So I know it's been quite a while since my last post, but it hasn't been until recently that I've had the inspiration to write about anything. A few months ago my boyfriend and I decided to move from Philadelphia to Southern California in the hopes of embarking on better careers and a better quality of life (ahem….weather). Here's a little bit about our journey across the country:
We've made it to California, finally. We've actually been here a
few weeks now.
We began the journey by eliminating things from the car—packing
and repacking. In retrospect, some of the things that made the cut (my hula
hoop, Dave’s huge box of books) seem kind of irrational. This is especially
because I forgot the laundry bag full of the clothes Dave and I usually wear,
leaving us with a variety of clothing we rarely don (we've been dressing a lot ritzier than usual). Shortly before we left, we
collected all of our spare change and put it in a doubled up Winnie’s plastic
bag on the dashboard. While turning onto the turnpike from Virginia Drive, the
bag slid off the dashboard, causing a sea of scalding hot change to spill onto
my lap and in between my legs. Ouch—what a way to begin the trip!
The drive across the
country was amazing--so many beautiful things to see in places one wouldn't
expect. We drove through Pennsylvania, to West Virginia (for just a few miles),
Maryland and then to Virginia.
There is a safari park in Virginia where visitors pay a mere $16
to feed llamas, camels, ostriches, wild boars, deer, zebras, bison, and more
exotic animals directly from their cars. This was our first unplanned stop on
the road trip. We quickly learned that llamas are the aggressive homeless
people of the Animal Kingdom. Once you give them a little bit of feed, they
will literally stand in front of your car or stick their fly-ridden faces
directly in yours until you give them more. We eventually shut the windows and
played the waiting game. While we drove along the path, we approached the
bison, which were huge! Dave quickly rolled up his window, screaming in fear of
this colossal animal. Shortly after bypassing the bison, I was pretty sure a
massive, two-humped camel was going to eat my face before I surrendered the
entire feed bowl to him. Dave sat in the passenger seat laughing the entire
time. Pictures to follow--I lost the cord that connects my camera to my
computer and am in the process of finding a new one that actually works (the
first two attempts have failed). After this awesome and unique experience,
we drove until Roanoke, VA, where we ate a BBQ dinner and refueled.
We made it all the way to Tennessee on the first day of our
drive (over 12 hours!) and stayed at a dicey hotel in West Knoxville. The room
was swamp-like hot and there were burn holes in the comforter and fleece,
despite it being a non-smoking room. I also had the feeling we weren’t
alone—but maybe I was just imagining the critters crawling on my arms and
legs...
We spent a lot of time in Tennessee, at least when comparing it
to the time spent in other places on our five-day journey. After spending the
night in Knoxville, we headed straight to Nashville on our second day. We ate
lunch at a really neat restaurant called Whiskey Kitchen, where I had my first
REAL vegetarian meal on the trip. The middle of the country is generally not
vegetarian friendly, as BBQ is a staple in a southern diet.
We then walked around the main drag in Nashville where there was
a myriad of cultural variety against the background of live music emanating
from nearly every bar/restaurant. Not quite ready to leave for our next
destination, we decided to stop to watch the end of the Spain v. Chile World
Cup game at a local bar (one of the few not playing music). As avid Spain fans,
we were disappointed by the loss, but didn't let it get us down so early on our
epic journey.
Our next stop that day was in Memphis, TN, where we decided to
stay the night. We wanted to go to Graceland, but it wasn't open by the time we
got there. Also, ticket prices were a little much, especially after how much we
got for our buck at the Virginia Safari Park. Instead, we decided to go to
Beale Street, which is sort of like the Bourbon Street of Memphis. We soon
realized we had come during Bike Week. There were thousands of unique
motorcycles and bikers flooding the street.
Interesting fact: Beale Street is always closed to vehicles.
It's a super touristy street known for the birth of Blues.
I feel that we missed out a little bit on the real experience of
the street since bikers--so loud and numerous—overran it! Still, it was neat to
see and they had take-away beers I needed both of my hands to hold.
As
the night went on, I began to get the feeling we weren't in the best
neighborhood. Not wanting to miss out on something nearby and interesting, I
texted my father, who has done a lot of business in Memphis, to see if there
was anything we should check out before we went back to the hotel. He quickly
replied, “Do Elvis and Beale Street and then get the hell out of there. Bad
Area.” Say no more, Dad! At that point, we called it a night.
We stayed at a Comfort Inn in Memphis,
which was like a dream compared to the Days Inn the night before. There were
two queen-sized beds with clean, white sheets and comforters and pillows that
were medium or soft depending on one’s preference. The girl at the front desk
told me I looked and sounded like Miley Cyrus, which wasn’t something I was too
happy about. If anything, Miley looks and sounds like me! I’m older! I smiled
and thanked her, though, because I knew she meant it in a nice way and she said
it so sweetly. I guess it could have been the southern accent, too.
The next morning we woke up early with
the intention of stopping in Little Rock, Arkansas. This was the first time I
drove, as Dave was on a roll the first two days and preferred the wheel. Having
been to Arkansas before, I wasn’t too eager to drive through it. The last time
the roads were littered with more road kill than I’d like to imagine, trash,
and shredded tires. We missed the exit for Little Rock and decided to forget
it, since there wasn’t much there, anyway. Almost entirely through the hell
known as Arkansas, we were forced to get off at a TERRIBLE rest stop that I
take full responsibility for choosing. There was nothing to eat and the
restrooms were shoddy at best. Dave bought some kind of jerky to stunk to high
heaven. Despite my doubts, it smelled worse coming out. TMI, I know.
From there, it wasn’t long before we
crossed over into Oklahoma. We stopped at the first rest stop to stretch, have
some coffee, and use the facilities. The rest stop was really neat and
cultured. Inside, there were Native American blankets and crafts, buffalo
heads, etc. Outside, there were picnic tables sitting under open-air tepees. We
walked around a little bit, but it was short-lived after I got attacked by
chiggers and had an allergic reaction that had me itching for a week. I took a
few Benadryl, which I don’t generally like to take, and as expected, got a bit
loopy and delirious.
Our only real detour in Oklahoma was in
Oklahoma City around 6 PM on the third day of our drive. We parked in
Bricktown, which is an old industrial part of the city that is now up and
coming and flooded with young, hipster-y people. We ate at Bricktown Brewery
and tried some of their craft beers. They were pretty good and we had a good
view of another soccer game. We took a brief walk and followed signs for the
Oklahoma City Memorial, but quickly realized the directions were exclusively
for cars, not pedestrians. We really wanted to see the memorial, though, so we
went back to our car and found a free parking spot directly across from the
site of the 1995 Oklahoma City Bombing.
We were really glad we ended up
stopping at this beautiful and powerful memorial, especially since it wasn’t
part of the original plan. Huge parts of the original infrastructure remained,
with commemorative plaques and marble walls surrounding it. The walls each had
the exact time the bomb went off, a very powerful thing to see. Perhaps the
most breathtaking part of the memorial was the white chairs set in rows
representing each floor of the building. Each chair represented a person who
perished and which floor they were on when it occurred. The entire place was
eerily quiet, despite the many people visiting the site, making it all the more
jarring. The memorial was so beautifully done, we both left impressed, but
saddened.
Next, we drove straight through to the
Texas Panhandle. I took another Benadryl, hoping to fall asleep and get some
relief from the relentless itching. Chiggers are the worst! This proved futile,
however, as an EPIC lightning storm erupted onto the flat plains of Oklahoma.
Watching from the car, we could see where the lightning hit the ground, over
and over again. Who ever said lightning never strikes the same place twice?
This is NOT true. The storm lasted for hours and looked amazing against the
beautifully colored sky—azure on the left and rosy pink on the right, a
contrast I’d never seen before. The lightning continued for hours, even into
Texas. Despite the pouring rain and terrifying thunder and lightning strikes,
the native Texan drivers didn’t slow from their 75 MPH speed limit. We tried to
keep up, but my car isn’t great in the rain, so I cautioned Dave to stay right
and slow at least to 60 MPH.
Once we got cell phone reception, I
booked a room at La Kiva Hotel in Amarillo, TX. We were nearly out of gas
before we reached the hotel, so we briefly had to stop and refuel. Amarillo is
terrifying at night. There is literally nothing there except for bright white
crosses strewn across empty fields, against the backdrop of a jet-black sky.
The gas station was the kind of place I imagined my murder would occur. Not to
be morbid, but it was really creepy!
La Kiva Hotel was very close to the gas
station, thankfully. By this point, we had been driving all day and were very
tired. We wearily walked to the front desk where there was not a soul to be
found. We hesitantly rang the bell, twice. No response. A typical-looking Texan
man, who I remember having a toothpick in his mouth (although this could just
be a figment of my imagination), stood up from the couch in the lobby and asked
if anyone had come to see us. When we replied that no one had, he rang the bell
repeatedly without skipping a beat. Still, no one came.
The Texan man just shook his head and tipped
his hat saying, “Things move a little slower ‘round here. He’ll be round in a
minute.”
I called the hotel, to no avail, as no one
answered. Fifteen or so minutes later, the clerk appeared from the outside and
apologized. We eventually got our room key and found our room, despite the
clerk giving us the wrong room number.
After waiting for long to get the key at 4 AM
after driving for hours, I was a little agitated and just wanted to take a
shower and go to sleep. I did my best to stay positive when we walked in the
room and it reeked of cigarettes and felt humid. Even worse, there was blood on
the floor and the sheets felt dirty. Still, I took a shower and eventually fell
asleep.
In the morning, we ate our free breakfast and
hit the road on our way to our next stop: Albuquerque, New Mexico. Texas is a
massive place and driving through it doesn’t make you feel like it’s any
smaller. It seemed to last forever. The only things to see were windmills. So
many windmills!!!! The bugs, true to Texas form, were the size of birds and
relentlessly kept committing suicide against the windshield (my car STILL needs
a good washing). There were some putrid-smelling cows, as well, but the
entrance to their enclosures clearly labeled them as future beef. L
By this point, we had driven over 1,800 miles
and were completely bored. We’d covered nearly the entire continental United
States in the license plate spotting game and we didn’t have any cell phone service
so our music choices were very limited (none of the CDs in my car go past track
7, for some reason). Near Vega, TX, the flat farmland begins to look more
desert-like. I tried to take pictures, but the camera doesn’t do the desert any
justice, especially from a moving car.
Finally, we entered New Mexico, “the land of
enchantment”. It was crazy how quickly the landscape changed. It was noticeably
hotter, even in an air-conditioned car and the sky was SO BIG—it was the
clearest blue with thin, cirrus clouds lining the uppermost part. There is only
so long that a person can enjoy the same, unchanging landscape, however, and we
soon became bored again as there was nothing at all for miles and miles. We ran
out of water and there was nowhere to stop for what seemed like ages. It just
so happened that ironically, or not maybe, that I was thirsty in the desert. Of
course. Eventually we found a rest stop in Encino, NM called Bowlin’s Flying C
Ranch. I’m not sure how it was a ranch since we didn’t see any animals, or a
ranch, for that matter, but the rest stop itself was really neat. There were
lots of Native American crafts and jewelry. There were also interesting snacks,
like centipedes in lollipops. We bought really neat hologram postcards
picturing pictures of the desert, wildlife, and the annual Balloon Fest in New
Mexico each year. Dave bought me a pair of stud earrings made from pennies.
They’re so cool and different! Most importantly, we stocked up on water. Side
note: they have a brand of water in New Mexico called “Desert Survival”.
After we left the “ranch”, we kept on trucking
to Albuquerque. I ended up finding several partial CDs so we had some music, but not much. New Mexico
looks a lot like the rest of the desert, but there are beautiful mountains and
the bluest sky you’ll ever see. There are little rancher houses scattered
across the land below the mountains. I wondered what it was like to live there.
We still didn’t have any cell phone reception and there was nothing at all
nearby. It felt so desolate.
A couple hours later, we made it to
Albuquerque. We used Yelp to find a good, authentic Mexican restaurant, but
when we got there we realized it was a hole in the wall and weren’t willing to
take the chance. Instead, we stopped at Marble Brewery, a mile or two away.
They had craft beers brewed on site and they were delicious. I had what I
considered to be the perfect IPA—very hoppy, just a bit piney, and mildly
bitter. Their food wasn’t as good, limited to about five items, of which we
ordered terrible nachos that we barely finished. We only talked to a few
people, but of them, not one was a native of Albuquerque. The place seemed to
have a huge influx of young people from other states. We would have liked to
stay longer, but we had to keep going to stay on track.
We got back on I-40 (the route we took for a
huge part of the trip) and again, we lost service. At least there was beautiful
scenery—red rocks, mountains, and great sky. Several hours later, we crossed
the Arizona border, where the scenery immediately improved. The entire backdrop
looked like what I imagined the Grand Canyon would look like, I’d be proven
wrong later.
We stopped in Flagstaff, AZ for the night and
ate at a restaurant called Salsa Brava. It reminded me of Adobe in Roxborough,
where I often go with Lisa and Tiff, except that it wasn’t happy hour and they
weren’t with me. Dave and I munched on yummy burritos and had delicious house
margaritas—mine was pomegranate. We booked the nicest hotel of the trip while
at dinner—a Marriot with an amazing comfortable bed, great shower, and
impeccably clean room. I definitely slept better that night than the previous
three.
In the morning, we awoke leisurely and got our
things together. We dropped off our postcards at the front desk for the
concierge to mail for us. Then, we went to get some lunch in downtown
Flagstaff, before heading to the Grand Canyon. We ate at Flagstaff Brewery, which
was a cool, trendy, very small microbrewery on the main drag of the small town.
After lunch we briefly stopped at an outdoors store to look for pants. After
the chigger incident in Oklahoma, I didn’t want to deal with any more bites or
stings and any pair of pants I had were buried deep beneath the rubble of our
belongings. After grazing for a few minutes, I decided I didn’t want to spend a
minimum of $80 on ill-fitting hiking pants. If I got bit, I’d just deal with
it, I told Dave.
The Grand Canyon is about two hours or so from
Flagstaff, AZ. Our goal was to be there to watch the sunset, so we were a bit
ahead of schedule. There isn’t much in between Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon
Village, mostly just luscious trees and little to no service. (I know I keep
mentioning service, but it was our only way to access entertainment, and it
wasn’t until we were officially out west that it began to fade out.)
After a long, windy drive through a remote
desert and very little else, we arrived at the entrance to the South Rim of the
Grand Canyon. It only cost $25 for our car and entry fee, which lasts for seven
days. Generally, it takes about two weeks to see the entire Grand Canyon.
As much as we would have liked to stay for a
week, we had to keep in mind that this wasn’t a vacation, but rather, the
beginning of our new lives out west. The journey there could absolutely be fun,
but we had to be smart about our finances and resources.
Upon obtaining our park pass, we drove to the
parking lot of the South Rim. Even the drive to the lot was a few miles and
very slow moving. After we parked, we sprayed ourselves with sunscreen and bug
spray, poured a bottle of wine into a water bottle (what’s a once-in-a-lifetime
sunset without a toast?), grabbed the camera and set off on our hike. The park
itself was absolutely beautiful and very clean. There were people from all over
the world visiting the Canyon, speaking in foreign accents and various
languages. It’s easy to forget that such beautiful things exist in your own country
when you live so far away from them. It hadn’t occurred to me that so many
people from literally all corners of the earth—China, Australia, the UK, South
Africa, Mexico, etc.—would flock to a national park for a vacation. I quickly
realized why this place has so much allure, though. Nearing the railing
separating the public from the massive drop to the bottom of the Canyon, my
heart started to race and I held my breath. I looked at Dave, realized we were
about to see something amazing and said, “Are you ready for this?” His face
conveyed the same emotions as mine as we joined hands and walked forward.
That first view of this enormous natural
wonder was more than I could have anticipated. It was so vast and intricate,
impossible to take in all at once. It was challenging to imagine that we were
only seeing a small segment of the entirety of the canyon. We looked to our
left and saw people sitting on the edge of one of the cliffs overlooking the
bottom of the canyon. While there are fences barring onlookers from an
accidental fall, it is absolutely permitted to hike down and up the canyon’s
cliffs. Being terrified of heights myself, when Dave suggested we hike down to near where those people were dangling
their legs off what seemed to be a rock on the verge of falling, I cringed and
shook. Still, I eventually got up the courage to climb down a little bit. Dave
asked me to stand on a rock and pose for a picture. I stood there and made the
mistake of looking down. Immediately, I began to shake, my knees locking, and
my heart pounding. “Take the picture!” I urged him, anxious to get back to
sturdier ground. As frightening as it was, the adrenaline pumping through my
veins encouraged me to go a bit father.
We eventually made it to the same edge that
the people we spotted across the way were on. The one male who was sitting
there was talking to Dave and mentioned his friend was from South Africa.
Having spent some time there, just the notion that someone from there was doing
this gave me a little more confidence. I know it sounds odd, but something
about South Africa comforts me and makes me feel safe. It turned out he had
family from SA, but he wasn’t from there at all. Regardless, Dave and I sat
there on the edge for quite a while until it started to get to sunset time. I
suggested we find a perfect viewing spot for the sunset, since we hadn’t yet
seen the whole park—it was hard to keep moving there since everything was so
beautiful, it would take hours, maybe days to fully appreciate.
We bid adieu to the two guys on the cliff and
moved on. We found a sectioned-off, secluded area with a perfect view of where
the sun would be setting. We decided to take root there while we waiting for
the sky to darken. Unfortunately, it was a bit cloudy that day, so we couldn’t
see the sun as clearly as we would have liked. Despite the mild cloudiness, the
view was still breathtaking and the sunset proved to be no less impressive. We
sat and watched for a couple hours, sipping our wine, and listening to “Country
Roads” by John Denver, which had become the primary theme song of our trip.
Though we were reluctant to leave, it had
gotten dark, and we had places to be. The plan was to drive straight through
the night to our final destination—Marina del Rey, CA, with a quick stop by the
Hoover Dam and Las Vegas, just to take nighttime pictures. We were both pretty
hungry after hiking for so long at such a high altitude, so we stopped at one
of the first places outside of the park entrance. As we waited for our food, we
hit the salad bar out of desperation and found a seat. Shortly after, Dave had
an Italian hoagie and I had some cheese ravioli. After we finished eating, we
were on our way.
It was about 8:30-9 PM by this point, but we
had some 5 Hour Energy’s in the car. I don’t like to drive at night because I
have a hard time seeing clearly and I tend to get sleepy, so I asked Dave if I
could drive the first leg of the trip. Sufficiently full from our recent meal,
he had no problem taking a nap for the first few hours. Getting back to I-40
from the Grand Canyon entrance is about thirty miles and there is no light
whatsoever. At one point, maybe fifteen miles until the exit, I spotted an elk
crossing sign. It wasn’t but one full minute later that my headlights landed on
a huge, almost majestic elk standing on the side of the road, as if waiting its
turn to cross. I immediately slowed down a bit.
It was a few hours before there was any sort
of light on the pitch-black roads and the car was starting to run out of gas
before this point. Dave eventually woke up and began to route us towards the
Hoover Dam. We were under the impression that we would just be driving by and
able to snap photos on the way, but we soon found that this was not the case.
We took an exit that led us to a very dark, creepy, and frighteningly
dangerous, narrow road. The entire path felt as if we were on the edge of a
cliff without a railing. Finally, some lights appeared and we came upon a state
employee in a booth by the entrance. As we approached, he informed us that the
dam closed at 10 PM (it was 2 AM). Having gone out of our way, we were pretty
bummed out that we weren’t able to see it, but we cut our losses and kept on.
Nevada, unlike the other states we drove
through at night, was much more lit up, even before Vegas. It was really neat
to drive past Las Vegas and see all of the lights at night. Even at 4 AM, the
city was bustling with activity. We managed to snap a few shots and were
excited to have completed the last of our “must-sees” list. We refueled right
before the California border and went in to get more 5 Hour Energy and use the
restroom. I was still itching and exhausted anyway, so I took a few more
Benadryl.
It was at this stop that Dave started to feel
queasy. Right before we got back in the car, he vomited outside the car.
Thinking the worst was over; he took the wheel for me. It was only a few
minutes later, that he began to feel sick again. Asking me for a plastic bag,
he became violently ill while driving. I eventually convinced him to stop at a
rest area and let me drive to the nearest town so he could be sick in peace.
Reluctant to stop less than three hours away from our final destination, he
asked if I could just drive a while longer until he felt better. However, this
never happened. We got off at the first exit we could find, which turned out to
be a complete ghost town with no vacancy. Of course, we needed gas as well, and
there was only one gas station around with regular priced at $4.79/gallon. It
was at the gas station, that I booked a hotel at the nearest town, Bakersfield,
CA.
It was about 20 miles away and I drove as
quickly as I could to get my terribly sick, food-poisoned boyfriend to a
bathroom he could use for a few hours. When we made it, at around 5 or 6 AM,
the concierge said the reservation was technically for 3PM that day, not the
morning. Despite him being difficult, I got a key for yet another dicey motel
room. When I came back outside to take Dave to the room, my car was surrounded
in a circle of vomit. Things were not getting better for him. Needless to say,
he spent the night in agony, managing only an hour of sleep before we set off
for Marina del Rey, a mere two and half hours away.
We left pretty quickly, as the room had been
nearly destroyed by Dave’s violent night of poisoning. The drive was pretty
boring until we got to Pasadena, about 45-60 minutes outside of LA. It was here
that we got our first glimpse of what we thought was LA traffic, sitting in a
standstill jam for half an hour before moving at all. We soon found out that a
car wreck was to blame for the hold up and the rest of the ride was pretty
smooth.
My sister-in-law’s brother left the keys in a
hiding spot for us, which we picked up and then headed to our new home for the
next month or so. My brother and sister-in-law were in Israel and wouldn’t be
back for the next week, so we had the house to ourselves. We unlocked the gate
and walked into a yard that looked like it belonged in the DIY section of
Pinterest—a long wooden picnic table with benches on either side, garden lights
lining the top of the area, surrounded by palm trees, and a patio with a large
two person lounge chair. Finally, we made it home.
Since we’ve been here, we’ve been exploring
the massive city of Los Angeles, visiting beaches, sightseeing, and trying new
restaurants. Most importantly, though, is our search for work, as this isn’t a
getaway like our other visits to this beautiful state. For Dave, I think it
will be easy, as he has a solid finance background and has already had some
offers. For me, maybe not so much since I’m trying to change careers from the
restaurant industry to the sales/marketing field of work. Things are looking
promising though, this week I’ll hear back from a real estate marketing company
where I would be a studio manager if hired. There were three interviews and the
last one went very well, so I’ll see!
I hope everything is going well back home and
that you all are enjoying the summer. I miss everyone so much and really hope that you can all
come visit sometime—maybe in the winter when there’s a million feet of snow on
the ground! I’ll be home for the holidays in December, so if nothing else, I’ll
come see you all. I know this post is incredibly long, but I didn’t want to
leave anything out. Thanks for bearing with me.
Best,
Britt
B :)