On our way to Boston, Day Three

Hard to believe that we were in California only 60 hours ago, and now, some 1000+ miles later, we're in Santa Fe.

Here's the story so far: We've taken up permanent residence in a concrete wigwam village located on "historic" Route 66 in Holbrook, Arizona. We traded our Corolla for something a little more classic.

OK, so that's a bit of a stretch. We have seen an awful lot of Route 66, however, which was once a thriving tourist corridor across the southwest. Today, highway 40 has replaced most of it -- much more efficient, but less lively. Large parts of Route 66 still exist, but they are fairly run-down and only occasionally do you come across something as entertaining as a concrete wigwam village. Most of it consists of stores selling trinkets (Indian jewelry, petrified wood, etc).

We also managed to get to one of the few truly awesome sights in the US: The Grand Canyon.

Describing the Grand Canyon is not easy. It reminds me of how I felt when I first saw Venice (in Italy, not LA): You can't believe that a place like this truly exists, even when you see it with your own eyes. It's gargantuan, endless, breath-taking, etc. It takes hours and hours just to drive around, much less hike it (which we didn't have time for, but I would love to do some day -- is my brother reading this?). Not surprisingly, even a century ago entrepreneurial Americans were finding ways to capitalize on the canyon as a tourist attraction.

Here's another view to give you some idea of the scale of the place:


Apparently, April is a slow tourist time at the canyon. The drive up was easy, but even on a "slow" day, parking took some time, and there were decent-sized crowds milling around.

Two people commented on D's "Red Sox" cap -- one positively, one negatively. It's like being back on the East Coast already.

One of our first stops on our trip (telling our story a bit backwards here) was at the famous Baghdad Cafe in Newberry Springs, California. They made a movie about this place, although neither of us have ever seen it. The cafe is also on Route 66. Other sites in Newberry Springs include... well, not much.

We met this guy at the Baghdad Cafe. He was the only employee there when we were there. Here are three things we learned about him during our brief visit:

1. He attended MIT.

2. He spends most of the year working as a repo man making $1,000 per day. The rest of the year, he's apparently a short-order cook in Newberry Springs.

3. He goes by the names "Keystone", "Philip (with one "L") Andrew", and (wait for it), "Shaggy".

4. He flies private planes, landing at some of the most difficult airstrips in the world.

Sorry, that's four things.

[D's edit: I have no idea if this guy was for real, but he was incredibly entertaining and he made a mean buffalo burger.]

We've seen more amazing scenery along the way than we can do justice in words. More pictures later. Unfortunately, we've also seen more depressing Indian reservations than we ever knew existed -- a seemingly endless supply of trailer parks and run-down or nonoperative cars by the side of the highway, mixed with signs for casinos, signs for "REAL INDIAN JEWELRY! NEXT EXIT", and "Navajo Travel Centers", which look exactly like Howard Johnson's highway stops everywhere else in the US, except signs outside the "Travel Center" state that they have "Certificate of Authenticity" so you know they are run by real Navajos (I think).

That's all for now -- we've got a full day in Santa Fe planned for tomorrow.

[D: I'll add just a few notes here. We left Reedley in a whirlwind and are missing folks already (T-man, the vintage car photo - plus more to come - is for you!!!). 24-hours after leaving we were on our way up 180 to the Grand Canyon, stopping to take pictures in front of Mt. Humphrey's and cursing the RV going 10-miles under the speed limit in front of us. As P mentioned above, the Grand Canyon was simply awesome. As were the buildings built throughout the park in the early 20th century by Mary Colter (see link for her work). We walked a huge chunk of the Rim Trail - 15,000+ steps! - and then, completely bushed, took the free shuttle bus back to the Visitor's Center. On the way back to our hotel, we stopped at some Indian ruins that were very cool, and particularly striking as the sun set. The next morning we headed out of Flagstaff for Santa Fe, but not before 1) purchasing a GPS system that has since become P's favorite new toy; and 2) taking a detour to view ancient cliff dwellings at Walnut Canyon. On our way to Sante Fe we stopped to take pictures of giant cartoon dinosaurs by the highway, marveled at both the breathtaking scenery and heart-breaking poverty of Northern Arizona and Eastern New Mexico, and ate authentic Mexican food at a Taco Bell on the outskirts of Gallup, NM (yeah, we're not proud). Now I am THRILLED to be in Santa Fe... more on that later.]

Q: The Winged Serpent

I've wanted to see this movie since I read an article about screenwriter/director Larry Cohen in the New Yorker a few years ago. Thanks to Netflix, we finally did, and I wasn't disappointed -- it was the B-movie for which I had hoped, combining my favorite things in a movie: Iconic locations (the Chrysler Building), stop-motion dinosaurs, oddball actors, and a reasonable running time. (No one likes a self-important movie). D liked it, too.

Sadly, we chose to top this off with a truly awful episode of Dr. Who. P.

Bloomie for POTUS

When I was 16 years old, I had my Jewish confirmation in the sanctuary of Main Line Reform Temple. We were all supposed to give speeches during the ceremony, and, being the politically-obsessed geek that I was in high school, I stood up and gave a speech about how we should all take our responsibility to vote seriously (ironic, since I couldn't do so for another two years). I also threw in a word or two about how great Arlen Spector was; I was working on his primary campaign at the time, trying to ensure he beat the pants off an opponent who authored the infamous Pennsylvania Abortion Law and who insisted that a woman who is raped cannot get pregnant because her brain defensively secretes an enzyme that eats the fetus. (And that dude's wife was a nurse!) After my speech, my rabbi emphasized that each member of the confirmation class had written his or her own speech. Later, a curmudgeonly old guy was kind enough to inform me that the rabbi had said this so as not to appear to be endorsing a candidate and thus risk losing the synagogue's charitable status. I'm not sure this would actually happen - there is such a thing as free speech in this country, even inside a synagogue. But nevertheless, ever since then I have been a little bit more reticent to share my political beliefs with a large group of strangers.

Well, here goes... MICHAEL BLOOMBERG FOR PRESIDENT! C'mon Mike, you know you wanna! [And here, dear friends, I digress from saying terrible things about a certain other NYC mayor currently dreaming about 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. Just in case Bloomie does run, I wouldn't want to disqualify myself from getting a job with his campaign due to a blogosphere indiscretion that no one but H and my mother-in-law will read anyway.] Anyway, I really do think he's the best candidate out there: smart, independent, creative, fiscally responsible, committed to the environment, pragmatic in the best sense of the word. If any one politician deserves credit for pulling NYC out of its post-9/11 doldrums - and for protecting it from further harm ever since - it's Bloomberg. He may decide not to run - hey, remember I said the guy was smart? - but for now, I'm still keeping hope alive.

In other news... the Cheshire Lodge in St. Louis is quite the trip. Like somebody decided to stage a Shakespearean play in Dr. Frankenstein's castle. But that's pretty much all you're gonna get from me, because I waited too long to pen the sequel to the last post and now the moment has passed. SORRY! You can check it out for yourself for less than $100/night.

Also, I can honestly recommend TWO new movies out now - how often does that happen? MICHAEL CLAYTON was fantastic. I had very high expectations for a movie written by Tony Gilroy that starred both George Clooney and Sydney Pollack, and this one did not disappoint. But the even bigger surprise (though not necessarily the superior of the two movies) was GONE BABY GONE. Good acting, plot twists I didn't see coming... and it was directed by Ben Affleck!?! Now, I was never one to disparage good ol' Ben in the first place. Probably because 1) I never actually saw any of his crappy movies, only the early good ones; 2) he's hot; 3) he seems relatively intelligent and has both a sense of humor and a good grasp of politics; 4) he's hot; and 5) he had the good sense to trade in the old Jennifer for a much newer and improved model. But I really didn't expect this. I mean, every so often I would tear myself away from the movie to think: "really? Affleck did this? You go, Affleck!" Or even: "take that, Matt Damon!" -- D

Sox Sweep

Woo hoo!! I wore my Red Sox hat all over St. Louis this weekend, and I have to say St. Louisians were waaaaaaaaaay more polite about it than those assholes I used to encounter in NYC. P and I watched Game 4 tonight, laughing with AL about how, for the first time in the history of the world, P watched more World Series games than he did. Finally, a legitimate win for Mr. Sports.

As for St. Louis, I owe it an apology. Remember those asshole New Yorkers I referenced not three lines ago? Well, I'm kinda one myself. And one of the main symptoms of the "Asshole New Yorker" syndrome is that you assume all other cities are completely worthless. Obviously there are some exceptions. I just didn't expect St. Louis to be one of them. I was totally wrong. Now granted, I did not go into the downtown area. (I could see the St. Louis Arch from my hotel - the Cheshire Lodge... more on that later - and felt no need to get closer.) But P and I had a great time wandering around the Clayton and Central West End areas.

Day 1 we headed straight for the New Cathedral. The mosaics there are breathtaking. I have never been to the great basilicas of Europe, but this certainly put anything I've ever seen in the US to shame. We then did a 180 and went to have brunch at the leading Jewish deli in town, Kopperman's. (I'll call it a Jewish deli, mainly because they served knishes, cheese blintzes w/sour cream AND whitefish... though at the waitress' suggestion I tried the less bony smoked trout, and I was not disappointed. But this place is NOT kosher, no matter what their marketing says. I mean, they served eggs benedict for god's sake! I'm not complaining; it drove me crazy that I couldn't order a milkshake with my corned beef sandwhich at the Second Avenue Deli. But c'mon... ) I loved this place, with its red walls, large-scale P.T. Barnum artwork and scratchy Ragtime soundtrack. We sat in the window, looking out on red brick neo-Tudors, wrought-iron fences and English-style gardens. And especially as it had just rained, the whole Central West End seemed to have that Europe-by-way-of-Woody Allen-movie flavor that always tugs at my heart. Add in the antique stores, art galleries, cupcake bakery and awesome independent bookstore, and P and I were hooked! We even called a realtor to inquire about a huge house for sale directly opposite the deli, on one of the lovely, tree-lined residential streets that itself was fitted with a wrought-iron fence. Newly renovated 3-story, 5 bedroom/4 bath with pool and hot tub for under $1 million. We were nearly sold, even without the knowledge that the house was currently being rented by one of "the Blues" (whatever the hell that is). But couldn't figure out how we would explain to friends and family that we were moving to St. Louis on a whim. They already think we're crazy.

Later that day we want to L's wedding. The ceremony was held in the chapel of the Student Catholic Center at Washington University. It was really beautiful, presided over by a Jesuit priest - a family friend of the groom's - who had been flown over from Dublin for the occasion. His lilt was so soft it made me tingle, the same way my Mysticism professor's did at Yale. (Yes, I took Christian Mysticism. I thought it would be an enjoyable gut class. It was very enjoyable... especially since the elvish professor's voice seemed to put me in a meditative trance. But I seem to remember getting a crap grade... well, by Yale standards anyway. Maybe I was too much of a neurotic Jew to truly "get" it.) L looked beautiful. Afterwards we walked to the reception in Forest Park. The best wedding band, ever! I could not stop dancing. Even at the end of the night, when my feet hurt and my eyes were closing involuntarily, I had to get up for Proud Mary (as did AW, who was quite the boogier... ). The whole "Motown Review" thing was excellent.

Okay, it's almost midnight and I am exhausted. Tales from Washington University, the St. Louis Zoo, and the craziest, campiest hotel this side of Transylvania will have to wait until tomorrow.

Oh, and one more thing... GO SOX!!! (Please don't hate me, dear Philly family.) -- D

Raisins

One of the nice things about living in this part of rural America is the fresh fruit. Obviously we don't have that year round. But we do have raisins year round. The closest "tourist attraction" near us is the Sunmaid Raisin Factory. Since 9/11 you can't take a tour of food processing facilities, but you can visit the Factory Store, which has tons of gourmet treats and, yes, lots and lots of raisins. I tell you this in part because I really do enjoy their raisins (particularly the ones dipped in dark chocolate). But also because it leads me to my favorite story of the week...

Since J was away the beginning of the week on a business trip, we invited H to bring the kids by before dinner Tuesday night for some play time. The kids were playing around the piano when I noticed what looked like a golden raisin on the carpet. I was about to pick it up when I realized what it was... T-man's pull-ups had overloaded and he was dropping some loads on the carpet! Okay, you know I am ready to have kids when not only did I not mind, but I actually found it adorable. Not that I am extending an open invitation to come over and poop on my floor. But hey, shit happens. (Sorry... I so clearly had to go for that one.) And it's a rental.

We're off to St. Louis bright and early tomorrow morning for L's wedding. -- D

More outtakes from rural America

Back from Carmel, and we had a chance to see Hillary Clinton speak on Monday in our area. I have no strong political opinions going into this election, but I got to be a VIP at this event (thanks to a connection D has) and I'm not working this week, so hey, why not. As I suspected, the bar for being a VIP is pretty low. Anyway. She spoke at a big city high school in our area, and was preceded by every local Democrat of any prominence, past or present. Oh, and by every high school performing organization you can imagine -- band, choir, flag and rifle corp, cheerleaders, Junior ROTC, you name it. You have to wonder if this is the most difficult part of campaigning -- the mind-numbing sameness of all of it.

Interestingly, the speaker preceding/introducing Hillary (Dolores Huerta) made references to Kerry, Gore, Bobby Kennedy, FDR, Ted Kennedy, but not Bill Clinton. OK, maybe not so surprising. More surprising is that she spent time talking about Nancy Pelosi and Eleanor Roosevelt, but never mentioned that California has two female Senators as well...

Hillary was hoarse, but her stump speech was reasonably engaging. A few awkward references to farmers were thrown in for local benefit, making me wonder how many farmers were attending political rallies on Monday mornings. From the look of the crowd of 3000+, maybe 1 or 2. Hillary talked about what it was like being a woman running for President, and said she was heartened by the number of mothers bringing their school-age daughters to see her, as well as 90+ women who had been born in the days before the 19th amendment.
Well, of course: Who else has the time to attend political rallies besides stay-at-home parents and retirees?

D and I are still catching up on our Doctor Who episodes. Most recently, "The Idiot's Lantern", a fairly strong episode. -- P

Okey Dokey Artichokey

Well, it's finally happened... we're starting a blog! And we're doing it from Carmel, where it's been a two-artichoke day. This may be the last time we write together. (P is convinced that if we insist on writing everything together, we'll never post anything.) But we're both here right now. Because really, what is there to do in Carmel after 10pm apart from start a blog while watching old Will & Grace reruns? (P would want you all to know that it's really me watching the Will & Grace rerun.) Thanks to H for inspiring us to get going on this blog (and for restoring my sanity). -- D

Our first blog and we're already including shout-outs? Is that what the internet has come to? Remember when it was about "push technology" and ActiveX? Anyway, Carmel is great, and we've been here quite a few times in the past few years. Small, well-placed, relaxing, and beautiful. Generally good weather. But mainly relaxation is the reason for coming down here. Certainly not shopping, unless you like trendy art, in which case, this place is for you! There's about a 1:1 ratio of art galleries to actual citizens of Carmel. And in 3 years of visiting, it seems like a lot of the art hasn't been sold... well, tomorrow it's off to see the Carmel Mission. We've been there before; it's an interesting piece of California history, and the burial place of Father Serra (who is memorialized in various places around the state). He founded quite a few of the 20 missions that dot California's coast, and while neither D nor I are Catholic, we admire those folks who would willing spend their lives trekking 20 miles at a time to get from mission to mission for years and years on end... D thinks we should start a hostel-like network along El Camino Real, the 19th-century road that connects all of these missions, and convince modern adventure travelers to make the trek themselves. Or, religious fanatics. My guess is that the former won't need to see more than 3 missions before wanting to do something else (they all begin to look the same pretty quickly) and the latter would rather drive than walk. Perhaps they'd walk it in the Holy Land, but not when In-N-Out is only a few miles away.

I'm taking the whole week off -- my first entire week off in 2 years since moving to R. "You're not really taking it off," says D, which is probably accurate. Stay tuned. -- P