Worst. Blogger. Ever

We're home. I know, you would never know it given that we left off in San Diego, CA.

Here's the deal, driving around on highways upwards of 9 hours a day, every day, for a month and a half is exhausting. Your eyes get tired, your shoulders ache, you just want to go to sleep every time you get a bed like surface to sleep on. I have a ton of half written blogs that I started to write but ended up just saying things like "Arizona is pretty". I know that my readers expect nothing but quality, so I chose to stop blogging until I returned.

Unfortunately, multiple people contacted my mom and asked if something horrible had happened to me because of the sudden blog stoppage. I apologize. I didn't realize so many people cared about my well being and I thank those who contacted my mom. For those who didn't contact mom....what the hell!?!?! I could be lying in a ditch in Utah and you wouldn't have done anything. Thanks. Thanks a lot.

Now I'm back and I have nothing to do. Today I slept until noon before declaring victory in my battle against the Lawrence Township Library (90+ dollars in fines over the past 10 years mysteriously gone, this is what happens when you wait things out). After that I declared the day a success, came home and had a glass or two of wine. This is my life now, and will continue to be my life until someone finds these traits employable. As a result, I have lots of time to tell you stories of our time on the road. So keep checking back, this blog is not done, it's not even halfway done. Our drive may be finished but the trip is far from over.

Here is a preview of what's to come

Sun is in the sky, oh why oh why would I wanna be anywhere else

We weren't quite done with California after our LA adventures, so we slipped down to San Diego for a quick visit. I didn't really know what to expect from San Diego. I heard it was gorgeous, and I knew it had the greatest zoo in the world. I like gorgeous places and I love the zoo so I figured I would be fine.

We pulled up to Chiz's friend Charisse's house and had barely put our stuff down before she had us back out the door and on a whirlwind adventure around the city. I handed her our car keys and enjoyed the backseat of the car for the first time on this trip...after we had uncovered it from a layer of stuff. First stop was burritos at a gas station. Fine, the burritos were at a restaurant...that was at a gas station. No matter, they were fantastic. More importantly we tried horchata, a cinnamon-milk drink, for the first time. That was pretty yummy, I could get used to that.

After lunch we went down to the harbor where we saw tall ships and a series of sculptures. Charisse and Chiz, both bio majors, eagerly posed in front of a sculpture of a DNA double helix. Not wanting to alienate me, Charisse offered to take my picture in front of some urban development. I declined, but quickly snapped a picture of a cool art deco building immediately after she said that.

We walked up to San Diego's Little Italy after that. This allowed us to see a bit of the city. It was a weird city because...no one was there. Apart from a group of skateboarding youth the place was empty. Little Italy was decorated with banners of famous Italians. While I assumed they were famous Italians who are somehow associated with San Diego...they weren't. Even more perplexing was their choice of celebrities. They led off with architect Cesar Pelli...a strange lead off choice especially when you consider that he's Argentinean.

After our brief exploration of the city Charisse announced that it was time to go to the zoo. YES! For those of you who don't know me, I love the zoo. I love any zoo. I think they're fascinating. From their layout to the animals to the people who go to the zoo. I could spend hours...days even...in zoos. The San Diego Zoo is widely cited as the creme de la creme of zoos. It's so elite that my zoo pass doesn't even work there. There are no words to describe how excited I was to go to the San Diego Zoo.

The most surprising thing about the zoo is how hidden away it is. For such a famous zoo, it's tucked back behind a middle school with an free parking lot out front (Philadelphia charges 12 bucks for parking). We bought tickets and discover that with our (really expensive, makes up for the free parking) admission, we also have access to the zoo bus and skyride. Aw crap, that sounds like a fancy word for ski lift. I really hate ski lifts.

That ski lift was the first thing we did once inside the park, because otherwise we were going to have to hoof it across the park to see the elephants. That's how big the park is, you need sky transportation to cross it. Our jaws dropped at the sheer size of this park as we flew over it. It was clear that we were not going to get to see everything and that we needed a plan. Basically the extent of our plan was elephants...pandas....whatever is in between.

We crash landed (almost literally, they need a better descent plan for those things) at the station and rounded the corner to the elephants. Their elephant enclosure was a thing of beauty. The Philadelphia Zoo recently sent their elephants away because of the size of their own enclosure. It was for lack of better words, terrible (I loved it, but that's besides the point). This enclosure had plenty of space, trees with barrels of hay hanging from it and a giant indoor area. All in all I believe they had 13 elephants. 13! Fantastic! The elephants seemed generally happy as well, chomping away on hay and playing with their toys.

After staring at the elephants for awhile we began to explore the zoo. The San Diego Zoo suffers from the same fundamental flaw as the National Zoo and that is that it is built on a hill. Walking it is murder. As a result even if it were a smaller walkable distance, the hills would destroy you. Getting to the monkey exhibit involves an elaborate system of escalators. Once at the monkeys we made a bee line for the gorillas. A gorilla exhibit can either be incredibly boring, with the gorillas hiding or sleeping, or the most entertaining thing in the world if the animals are doing something (anything).

At first glance there were no gorillas, then as if scheduled for an appearance, one came out and went through a series of poses. He even sat on a rock and turned his head from side to side as if to say "let me give you my good side". I swear I saw him look at his watch before leaving 5 minutes later. I think these might be trained animals.

After the gorilla we wandered over to the chimpanzees. Again after a few minutes of staring a giant chimp emerged from somewhere, sat on a rock, and posed before leaving again after his posing time was up. This zoo is filled with professionals.

Making out way out of the monkey exhibit was rough but we eventually made our way down to the pandas. The National Zoo panda always looks sort of sad and depressed but these pandas were having a lovely time chomping away on bamboo and posing for pictures. I think it was because we were told to keep our voices down. They don't tell you that at the National Zoo and I think that makes a difference. Clearly I am an expert on these things so you should listen to me.

We left the panda exhibit and swung by the sun bears. Chiz was sad that we hadn't seen any bears at Yellowstone or Yosemite so the sun bears were a bit of a compromise. They were fantastic. The exhibit consisted of one exhausted mother and two cubs with endless energy. We watched as they raced up tree limbs and slid down waterfalls. Fabulous.

After the sun bears we decided to leave. Unfortunately we were in the exact middle of the zoo and had no idea how to get out. After following the maze of paths we stumbled upon the exit and were able to beat the exiting mass out of the park. The San Diego Zoo is fantastic, but incredibly overwhelming. It's great to visit, but I'm sticking with my allegiance to the Philly Zoo.

Charisse drove us over to the beach where we met up with her sister to watch the sunset and get some fish tacos (or as they called them, feesh tacas). The beach was alive with surfers and pot heads all with nothing better to do with their lives. I would judge them, but I had nothing better to do with my life either. We had seen a bunch of sunsets on this trip, but it was still mindblowing to see the sun gradually drift below the horizon, leaving a trail of pink and orange.

The bar where we got feesh tacas was right on the beach. The place was packed and people were circling the bar like vultures waiting for people to get up from their tables. We almost got into a fight with a group of people over a table before we noticed a better table in the corner. The tacos were incredible. One was grilled mahi mahi and the other....I forget, but it was fantastic. San Diego was really winning me over. The carefree lifestyle of watching the sunset then chowing down on fish tacos was one that I could get used to.

Charisse was ready for more fun after dinner while Chiz and I were ready to crash. After discussing multiple options we decided on cupcakes in the city's Gaslight District. This would have been great, except finding a parking space was like finding a needle in a haystack. We finally found a spot...right as the cupcake store locked it's door. That's how cupcakes in the Gaslight District turned into rice krispie treats back at Charisse's apartment. That sounds perfect to me.

We stopped at the grocery store on the way home where the checkout lady was appalled to learn that we didn't have a value card for the supermarket. Rather than type in her own number as is the protocol at most supermarkets, she asked the young gentleman behind us if he'd like to give us his number to use. Oh, I see what you did there. The check out woman tried to hook us up. Touche, my friend, touche. He didn't have his card so he had to use his phone number. That's right, we got his digits.

The night ended with delicious rice krispie treats, youtube videos, and general sleepover fun. At one point I had to run out to the car to grab a sweatshirt and was greeted with five cop cars and a man watching the action who gave me a quick "You're gonna wanna go back to your apartment" look. I decided the sweatshirt could wait and went back to Charisse's apartment...and locked the door behind me.

We had a long drive to Arizona ahead of us in the morning, but Charisse wouldn't let us leave until we had pancakes at the Hash House. We are ALL for pancakes, so we eagerly agreed. As we drove there Charisse told us that "we should probably only order two pancakes for the three of us". Wait...what? We usually are good for three pancakes each. What sort of super pancakes are these?

Pizza sized pancakes, that's what. Legit pancakes the size of pizzas. Out of control. Even more out of control were the flavors, we got banana and brown sugar and butterscotch almond. WOW! It was an explosion of flavor in my mouth. It was almost overwhelming. Actually no, it was overwhelming. It was so delicious yet only after the fact can I realize how much I enjoyed it. At the time eating that pancake was a mission that I had to accomplish. I failed on that mission and was thus disappointed. Now...I want another one, immediately.

With our stomachs full of pancakes we hit the road. As San Diego was the half way point, we were officially heading home....by way of the entire southern United States. San Diego was fantastic. Beautiful, comfortable, and filled with fantastic people. While I found the rest of California a bit overwhelming....I could definitely see myself in San Diego.

God I hate ski lifts
Elephants!
Charisse and Ch'nel with the elephants
Posing
Posing
These guys are pros
San Diego Surfers
Glorious

PS. It's my birthday. Do whatever you please with that piece of information.

With a Dream and a Cardigan

I am SO behind on blog entries. We're moving much faster than we were on the outward bound trip. As a result we usually arrive at our destination at night and I crawl into bed mumbling "I'll blog in the morning". Then we wake up about a half hour before check out at whatever place we're at and I have to run to get into the shower and packed up in order to check out with three minutes left before the 10 dollar punishment kicks in. Actually this only describes last night/this morning...but it works! I promise to work harder.

Yosemite was awesome, we've already covered this, but as with all aspects of the trip we had to move on. Not before I got a morning swim in, did my laundry and ate one of every item at the free breakfast buffet (and stuffed 3 oranges in my purse). We finally wrenched ourselves away from our beloved Shilo and hit the road for Los Angeles, which I expected to be nothing less than as described in Miley Cyrus' "Party in the U.S.A".

The trip to LA was fairly boring. Nothing too exciting, just lots of suburban sprawl and orange groves. You know you've hit LA when you suddenly stop moving. I have heard scores and scores about LA's traffic....it's all true. It's worse that what you hear, it is a 24/7 parking lot that occasionally turns into a NASCAR race. Even at 2pm on a Sunday. It's my idea of hell.

Actually no, my idea of hell involves roller coasters, crowds, people jumping out at you dressed in scary outfits and ridiculously overpriced tickets to experience this. Which is why I was distressed when we called our friend Ryan from the traffic mess and he told us to meet him at Knotts Berry Farm for their version of Fright Fest. Great. Ryan was also our ticket to our hotel room that night, so without Ryan we couldn't do squat. Fantastic. LA, you're not off to a good start.

We made our way down towards Knotts (apparently America's first theme park?) and were earlier than we had told Ryan. We were also famished, so we pulled off at the first restaurant we saw, Outback Steakhouse. What a terrible restaurant. I've never eaten at an Outback before but their food is so boring. It just sort of sits on your plate. Congratulations Outback, you become the first food establishment to get a negative review on this blog. That's really hard to accomplish.

We finished our dinner and headed over to Knotts Berry Farm with the other 30,000 cars. Apparently this is a big deal in the world of amusement park fright fests. I wouldn't know...I hate scary things and roller coasters, these are not stats that I keep track of. After we managed to navigate the sea of pierced high schoolers and angry cops we made it to a parking lot that demanded 15 dollars to park there. Apparently this was the "premium" lot. If we wanted to turn around the regular lots were only 12 dollars. As this is California and gas costs as much as my house, we decided that we would actually lose money in trying to find the regular lot and shelled out the dough.

We made it to ticket booth where we discovered that tickets cost as much as my house, car and first born child put together. On top of that we had to wait...forever...in a long line. Then once we got our tickets we were going to have to wait even more just to get in. We had almost made it to the front of the line when Ryan called to tell us that he had a coupon for cheaper tickets. So we stepped out of the line, met Ryan, then go back into the end of the line. Great.

I need to cut this short if I want this blog to end up being less than novel length. Long story short, it was not hell. Anytime with Ryan is guaranteed fun. The place was so crowded that you were able to identify where actors were hiding, waiting to jump out at you. My favorite was the guy that jumped out, or should I say strolled out, looked at us and said "How are you? Having fun? Good, please continue". It was right out of David Sedaris's "Santaland Diaries" (read it! read it now!).

Eventually Ryan's jetlag kicked in, our carlag kicked in, and Ryan's friend began wandering off to stare at "food on sticks". We stopped in front of a show, only to discover one of the most racist and homophobic performances I've ever seen. We were all kind of in awe as the performers made numerous remarks about sex acts between popular movie characters and the like. When an angel wearing a thong made a Holocaust joke we decided it was time to go.

We made our way out to Pasadena with Ryan where we dropped our stuff off in his sweet hotel room. Ryan was in California on business and thus had a kickass Embassy Suites room with a flat screen tv, internet and free breakfast. It was glorious.

The next day we took our time getting up. Ryan didn't have to do any work until later that afternoon so we slept in and watched some football. I think this was my favorite thing about the West Coast. When I woke up at 10, all I had to do was turn the tv on and the Patriots were playing. Waking up to Tom Brady is always great.

Eventually we were able to rally and move a couple of yards down the street to the Olive Garden for soup, salad and breadsticks. Has there ever been a better lunch deal? Outback, take note. You may have noticed that our meal options so far have been chains, something we've tried to avoid. You can't avoid it in LA. I don't care what people say about LA's restaurant culture...chain restaurants are unavoidable on the outskirts of the city. I guess you could say the same about New Jersey, but we'll just move on.

Ryan had to go do some work after lunch, so I went to meet up with my friend/former roommate Shannon who now lives in LA. Shannon arrived in her shiny new car with a list of places we needed to go. I like that, I like people who plan my trips for me. And so we were off. First stop was the Hollywood sign. Shannon is relatively new to the city and thus still unfamiliar with the mess that is the freeway system. After a couple of tries we made it to the right street and were rewarded with a great view of the sign. While really nothing special, it does make you feel giddy when you see it. I imagine it's similar to west coasters seeing the Statue of Liberty or Empire State Building. It's something that you've associated with television or pictures for so long that to actually see it is cool.

We continued on along on our tour of LA. Shannon drove me by her apartment and supermarket before we reached the La Brea tarpits. While not originally on our destination list, I made her stop. I've wanted to see these ever since My Girl 2, when Dude from the Babysitters Club Movie pretends to throw Girl from Golddiggers:The Secret of Bear Moutain's ring (The one Macauley Culkin gave her in the first movie before dying of bee stings) into them. I'm not joking, that scene has stuck with me over the years, and I was anxious to see the site of it.

They were cool. I mean, how could a giant pit of tar with a fiberglass model of a mammoth getting sucked into it while her child mammoth screams out in sorrow not be cool. I was a little disappointed that the fence around them was so high. I know there are obvious reasons for why it's there, but you really couldn't get a view of the pit. I also thought that there were actual animal remains still in the pits, but unfortunately only fiber glass models.

We returned to the car with the intention of going to Santa Monica for dinner. While close in distance, remember, this is LA. On the way we drove through Beverly Hills, where I got to see Rodeo Drive. I took the time that we were at a traffic light to recount the scene in D2: The Mighty Ducks where a group of Ducks convinces a store owner that one of them was Aaron Spellings nephew and are able to get into one of the fancy stores for a private show. Shannon did not seem interested and counteracted with the time she thought she saw Chuck Norris. I think I won that battle. D2 always wins. Quack. I digress. After going through Beverly Hills we passed through a Turkish protest before eventually making our way into Santa Monica.

We reached the beach just in time for sunset. It was really great to watch the sun set over the Pacific. California does have that all over the East Coast. The Pacific sunset is spectacular. We explored the pier and surrounding area for awhile before getting dinner at a (to my knowledge) non-chain Greek restaurant. Very good. Even better was after dinner when Shannon introduced me to Coffee Bean. Wow. That's some good stuff. It is a very good thing we don't have those on the East Coast or my money would be gone.

It was getting late and I didn't want to keep Ryan and Chiz waiting at the hotel so Shannon took me back. Unfortunately this wasn't as easy as it should have been. At this point I feel obligated to preface this story (specifically to my parents) with the fact that I am fine and have been fine for over a week now. Just before we were going to exit the freeway for another freeway towards Pasadena, we noticed the car in front of us clip a piece of debris that had been on the road. The debris flew through the air and before we had time to react slammed into us and lodged itself under Shannon's car. The sound of metal scraping pavement filled the car and when I looked out my window I saw sparks flying up. Adreneline kicked in and we were able to guide the car to the side of the road and call AAA without panicking. The AAA woman sounded mildly panicked, however, when I told her what had happened and she set to work trying to calm me down. Apparently she seemed to think I should be freaking out. I was fine, I just wanted to get off the freeway. Apparently "large piece of debris stuck under car" "out of towner on freeway" and "sparks" are all key words you should use when dealing with AAA because they had a tow truck to us within 10 minutes.

Or so we thought. The tow truck driver picked us up, loaded the car onto the truck and had us off of the freeway in no time. He took us to a shop near Shannon's and offered to drive us down the street to her apartment so we wouldn't have to walk alone at night. Great! This is fantastic! I've never had anything dealt with so fast. While we're in the truck, however, my phone rings. It's AAA. They're on the freeway and can't find us. Wait, what!?!?!? Who the hell's truck am I in. My heart starts racing. All I can think is that some crazy guy bought himself a truck and searches the highway every night for stranded girls. oh my god. Panic. I can hear my voice trembling as I try to figure this out. "Who is this guy" I ask the AAA man on the phone. He sounds concerned, as all Los Angeles AAA people are it seems, "I don't know" he responds. "How did he get our information?!?!?" "Your guess is as good as mine". NOT HELPING AAA MAN! After a tense 5 minutes of me freaking out demanding to know who the hell the driver was and what the hell was going on, we reach Shannon's apartment. While it becomes clear that he doesn't intend to kill us and dump our bodies in a dark alley, I'm still panicking and dialing Ryan every minute to make sure he's on his way to pick me up. Apparently it is popular amongst freelance tow truck drivers to intercept AAA calls. I'm filing this under "Things I Did Not Know About Before This Trip That Terrify Me Now". I think the fact that a freelance tow truck driver might intercept my call now freaks me out more than the idea of getting into car trouble. Now that my mother has had a heart attack, let me reiterate: I am fine and I now know what to watch out for when calling AAA.

Ryan and Ch'nel were quick to arrive at Shannon's apartment albeit confused by my numerous rambling messages about "Debris....just....we hit debris". They got me back to Pasadena where I was able to get to bed, somehow shaking off the most disturbing portion of this trip.

Ryan had to work all day the next day, so Ch'nel and I were on our own. We woke up a little before 8 in order to put in a call for standby tickets to the Ellen show. After that all we could do was wait for Ellen to call us. We decided that our waiting time would be best spent in Hollywood...mainly because it was the only thing that we could think to do in LA. I know it's a big city with lots to do...but we're really not creative. We strolled up and down the Walk of Fame. Ch'nel took pictures of stars of people that she likes, I took pictures of Celine Dion and Ricky Martin. Along the Walk of Fame we stopped at the Kodak Theater (home of the Oscars) and Grauman's Chinese Theater. Grauman's was very cool, especially the handprints of really old Hollywood stars like Cary Grant and Marilyn Monroe.

After exploring Hollywood we decided that since if we did get standby tickets to Ellen we would have to get out to Burbank ASAP, we might as well go and take the studio tour there. We got there only to discover that tickets were 40+ dollars. After the Knotts Berry Farm incident, we just couldn't afford that. By that point if Ellen was going to call then she would have called so dejected we left Burbank and headed for the Getty Center. Even more rejection met us there when we discovered that the Getty Center is closed on Mondays. Man, we are not doing well in LA! We searched our pamphlets and discovered that the Getty Villa is not closed on Mondays, however you need reservations to go.

Ch'nel finagled reservations while I drove up the coast to the villa. The Getty Villa was the original home of John Paul Getty and his art collection. While the Getty Center now hosts most of the art work, the Getty Villa has it's own collections specializing in antiquities. Also, it's a pretty house. Once there we were met by what can only be described as the most enthusiastic volunteers ever. They navigated us up a hill and into a parking garage with such excitement that I wondered if we had actually accidentally entered Disneyland. Once at the villa we were again eagerly directed towards the tour table and told to sign up for the special collections tour that was leaving in 5 minutes. Well, why not!

This was an excellent decision, one I highly recommend, as we got an hour long tour of four pieces led by a museum guide. With only four pieces we learned a lot about sarcophagi, mosaics, frescos and tera cotta sculptures. I felt like I was back in school at times as we were expected to participate and ask questions. Our guide asked what we thought about the bull in the mosaic and I volunteered that I thought it represented the second athlete that was also depicted in the piece. That was not the right answer and I felt the familiar sting of "well that's an interesting idea...what are some other thoughts". Ouch, I forgot how much failure hurts. It was like being back at Bryn Mawr. Luckily I rebounded when I asked about it's creation and whether it was created separately and then installed as a floor tile or created right on the floor. That was a "great question!" apparently. Score one for my pride.

After the tour we explored the grounds a little more, but rush hour was quickly approaching and if normal traffic in LA is terrible, I didn't even want to think about rush hour traffic.

We made it back to Pasadena in relatively good shape. We definitely got caught in rush hour traffic and it definitely wasn't pretty. I was hungry and had a headache and couldn't decide whether I wanted to sleep or eat. We chose eat, and decided that dinner would be our first In-N-Out burger ever. In-N-Out had been hyped up to me as the greatest thing I would ever eat. I had high expectations, thats for sure. The burger was very good. Much better quality than a fast food burger, but the fries were awful. They were soggy to the point that they tasted more like mashed potatoes than french fries. Not the ideal first In-N-Out experience, but it wasn't awful.

We returned to the hotel to continue with our lazy bum lifestyle of television watching and t-shirt decorating. After we determined that there was nothing on tv we were able to get Ryan hooked on www.sporcle.com (go now!), aka the greatest website on the internet (after this blog). We spent the next few hours listing Disney villains and European capitals that begin with the letter F. It was glorious. Eventually even the easy lists were stumping us and we had to go to bed.

My time in LA was rocky. It had great points, but also terrible points. Build yourself a nice public transportation system, LA, and I'll be back.

Pictures are refusing to upload. Will try again tomorrow.

The Spirit of Yosemite

Wow, we're running behind on entries. I have to step my game up. I believe we're on Yosemite...correct me if I'm wrong. I'm not.

Our first night at the Shilo Inn was fantastic, as to be expected. We woke up, enjoyed the free breakfast that we've become accustomed to and eventually made our way towards the park. The hotel was only about 14 miles from the park, but the road there was long and twisty. This was becoming a recurring theme in the area. This time we had the added fun of avoiding RVs...some of which even had a car trailing behind them, which was just fantastic.

We made it to the park in one piece by the grace of God and discovered that really the road didn't change once you got inside the park. It just went higher...and higher. So up we climbed, higher and higher, twisting in and out and in and out, around the mountain. Some cars chose to take the road painstakingly slow, leading to frustration when you got caught behind them. Other cars chose the "If I go fast enough I won't have time to freak out about the GIANT DROP on the other side of my car". These cars were almost always going into the opposite direction, which was fun when you rounded a twisted corner to see a giant Ford truck flying at you. Really, good fun. Just when you thought you've had enough fun dodging missles disguised as cars, you would run into a trucker who decided to take the route through Yosemite this time in order to get a change of scenery. So add in a couple of Kenworths hauling hogs as well (ok, sans hogs, but still...).

While I joke about the traffic situation of Yosemite, it is seriously scary. At one point we got caught in a traffic jam about 6,000 feet in the air. After stalling for about 5 minutes I put the car in park and went up to ask the people in front of us what had happened. The woman told me with a grave face that a car had tipped off of the road and gone down the side of the mountain. That was a sobering enough thought to make you drive 10 miles below the speed limit for the rest of your life/avoid all roads 6,000 feet up that lack barriers.

Now that I've terrified everyone, I have to tell the truth. Eventually the jam got moving again and we passed a truck that had said car loaded into it. A. They were able to recover the car on top of the mountain and B. I've seen worse damage from a car running into a lamppost, so clearly Jesus, Zeus and any other deity you please must have been in that car and guided it straight into a tree rather than allowing it to plummet to the valley floor. Still, lesson learned, cars are not attached to the road via magnets or super glue.

After that unfortunate delay we were able to continue on to the main spectacle of Yosemite. I don't know if this spectacle has a name, but it looks like this.

Tourist included. A good rule of the National Parks is if it's a famous vista, your own personal picture is going to have a tourist in it.

It's impressive. The story of Yosemites beginning notes that explorers going West stumbled upon this vista and were blown away. I have seen this image plenty of times before on assorted Veterans Association and SPCA calendars but it still takes your breath away to see it in person. The sheer size of El Capitan (the mass of rock on the left) is impressive on it's own, but couples with the sharp degree of the canyon and the other rock formations it's truly a sight to be seen. Also awesome, the Von Trapp Family reunions that take place there.

They were German and they were singing

The National Parks are great, as I assume the Ken Burns documentary has been telling you. I haven't seen it yet, I've been too busy actually going to the parks. They're great, but my major complaint with each of them is how much driving you have to do. There are pull offs for you to stop and snap some pictures, but the for the most part the only parking is at the visitor centers. As a result you really have to keep driving. There are limited opportunities to stop and go for a walk, unless you're super hardcore and plan on going for an all day hike. So we kept driving, around more mountains, dodging people with cameras jumping into the road the whole time.

Once we reached the visitors center I jumped out to go get a stamp for my National Parks Passport. We weren't planning on staying too long so Chiz stayed behind in the car. I started walking towards the center and discovered that this building was only the restroom, the actual center was a half mile walk away. I really wanted my stamp so I kept walking. 10 minutes later I reached the center, stamped my passport and took a quick look around. It was really, really cool. There were a lot of information and displays that I wanted to spend time digesting. Unfortunately I had left Chiz baking in a parking lot a half mile away. My phone is pretty terrible and never gets services anywhere in the wilderness so I couldn't call her. My only choice was to walk back to the car, inform her of the awesomeness, then walk back to take it all in.

Luckily I managed to convince Ch'nel that "it looks really cool" without having to provide too much information on what exactly was there. We trekked back and were rewarded with one of the best visitor center displays I've ever seen. It wasn't particularly elaborate, but it easily blended the natural history of Yosemite with it's history as a National Park. Very interesting, very cool. We capped it off with a viewing of Spirit of Yosemite, a half hour film in which Yosemite clearly spent a lot of money to get awesome shots of the park. Relaxing, but also strange as we were already in the park...we could see everything just by walking outside. The narration of the film kept stressing the spirit of Yosemite. The unknown spiritual force that people seem to experience within the park. I wrote it off as hogwash, but we'll get back to that in a few paragraphs.

After absorbing every single piece of information about Yosemite that we could, we set out to find some lunch. At Yosemite's sandwich shop I quickly decided on the number 1, a ham sandwich. I really can't handle choices and when faced with a first option that I enjoy I tend to just stop there and call it a win. Ch'nel unfortunately struggled between the turkey sandwich and the tuna salad. She then made the mistake of voicing this struggle to the sandwich girl who suggested a compromise of the chicken waldorf. While this ended up being a good compromise as Ch'nel was pleased with it....that is not a compromise. Turkey+tuna salad does not equal chicken waldorf. Chicken waldorf, however, has now become a running joke as a third option to all decisions.

With both our minds and our stomachs properly fed we were able to head back to the trail. We wanted to be up at Glacier Point by 5:15 for the sunset ranger lecture. By this point it was about 3:30 but we had no way of judging how long it would take to get up to the point. We had planned on exploring another part of the park but by the time we got back out to the main road we figured it would be better to just head further up the mountain.

This was a good plan because they were doing roadwork on the road leading up to the point, so we ended up sitting in a traffic jam for a half hour while waiting for the workers to clean up. Following this traffic jam was another half hour of twisty roads and stomach churning drops before we finally reached the top of the mountain. There we parked and joined the masses heading over to wait for the sun to set over the Sierra Nevada, apparently quite a beautiful sight. It was getting cold by this point, but we've been trying to see sunsets everywhere on this trip and for some reason we keep missing them. We were staying until that sun went down.

While we waited we stared 8,000 feet or so down into the canyon. It was a long drop. Two women next to me mentioned how they wished someone would take their picture so being the good person that I am I eagerly volunteered to do it. Before I knew it one of the women was leading me to a spot that she had picked out for the picture while her partner scampered over the restraining fence and onto a rock that was jutting out into the canyon...again, 8,000 feet up. After handing me the camera she herself jumped the fence and walked out there. My stomach dropped. I was sure that one was going to fall and I was going to take a picture of a woman plummeting to her death. I flashed back to high school and was convinced that I was going to get in trouble for condoning this act, that a park ranger was going to kick me out for encouraging their recklessness. As quickly as possible I snapped their picture, returned the camera and ran to the opposite side of the point to get as far away from them and their crazy as possible.

At 5:15 we were greeted by Ranger Dick. A spirited veteran ranger who has lived at Glacier Point for 23 years, he was very knowledgeable of the area. He began his lecture by pointing out a helicopter down in the valley that was at the moment rescuing a guy. He then went off on a rant about how that guy was a fool for only eating a banana before going on a hike. We were then encouraged to watch and laugh as the helicopter rescued him from his hike and flew him off of the mountain. I nearly fainted when I saw that the poor guy, who was apparently already in quite a bit of pain, was rescued by being placed on a stretcher dangling 150 feet below the helicopter and a couple hundred feet above the ground. I don't think I'd make it if I was ever in a situation where I'd need to be rescued via helicopter. That's effing scary.

The rest of Ranger Dick's lecture was lost in the rapidly approaching sunset. Standing on that mountain, with 8,000 feet of nothingness separating me and the ground and the dusty rose sky in front of me, I felt both completely out of control of my life but at the same time positive that at that moment, for that period of time, there was no other place in the world that I was supposed to be. I'm not sure if I've ever had that feeling before. It was surreal. I was but a speck on the Earth's enormous surface. While physically I was occupying a tiny speck of the park, I felt like my soul (I guess? I really don't want to use the word soul, too cliche, but we're going to have to go with it) had filled up the entire canyon. At that moment I had fully taken in the aura of the mountain and allowed myself to become part of it. The damn spirit of Yosemite had gotten to me.

There is a line that has often been quoted to me from a The Perks of Being a Wallflower, a book that I have not read so I have no idea what the context of the line is. But apparently at one point a character says "and in that moment I swear we were infinite". Again, I've never read this book but as I stood there, connecting with nature in a way my Quaker education would really be proud of me for, that line ran through my head and it is truly the best way to describe that moment. I felt infinite.

All spiritual awakenings must end, however, especially when you realize that the sun setting means it's now dark. This wouldn't be an issue, except we were on top of a mountain and the only way to get down was to drive through hairpin turns and down steep declines all while avoiding bears. If you thought it was a blast going up the mountain in daylight, going down in darkness was even better.

We made it back to the Shilo in one piece, although my nerves were figuratively torn to shreds. Luckily, the Shilo is a little piece of heaven and offered a heated pool and a hot tub. And so a day of inner reflection ended with a relaxing moonlit swim and soak. Have I recommended the Shilo Inns enough? Because I am considering just moving into one.

I've Never Walked So Much

When I look back on our time in San Francisco I will think of two things, Della Reese's ridiculous hair-do on Touched By an Angel, and how much walking we did.

Our hosts, Amber and Kirsten, had received three disks of Touched By an Angel which we gladly watched our first night in the Bay Area. After a meal of macaroni and cheese and a long walk up to Berkeley for frozen yogurt we crashed out in their living room to contemplate Della's hair and Amber and Kirsten's love for angel of death, John Dye.

A night of TBA led to a very peaceful night of sleep which was good because our next day was to be spent seeing all of San Francisco that we could squeeze in. We woke up to Sneaky, the neighbors cat, at the porch door. Sneaky is apparently a regular at the Amber/Kirsten household and managed to con her way in with her cuteness. Once inside she began to reek havoic by walking across computer keyboards and kneading your leg until you gave her love. Amber told us to give in, as ignoring her only leads to the cat freaking out. Well then.

After ridding the apartment of Sneaky, we decided it was time to get our act together and head into the city. Amber assured us that the BART, the Bay Area Rapid Transport system, had a great website that would let us know everything we needed to know about getting where we wanted to be. After settling on a starting point of Fishermans Wharf the BART website told us that we should get off at the Civic Center stop. Easy as pie! We took the bus to the BART station (the first of many donations to the Bay Area public transportation) and were on our way to a day of fun.

After arriving in the city we set off walking in what we thought was the right direction towards Fisherman's Wharf. It soon became clear that we were walking in the wrong direction and when we asked for help we discovered we were no where near our destination. Great. Strike one, BART. Instead we would have to take a streetcar up the street and then across town to the wharf. More money pumped into public transportation.

The streetcars I believe were refurbished old streetcars designed to appeal to everyone's love for things from the past. They were fine, but I'm pretty sure we could have walked faster. We knew we were getting close when the patrons on board started to look less like locals and more like German people. Tourist heaven couldn't be far away.

We got off of the streetcar at Pier 39, which is really just a condensed version of the Jersey Shore...with sea lions. So many sea lions. There were hundreds of them perched on floating docks sunning themselves. Every now and then a live wire of a sea lion would jump out of the water right on top of the pile of sleeping sea lion. This would result in angry bellows and fights that really could have kept me amused all day. But no! We had to move on.

We walked up a few blocks from the pier to Ghirardelli Square, home of the famous chocolate. We were told that we had to have a hot fudge sundae there, it wasn't even an option. I'm not a huge hot fudge fan. I spent a good portion of my life claiming I didn't like chocolate and am only within the past few years discovering certain kinds of chocolate that I enjoy. Nonetheless, when in Rome.

Wow, maybe it was the fact that I hadn't had lunch yet and was starving but when that sundae arrived I dove into it like a pool on a hot day (I'm terrible at similes, humor me.) Ch'nel had barely had three bites of hers before I had drained mine. I think this is because Chiz spent a good portion of time taking pictures of her sundae, attracting the attention of the table next to us who thought she had some super camera because it took such good photos.

Once filled up with dairy we rolled ourselves out of the ice cream parlor and headed for the Golden Gate Bridge. Are these two things near each other? It sure looks like they are on the map...then you remember that San Francisco has hills. Lots of them. We made our way down to the Bay and found ourselves in without a doubt the richest neighborhood I've ever been in. Remember, I went to school in Bryn Mawr, PA. This neighborhood made Bryn Mawr look like Gary, IN. Giant, meticulously cared for houses lined the streets. Each had big picture windows overlooking the bay showing off grand pianos and giant chandeliers. I could definitely live here.

We made it to the bridge entrance and had every intention of walking across it. We started up the walk way and watched as the bridge got further and further away. It seemed like it jumped back ten feet with every step we took. The approach the bridge twists it's way up to the actual bridge...which is over a mile long. About a half mile into it we decided it just wasn't worth it and walked back down to the Palace of Fine Arts. The Palace was built for the 1915 Worlds Fair and is really quite spectacular. I have a secret love for all things Worlds Fair related and the peaceful pondside Palace (intentional alliteration! +5 points!) provided a nice break to the day.

But breaks are for the weak, there was so much more to see! We set off back into the city for Lombard Street, the really twisty street. You know exactly the one I'm talking about. The section that twists is in response to the really steep grade of the hill which cars couldn't handle back in the day. It's cool, however we chose to walk up the otherside of the hill to see it from the top. Fresh off of our 8 mile trip into the mountains we were sure that this would be a breeze. Lies. I gasped my way to the top. My shirt was soaked in sweat and ankles ached from the sharp angle that they were forced to walk at. It was a terrible idea.

At the top we took a plethora of pictures before doing the creme de la creme of San Francisco tourist options, riding a cable car. We caught the car at the top of the hill and paid the five dollar fee (seriously San Francisco, I expect trains made of gold after all of the money you took from me for transportation). Riding a cable car is an absolutely awful affair. These things are not reproductions but rather old pieces of equiptment. They shake and stutter as they race down the hills. Meanwhile you're crammed into the car with dozens of tourists who smell rancid (I include myself in this statement after than hike up the hill). As if that wasn't enough, there had to be that one "artist" who had to take "photographs" and refused to move from her spot to allow people to better fit in the car. As you rocket down the hills and whip around corners you have but a tiny piece of bar or a strap of leather to hold on to...if you're lucky...so you're forced to find your center of gravity and focus all of your energy on making sure that you stay on your feet. Finally the ride ends and you stumble out mumbling about how Candace Cameron made it look so much more simple and fun during the opening credits of Full House.

We were back near Civic Center but weren't ready to head back yet, so we caught the street car again (goodbye two more dollars) in the opposite direction down to the Castro district. The Castro district is San Francisco's LGBT neighborhood and one of the most famous LGBT neighborhoods in the world. A must see no matter what your sexuality. We were tired by this point and didn't stay long, but did stop in a bookshop that sold books questioning dead celebrities sexuality. Very entertaining.

As we walked back towards the BART station we realized we were near an ice cream shop that our friend Suzette had recommended. Our sundaes from earlier still sat in our stomachs but upon seeing the flavor list outside the shop I was so intrigued that I knew I had to stop. Ch'nel originally declined but after tasting my delicious roasted banana and brown sugar ice cream combo she raced in to get one of her own. For those of you keeping track, we spent all of our money in San Francisco on ice cream and transportation.

Our stomachs were rapidly extending and our feet were threatening to melt into the sidewalk so we decided it was time to head back to Amber and Kirsten's. We caught the BART and spent the 30 minute ride back fighting off the urge to pass out right there. We got out of the train station and couldn't remember where to pick up the bus back, plus we had been completely drained of one dollar bills by other transport options, so we embarked on the half hour trip back to our temporary home. It seemed so much longer than it had the night before but we eventually made it. There Kirsten was waiting for us with delicious beer (Haywire Hefewizen...try it, it's fantastic) and Young Frankenstein. More importantly...a sofa. Amber arrived home to find us sprawled out on her futon sofa (is that what I'm supposed to call it? I got in trouble for calling it a futon) and suggested that we order sushi from a place called Nude Sushi. After being assured that it would be both delicious and delivered by a hipster I agreed.

This had actually been suggested earlier in the day and Ch'nel had already perused their website and decided on multiple meal options. I logged onto NudeSushi.com and discovered that that was NOT their website. For future reference or for those in the Bay Area, it's getnudesushi.com. I repeat, it is not nudesushi.com.

Our sushi was in fact delivered by a hipster, leading Amber to wonder if Nude Sushi is completely run by white people. I don't care, it was fantastic. It could be run by a herd of wild buffalo from Yellowstone for all I care. We finished the night off with, what else, Touched By an Angel, specifically a fantastic Halloween episode that took place in Pennington, NJ. Always excellent.

We woke up the next day hoping to get on the road to Yosemite relatively early. We were delayed by the unfortunate lack of turn signals (see previous entry) however. Instead of heading out to Yosemite, our day began with phone calls to area Volvo dealers hoping to find someone to fix the car. After sitting on hold and being denied from hoity toity dealers, Bob's Berkeley Volvo and Toyota specialists agreed to give it a look. There's a plug for Bob. We left our stuff at Amber's and drove the car the two miles to Bob. Bob's front desk minion assured us that it shouldn't be too big of a problem to fix, no more than an hour, and that he would probably be able to get to it by late morning. Awesome. With a little bit of time to kill Chiz and I set off to find a place to get breakfast. Unfortunately we drove two miles away from town center...which was already kinda far from Amber's place to begin with. After walking through blocks and blocks of residential areas we found a breakfast place with pancakes...really our only need in life.

Two cups of coffee and three blueberry pancakes later there was still no word on the car, so we kept walking towards Berkeley. We wanted to look at t-shirts and Amber had suggested a place called "T-Shirt Orgy" so we made that our official destination. The problem with this is that it was actually PAST the main street of Berkeley, so it meant even MORE walking. This is on top of our incredibly sore legs, reminders of our treks up the hills of San Fran. After meticulously examining every t-shirt we still hadn't heard anything from Bob's, so onward we went. By this point we were plain pooped so we just crashed at a coffee shop and decided to wait it out. The baristas were undeniably pissed at us as we crashed there for at least two and half hours meanwhile buying only one drink each (but boy did we take advantage of that free water pitcher!).

Eventually I called Bob's to check in and after describing my car the guy on the other end responded with "OH! The one with the turn signal problem.....yeahhhhhhh...um....let me get Chris". Oh crap, he had the same tone in his voice that the Veternarians office technician had when she was trying to figure out how to tell me that my rabbit had died while I left it in their care (sorry...unexpected morbid comment). That can't be good. Chris got on the phone and began describing the problem, again with a tone in his voice that this was a huge issue. He told me how much it would cost to fix (surprisingly...not...terrible? Not good by any means, but I was prepared for worse) and that it could take up to an hour to fix. There was a moment of silence while I tried to figure out why these guys were so nervous to tell me what was wrong before telling Chris to go ahead and fix it. Chris had clearly been holding his breath as he let out a sigh of relief and said "alright, I'll get right on it!". I get the impression that these guys get yelled at a lot. He was definitely waiting for me to start yelling.

Even though they said it would be an hour, we assumed they meant two and gave them another hour before beginning the hour long walk back to the shop. We were right as they were just finishing up our paperwork when we walked in. As soon as we came in a bunch of the mechanics came into the lobby with big smiles on their faces. "So tell us about the road trip!" one of them said. "Yea!" another piped in "Where's the next stop!". The rare New Jersey car in the shop had clearly stirred up interest and everyone was eager to hear all about it. I felt popular.

We said goodbye to Bob's guys (I don't think we ever actually met Bob) and hit the road....right in time for San Francisco traffic. After getting gas at quite possibly the biggest mess of a gas station I've ever seen we were on the road and moving at the speed of a turtle. Thank God for our new turn signals, I don't know how we would have been able to manage rush hour traffic without them.

The ride to Yosemite was only three hours, but it was three of the most harrowing hours of driving I've had on this trip. The traffic didn't break for at least an hour and a half and then we were thrown into complete darkness as we entered rural roads. One road went straight through farmland with no development, street lights or other cars around for miles. Once the sun set I could only see the twenty feet or so in front of my that my own headlights illuminated. Looking into the rearview mirror yielded only darkness. The rare other car that would drive by would almost always have it's high beams on, blinding me both figuratively with surprise as well as literally.

That was nothing, though, as the poker straight road suddenly started twisting up and down hills. I made it to a town where I checked the GPS and noticed that I was now supposed to turn onto Highway 49. I gulped, OMP had given specific warning to not drive on Highway 49. Apparently he had taken a trip down it as a child and it had left him with memories of fear from narrow roads, sharp turns and steep drops down the sides of mountains. As we TECHNICALLY had broken another one of OMPs warnings earlier in the day by staying in Oakland (Amber and Kirsten technically lived in Oakland, not Berkeley. OMP told us to never go into Oakland) I was not in the mood to tempt fate and break another warning. I also didn't seem to have choice, so I threw on the blinker and began my 25 mile trip down Highway 49.

The first 5 miles or so weren't too bad. I assumed that OMP must have taken old Highway 49 and began to relax. Maybe it was the darkness but I didn't notice any sharp drops and the turns weren't too bad. Just as I let my guard down the turns became more and more frequent. Cars with their high beams up to the highest level seemed to be whipping around them at me more and more often. It wasn't long until I noticed signs for "scenic vistas". There is one thing that I've learned on this trip and that is that scenic vistas only occur when you're 5000 feet in the air. I look to my right and realize that the darkness that covers that entire side of the road is not a different type of grass than what I'm used to but rather an infinate abyss (or steep drop). Jesus. I think ultimately the darkness helped as I had nothing to focus on other than the 20 feet in front of me. The road was more than wide enough and I had enough faith in my driving skills to know that I wasn't going to random drive off the road.

Ultimately I knew that there was a Shilo Inn waiting for me at the end of this road and when we reached it it gleamed like a lighthouse, a beacon in the dark night. We pulled in, were greeted with free fruit, coffee, cookies, popcorn (but not water! Never free water at the Shilo) and passed out for the night in a room that we could easily move into. I cannot stress this enough, always use the Shilo Inns for all of your traveling needs in the West.

Sea Lions at Pier 39
Ch'nel's sundae......my sundae....

Palace of Fine Arts
One of the pretty houses
Chiz walking up Lomard St.

Suzette's excellent ice cream suggestion