the Road. We were at 12,000ft and climbing along the Himalayas. Dean Moriarty and Sal Paradise were roaring out of Denver and sliding down below the Mason-Dixon line to New Orleans. I turned to Mylinh and said, "no more foreign countries, let's go see America." More specifically, let's go down to New Orleans.

The idea grew in our minds like a virus. Indonesia, Cambodia, China, Peru, Chile all fell out of style like flare jeans. The road trip plans grew and grew.

Look for us traveling from Cali all the way to Georgia and back, all while hitting up such hot spots as LA, San Diego, Mojave, Vegas, Los Alamos (birthplace of the Atom Bomb), Roswell, Austin, Benton, AR (original Walmart), Memphis, Nashville, Kentucky (for bourbon distilleries), Atlanta, New Orleans and numerous other random national and state parks.

The itinerary will undoubtedly change, but our blueprint is the starting point for another adventure and another opportunity to avoid the real world.

If anybody has a place for us to stay along this route we would love a free place to rest our head. Let us know and we promise to be polite and bring lots of beer.