Goodbye Practicality; Hello, Dummy.

There's nothing worse than waking up with your bank statement staring you down, challenging you to make a move. I turn on the coffee pot and think. Half of my savings are invested in a volunteer trip to Kenya and I have no real job prospects in sight. Convinced that my Wells Fargo account is making mocking its mission in these early hours, I wait for the pot to fill. I've been home for a week now, and the essence of reality has revealed to be a harsh and persistent beast.

It was only a short six months ago that my life was stable and established. I was living in the heart of Baltimore, a city whose identity was juxtaposed by quaint cobble-stoned neighborhoods and reoccurring drug crimes, by incredible wealth and harsh racial inequalities. Yet everyone was so proud of their city. It was a place where people wore their high school class rings as a symbol of identity. Baltimore meant something. Between the music and the food and the sub-cultures, everyone seemed to find their perfect niche. Mine was in the cultural district of Mt. Vernon where ethnic cuisine met raging gay clubs, where microbreweries met perpetually unimpressed art students, where historic landmarks met urban life. It was a beautifully odd city and my new home.

I had moved to Baltimore on a whim after college. Three years later I had an established career as a teacher and program supervisor at a prestigious independent school. A job with benefits, faculty meetings and happy hours. I had the option of earning my Master's, applying for grants that would send me around the world, upgrading to an adult apartment with Ikea furniture! It all sounded so ideal.

But it wasn't. So just like that, my internal clock ticked down to zero ringing, "time's up!" I gave my notice, alerted my friends, and fled.

So now I'm back at home. I am living with my parents and praying that this doesn't backfire. I never meant to settle in Baltimore. I never even meant to become a teacher. It was all just a filler until I could figure out a way to do what I really wanted: to work in Africa. I can see my former coworkers watch me as I ignorantly skip off into the mirage of an African sunset. They are waving to my back, stealing sideways glances at each other, forcing on encouraging smiles. But really they're thinking...this girl is a fucking moron.

The coffee brews and I stew in my financial slump.

California, here we come!

We drove out from Portland to see the Oregon coast. We caught the first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean!

 This was a big day for Rosa! Her first time to the Pacific Ocean... The mark of her 100,000th mile...

And her first time to California. We had made it! 

The beautiful California Redwoods greeted us as we navigated their twisting paths. 

With cheers and honking horns, we had reached our final destination!
It was an amazing journey, unforgettable in so many ways.  Here's a link to our photo album! A special thanks to: 

 Joan and Jon Goldman, Helen's surrogate parents in  Baltimore for 3 years (Baltimore, MD)

Joanna and Clint, special cousin and hubbie (Annandale, VA) 

 Julie, Will and Dev, special Seely relatives (Herndon, VA) 

 Doris and Diane,  Seely Grandma and Aunt  (Catonsville, MD) 

 Jeff and Gail , dear friends from Menlo Park, Brussels, rural Virginia, and now  DC 

 Jake, Helena and Jack, the cutest little boy ever   (Chicago, IL) 

 Julie and Corey, the two best friends that anyone could ever have (Chicago, IL) 

 Jeff Dolch, guardian angel/mechanic on-call (Baltimore, MD) 

 Michelle, childhood friend/awesome girl (Omaha, NE) 

 Corey and Jerry, local heroes (Gothemburg, NE) 

 Joe Allen of Springfield, OR, a genuinely nice guy (Boulder, CO) 

 Megan Frankenstein, my Badger for life (Boulder, CO) 

 Susan and Bob, dear friends of 30 + years (Missoula, MT) 

 Chris, fun-loving teacher at heart (Portland, OR) 

 Ashkahn, my mustached floater (Portland, OR)

Portland, OR

Helen: By this point in our road trip, the 5:30 wake up call was the norm and double hits of coffee were a must. Today, we crossed two state lines during our 8 hour drive: Washington and Oregon. But let me tell you (and please, feel free to be offended by this) Oregon, by far, had the worst welcome sign we have seen yet. And we have crossed 12 state lines so far (and have had to recross some because we missed the photo op). Really Oregon? What's your deal. You couldn't have thrown in any fun fonts or designs? Not sure if we would have doubled back for you, Oregon. Not sure.

womp womp.

Cilla:  Almost missed meeting up with another friend I haven't seen in a long time - 7 years or so.  Chris had not responded to my emails using an 0ld address, and I had almost given up.  Then the day before driving to Portland I discovered a cell number and gave it a try .  Chris answered right away, "Cilla!", and we ended up at her condo for 2 nights.  Just a block off the Willamette River.

   

First night, we went to dinner at a restored restaurant/movie theater where you can bring your food/drink inside to watch the film. Later Chris and i got into jammies and enjoyed some quality girl talk on her couch. Helen: I met up with Ashkahn, a friend from my high-school days, and he took me to a great bar called the Horse Brass Pub. At least 60 beers on tap and a rotating list of seasonals that changed daily. Hooray! We got to talking about his business in Portland--a sense-deprivation float tank that promotes relaxation, stress-relief and the occasional hallucination. Excuse me whaaaaa???!!!

   

I was intrigued. After checking out the tanks and hearing his pitch, my interested was piqued. "Come in tomorrow! Bring your mom!" Haha. No way. Mom would not go for this strange hippie new-age crap. Me, on the other hand, was game. When in Portland...you better get weird 

Cilla:  Spent the day contemplating the offer to float with Helen - very intrigued, and back getting pretty sore form all the 10 -11 hour days driving.  Meanwhile the 3 girls (Helen, Chris and I ) explored downtown Portland - streetcar to the city, long browse in Powell's Bookstore, lunch from the amazing selection of food carts, and taking in the scene in and around Pioneer Square on a gorgeous sunny afternoon.

 

Portland street art

Then, decision time.... "to float, or not to float?"  Decided to go for it.

Helen: "If you want to back out, I completely understand..."

Mom: "No! I'm not backing out!"

Oh boy. We were about to spend 1.5 hours "floating". Here's an excerpt from the website:

"About 40 minutes into your float your brain stops producing its normal Alpha waves and starts churning out Theta waves. These are responsible for that ‘between-waking-and-sleeping’ state, and you make them naturally every night before you conk out. While it only lasts for a few sparse moments in your bed, you can achieve a prolonged Theta state in the tank, a state of consciousness that is usually only seen in children and people who have spent years practicing meditation."

...eh-squeezeme?

Here's the process:

1. Walk into your private spa-like room and strip down to your birthday-suit

2. Take a shower and hop into the float tank (a SciFi-esque enlarged tub with a roof and a hatched door. This tank is filled with water at body temperature and a ridiculous amount of epsom salt so you're super buoyant. It is pitch black and completely sound proof. Literally zero sensory input)

3. Then you float! Just lay back and let the salty, salty water soothe you into a pseudo-sleeping state. You go in and out, you wiggle fingers and toes, stretch a bit, think about that nice river that is taking you downstream...

4. The music fades in and you're done! A quick shower you're on your way.We felt great!

Just call us Portlandians.

Me with the man behind it all

Slipped out early the next morning for another long day on the road.  Thanks Chris and Ashkahn for the great time in Portland. You're the best!

CALIFORNIA HERE WE COME!

Big Sky Reunion

Our next stop was Missoula, Montana, at the home of  Susan and Bob Stahl

Home of the Stahl Family

Front porch - wanted to spend at least a week here reading and gazing at the mountains

The side yard - frequent deer sightings

Susan and I were camp counselors together in the early 70's and haven't see each other in over 30 years!  Helen and I were welcomed with open arms at their spacious home just outside of town. Wrap-around porch, view of the mountains, deer grazing nearby.  So great catching up and sharing memories of summers in Minnesota. Susan and I huddled around her photo albums, laughing over fading snapshots of the two of us, braless and tan, leading camp songs and relay races on shores of Camp Lake Hubert. Also enjoyed learning about Bob's work with Native Americans. He showed us his silver smith workshop in their basement with his vast collection of tools, metals, and gem stones  - beautiful jewelry!

With Bob and Susan at Cafe Dolce - delicious everything!

The next morning, Susan was up before dawn packing a generous stash of travel goodies, including  fruit smoothies in mason jars and fresh brewed coffee in Montana souvenir mugs. With promises to reunite again soon, we headed off in the cool morning - up the mountain and into a cloud at the next pass.

 

Jackson, WY (Part II)

The most spectacular half day hike ever in Grand Teton National Park.  Pictures pretty much tell the story. 

 

Approaching Jenny Lake Trail

 

Ferry ride across the crystal clear lake

A ten minute ride across the lake

Hidden Falls

 

Up , up, up

 

Inspiration Point Cascade Canyon -truly  breath taking

 

 

Moose sighting!

Yes, real live moose!

 

The moose and his backyard. Can you spot him?

 As dark afternoon  clouds moved in, we retraced our steps and headed out of the park.  To avoid traffic on the main road to Jackson, we chose the road less traveled. Rosa gets a workout on 2 miles of dirt road. We continued driving west, over the Teton Pass at 8,500 ft (you can do it Rosa!), and  into Idaho where we crashed at a Best Western - only our 2nd hotel of the trip.

Jackson, WY (Part I)

It was Saturday and we were on the road again for the Grand Tetons in Wyoming. The landscape rose and fell with red rocks and green fields; an occasional buffalo cut-out made a silhouette on a hovering cliff. We came to a little town called Lander. It was right on the highway and seemed to pull in all those passing through. We found great lunch and conversation (among humans and dogs) at the Gannett Grill.

Some more long, music-filled, reflective driving through the hills as we marveled at the scenery. But nothing could prepare us for the majesty of the Tetons. As we approached the mountains, the clouds encroached and raindrops pattered at our windows. The Tetons were obscured with the sun so hidden, but this was our first chance to take in their presence. We got out of the car. Just then, a cloud was split by the fury of lightning--a perfect bolt thrown at the ground. One Mississippi, two Mississippi...

The thunder was godly. Awesome in the word's purest meaning. The roar built and grew and expanded throughout the valley, each wave bouncing off a different face of the mountain. It was a thirty-second bellow of nature testing her limits.

We left the mountains for our motel, reassured by our decision to spend another day with the Tetons to fully grasp her depths. The rain had settled in for the evening, but we committed to exploring Jackson's town square. Hungry and thirsty, we searched for the liveliest dining place. A bustle of people and the sound of live music drew us towards the Silver Dollar Bar & Grill. This was the absolute best. People were packed in, waiting for a table or a bar stool as a trio of musicians stomped and strummed and twanged and sung. Coupled got up to swing and dip and promenade around the dance floor. We couldn't get enough! The band, Br'er Rabbit, fueled by our energy stomped and twanged even harder; their fingers hot with friction and bodies electric with energy. This was Jackson. This was the West.

A solid beginning for our two-part Jackson adventure.

Boulder, CO

We snuck out of Omaha in the early morning, only functioning once we had located a decent cup of coffee. About three hours into our drive, we realized that Rosa sounded a little...clanky. We were concerned. She was due for an oil change soon so maybe we should just pull over at a local gas station and check her levels. Well, that didn't go as smoothly as planned. The dipstick crumbled in mom's hands. Uh oh. Not good. Fortunately local Gothenburg hero, Corey Cooper, was just leaving the convenience store when they saw us staring down the engine, contemplating whether to feel rage or defeat. He directed us to a mechanic 3 minutes away-- "ask for Kurt or Jerry, tell 'em Corey sent you". Now, Jerry couldn't give us a new part but he could plug up the oil chamber so we weren't leaking all the way to Boulder. That'll do! What a man.

Joe Allen of Springfield, OR We pulled into a VW dealership in Boulder to secure the needed part (shout out to Nate Seely for coordinating this adventure, as we were in the middle of absolutely nowhere with zero cell service). Joe Allen handed over a spanking new part and even recommended a mechanic in town ("we aren't really suppose to do this, but I'll make an exception"). It was closed but we didn't panic. The Rockies were in our views and Boulder microbreweries were calling our name.

Frankenstein! Megan Frankenstein ran to greet us in her driveway. Her house looked right out to the Flatirons. We headed downtown to the Pearl Street Mall where we saw street musicians, fire-twirlers, bike riders and lots of dreadlocks. Our first stop was at the Lazy Dog for a rooftop view, beers and appetizers.

 

Oh...that's a liter? Megan took us to Bohemian Biergarten, a German ale house with an open, communal atmosphere and giant, GIANT beers. Yummers. (At this point, mom graciously bowed out in order to let two Wisconsin Badger beer-drinkers catch up).