Setting out West

Well, my time in Texas has come to a close--for now. Today, I will head out across the no man's land of West Texas. My dad got in yesterday--we went to some BBQ, which was OK, and then caught Inception at The Alamo Drafthouse. A really interesting movie theater: all the commercials were made by them, and had some element of hilarity, e.g. "Make sure to put your cell phone away, or we will hunt you down and finish you," (this is coupled with a short clip of an usher stabbing a man who had his cellphone out during a movie. There were also commercials for local events at the various Drafthouses around town--outdoor movie night, old classics night, beer brewing discussion night, and so on. Also, in the theater, a waiter is assigned to your area, and you order food by writing down what you want on a sheet of paper, and putting it on the table in front of you--my dad had ice cream with caramel, and I had some peanut butter cups and a Brooklyn Brown Ale--it all totaled $15--somehow I feel like, if that was in LA, it would have been $20-30. Inception was good, but my third time--I think I fully understand it now, if you have questions, I am pretty sure I can answer them; it is still a fantastic film.

Today we are going to leave about midday--I still need to pack and organize. I should take the dogs for a walk sooner than later, I guess. Yesterday, while walking the greenbelt, Chops ran up to another dog. Then he spotted a cat lurking in the foliage to the right, and he bolted after it--the lady with the dog screams, "That's my cat!"--oh shit! As the lady rummages the bushes calling out, "here Corn Dog...heeeeere Corn Dog," a take the time to clarify, "You were walking your cat as well?" She told me that the cat likes to follow the dog and her on walks. I apologized immensely and put Chops on leash. I need to work with him on this, but his prey drive is extremely high. He catalogs in his mind, where he has seen small animals, and whenever we return to those places, he checks them excitedly. In any event, I am going to try some training with my mom's cat, when I get home.

Today we head out, and it is the next phase of my never ending summer: it started with Mexico post school, then the solo drive north for 1000mi, then Austin for two weeks, now a road trip west, then LA for a month, then north and Burning Man, then back to LA, then north again (with dogs and Espanoles) to SC and Berkeley, then back to LA, down to SD for Joe's SEALS graduation, and then back to Austin for ACL and the homestead...so it goes and here I come!

Austin--Vacation

Well, here I be: Austin, TX, hot and sweaty. Since I have gotten here, it has been a new world, filled with good people, good thoughts, and awakenings.

My first day here, I went out for a beer and a burger with my neighbor Josh, and it was grand. Much like Condesa, we are in the thick of things here, and walking to all the basic needs is a great luxury. I have eaten cheeseburgers on three separate occasions, and they all have been lovely in their own way:

• Cheeseburger with whiskey smoked cheddar (and $3 Texas brewed Hefeweizen) at Flying Saucers.
• Late night EZ's diner cheeseburger--quite tasty.
• And last but not least, I sampled a Mighty Fine burger, with cheese, bacon, and jalapenos, and I threw in a chocolate shake to really test it out. This isthe South's answer to In-N-Out, and let me tell you: the decorum, the menu, the burger, the shake, and the quality were pretty damn good...but it still doesn't beat that California treat, that is In-N-Out.

Other than eating burgers, I went and played some pick up ultimate frisbee on Friday night. A group of guys, various skill and athletic ability, play 5-7 on a side. The fields where they meet are two blocks from my house. I was a little nervous going, but I sucked it up and checked it out. The way they play, is white shirts vs. dark shirts, and you cover whomever you are standing across from. It isn't really about who wins the game, but rather just playing each point. It was a hell of a work out, and my freaking hair tie snapped on the first point. I ripped the pull chord off my bucket hat, and tied my hair with that. I didn't play my best, but it was a great first step. I am playing tomorrow at a different park with some of the same guys.

I also have spent time organizing my room, which I am really enjoying. Although my room gets little light, because I have one window, and it hides undera grove of trees, I love the layout. THIS HOUSE IS GREAT! Once I get a camera, I will snap some decent photos, but for the meantime, here are some camera picks of my room layout:

I also, put up a little fence with a gate so that I have created a space for the dogs to have during the day, when I am not there. My intention was to create a place for them to have for both making poops and chilling. This way, they are not dirtying the whole yard, and they learn where to do their business.

Last night, Marissa and I went and saw Inception (or El Origen, as my friend Noli informed it is called in Mexico). It was WILD! I am still thinking about it, and ready to go back to the theaters and see it again. The cast did an amazing job, and the pure future implications of this kind of reality are spine tingling--digital drugs, was the phrase that came to mind. The ability to download digital narcotics, and to altar the body, mind, and chemistry within, I believe is not so far off. and shortly after its development and commercialization, we shall see the development of addictions. We already have the technologically addicted, but the lead will be, when these digital worlds are implanted, uploaded, connected, interfaced, and spliced into the human body. I proclaim it now: this will be the epidemic of my children's generation.

On a happier note, I have started brainstorming my ideas for Burning Man. With the help of Marissa, and it is a short time frame, I hope to construct a tent canopy shelter for my 4Runner, which will double as a shell for protecting my truck from the elements, and the creation of a home base for myself, while in the wilds of the playa. The more I have meditated on what I will need at Burning Man, the more I think a personal sanctuary will be of the upmost importance.

Much love.

The End and The Return

Wow! That is how I will start it all off--Wow!!!

Now, sorry for the length of this update, but it has been many many weeks, and there is much that needs to be logged for the official record.

I have been out of work since the 18th. Since that time, much has transpired, and I have not updated for quite sometime. So here is the short and narrow or the many weeks, wrapping up my time in Mexico:

1) I packed up my car and my belongings on the 29th of June. It

was many many hours of moving, adjusting, planning, and pushing. I got it all in--I utilized my custom net on the inside of the truck to hold clothing, camping gear, and framed photos. I then stacked all the boxes on the passenger side of the truck, and filled the rest of the crap into the rocketbox on top. I made a sweet little nest for the dogs, and then I patted myself on the back for my efforts.

I had intentions of leaving that same day, but the more I thought about leaving, the more I didn't want to. SO, I put my truck in a pension, and I moved the dogs and some essentials into Mauricio's house--I dropped him off at the airport a week earlier, and he was happily in Chile. I holed up in his house and made good on my freetime: watched his pirated copies of UFC Top 100 Fights, drank coffee and walked in the park with the dogs, Had a great lasagna dinner with Marta and the Espanoles, went and saw a crazy play with Julia (It was inside an old city bus, and it was fucking wild!), I ate at all my favorite spots, saw some Lucha Libre, and I enjoyed The City without the strain of my job.

Also, I went with Ms. Tess Wheelwright to an amazing toy mueseum in Doctores. A Japanese/Mexican man owns the place, and it is wild. It felt like a weird mix of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Alice in Wonderland. We capped off the experience with mescal in a Centro Cantina. Then I had a despedida at Groove--an Argentinian/Italian place. A bunch of the gringos (Josh, Dave Miller, Dean, Tim, Ryan, Greg) showed up and Pablo, Ana, Julia, Nachete, and Marta made an appearance. It was an evening of good food, good drinks,

and good laughs. It was a nice way to begin the end of Mexico. I felt like it started the ball rolling in my mind, and I began to evolve the notion of leaving. I stayed in the city for much longer after this, but it was the beginning of a new beginning.

2) During my relaxation in the house of Mauricio, I received an email from one of my students, Chris Clifford. Mr. Clifford told me, that his family home in Avandaro (Part of the lakeside mountain community known as Valle de Bravo) was available for FREE rental. I thought about this opportunity, and inside I channeled my old traveling buddy Jamie Marcus, and said "More "yes's" than "no's". I asked Pablo, Ana, and Julia if they would like to join me for a day or two, and they said yes. So it was set into action.

I headed out last Sunday. I met the Cliffords at their hacienda and spent the evening with them. The father is a sociologist who works in media analysis and community studies. We had some great conversations over tea. Both Mr. and Mrs. Clifford are of English descent (their families immigrated to Mexico many generations back), so coffee is not the drink of choice. We had a good evening, and Chris showed me around to some of the highlights of the pueblo.

The next day, the Cliffords left early and I awoke to an empty house. I made some coffee (they had gone, so I thought it was ok), and I headed to the backyard with my Warbonnet Blackbird camping hammock. I hung out, for most of the day. I wrote in my journal, I read my book (started reading Kerouac's On the Road--it seems fitting for this summer and life change). In the evening, after some blunders with my directions and phone, the Espanoles made it.

We had a sweet dinner, played some board games, and had a

little fire. It was good times.

The next day we wandered into Valle de Bravo, and took a spin around the lake. It was beautiful, and the houses were incredible. We ended the day back in Avandaro, where Pablo and Ana gifted me my very own authentic Bota de Vino. I still need to break it in, but it shall be ready for my summer adventures. We then had Spanish chorizo and cheese, and played a game of Apples to Apples. The game ended with some sour feelings, and a little bit of a divide arose between Julia and I--it was a shame that it occurred at such a time, but things happen. We tried to talk it out, but feelings aren't always rational, and hence we had to agree to disagree.

The next day, the Espanoles left, and I stayed on by myeslf. I spent the next two days in the house alone--I played guitar and sang songs, I ate food, watched some UFC, made a fire, and took a hike to the lake. The hike to the lake was a trip in and of itself.

We walked from the wealthy paved roads of the upper class into the dusty dirt roads of the rural mountain poor. We wound down down and down. At the bottom, all the lake access was swallowed up by private property. I asked a kind gardner if I could walk down, and he said sure, that they were closed for today, but not to worry.

As soon as we got to the bottom, Chops threw up. He began to vomit profusely, and in one of the foamy mounds I saw rotten intestines of some animal--at some point on our hike, he had eaten a dead animal.

He looked at me, and in his eyes there was no clarity. He began to shake an wobble; he stumbled into the water and put his nose in, but was unable to drink. I began to panic--we were two hours down the mountain, and he was having a toxic reaction. I grabbed him by the collar and we began marching up. Whenever I let him go, he would stumble this way and that.

We began walking, and I decided that if a car passed, I would ask them for a ride. We continued to walk, and I wiped the foam from his mouth. As we marched, he began to right himself. I could tell he was becoming more alert, and he had stopped trembling. We found a hole with fresh rain water, and he drank long and deeply. He snorted and looked at me--he was back! My heart still thumped as we walked on, but we got back to the summit, and I purchased bottled water from a tienda--he drank the whole fucking thing.

We got back to the cabin, I went for some firewood, and we settled in for the night--the rain started and went through the night. I cooked a solid dinner (gave Chops some yogurt for his stomach--he loved it!), made a fire, and howled at my solitude. The power went out, and I huddled on the floor with the dogs--we warmed ourselves by the fire, and we enjoyed the melodies of the wild.

The drive out was beautiful, and I beat the traffic home. I spent my final night back in

DF. I had a burger from Orujo, my favorite Uruguyan BBQ joint, and I spent a little time chatting it up with Pablo and Ana--I LOVE THOSE TWO!

3) Early on the 10th I hit the road. I cleaned Mauricio's house, and left him a few parting gifts. After a quick breakfast with Pablo and Ana, I loaded up the car and hit it. My GPS helped me navigate swiftly to the Periferico and I started blazing my trail north. No sooner was I making good time did it all grind to a stop. The genius of urban planning in Mexico is astounding; projects are started that are immense in scope and size, and it seems like they do the entire first step and then take on little parts, i.e. bulldoze the dirt for an entire new freeway, and then build it in non-chronological parts. Needless to say, I encountered one of these great projects, and I spent the better part of an hour shifting in and out of 1st, all because they had closed one lane for a stretch of concrete repair about 5 meters long--one would think they could do this at night, but oh well.

I was back at cruising speed, and I made my way ever northward: Queretero, San Luis Potosi, Matehuala, and eventually Saltillo. I clicked in at about 500mi (800km) when it was all said and done. It is a shame that the north of Mexico is facing such peril with all the Narco Wars, because it truly is beautiful. I was taken a back by the lush green mountains and

valleys that lined the drive.

I pulled into Saltillo at sunset, found a rustic little motel for the night, pleaded my case for the dogs, and holed up for the night. There was AC and TV. I took the liberty of cutting my rally beard for my return to the States--I have been thinking about reflecting the change in my life with a change in my appearance--I got a lot of weird looks on the road after this.

4) Raging the road was without a hitch--until 50mi (80km) from the town of Nuevo Laredo. Due to the hurricane and rains, the final stretch to Laredo had been closed for 4 days. Trucks lined the freeway and drivers played card games in the dirt. I asked an old man, who seemed to know what to do, where I could cross, he told me that the road heading east was open, and that I could try and cross further down. So I hopped in the truck with a quarter tank and barrelled off--surely I would find gas en route, afterall, there are Pemex stations everywhere.

As I blazed down the potholed country road, I wondered how this would all pan out. After about a half hour I saw a gas station, but the pumps were closed, well ok then. I asked the lady inside if the border was open further down, and if there was gas, she said yes to both. I chugged a gatorade and barreled on.

Another half hour, and I am behind some semi trucks, when a pick up, going the opposite direction, flashes its lights--the driver tells me that it's all flooded this way too, and that it is closed--AHHH--so close yet so far away. Since I was an hour down the road, and my GPS said I was about 7mi (10km) from the town, I decided to continue on, rather than turning back. As I round the final corner, once again trucks are lining the road--SHIT! I pull up to a military officer decked out with fatigues and an AK-47. He waves me through the check point--what I did not know, was that myself and the other three cars he waved through, were the first to be let through in days. I speed into town, at last a gas station--no wait, it is closed--now the empty light flicks on--SHIT AGAIN! I start driving through this little puebla, and I conclude that I must stop and find gas from someone. I pull over after seeing many people milling about. I ask a fair skinned lady what I can do, she first responds in Spanish, and then in perfect US English--holy shit, a gringa! I tell her my predicament, and she tells me that her husband has gas at the house, and I can follow her there, and we can fill up. She informs me that there have been no gas deliveries for a week.

We get to her house, and her husband is waiting outside--he is a tall Mexican man with a tough and rugged look, but sweet. He brings out a 5 gallon jug, and we drop it into the tank. She asks me, where I am coming from, and I say, "Saltillo, by way of DF." She is sort of in disbelief. She goes on to tell me, that when she saw me, she was taken a back, because there are no tourists in the north these days. She said it has gotten really bad, and all the rumors and worries I had heard in DF were not unwarranted. Apparantely last week they hung a man down the road in the next town--she has lived there for 20 years, and she is moving back to the States, because the border has become too dangerous--WOW!

I offer to pay for the gas, they refuse, I tell them that they are my angels, and I leave them both with a handshake--it was a random act of kindness and luck.

I follow their directions and cross over a bridge on the outskirts of town--I slow down through the Mexican check point, but they check nothing--no one was outside. I cautiously continue on expecting a federali to come in hot pursuit, the street signs change to English, and I am driving over a lake, and then I am in line. I am car 15 and I am waiting. It took about 40 minutes to get up to the light, but when I looked back, there were at least 50 more cars behind me--like I said, I was one of the first cars to be let through. I pull up to the guard, and he asks me what I have to declare--I say nothing. He tells me I have a truck full of stuff, that I have to declare something. I say that I have dogs, with papers (I show them), I have some guitars, he looks at my coffee cup (which is an old spaghetti sauce jar), he snoops around, scans my passport, and waves me through--HOLY MOTHER OF LORD, I AM BACK!!!

I stopped at a green patch of grass just beyond the border patrol station and let the dogs out. I also let out a rebel yell--it felt so good to make it back.

The next hours were just filled with southern Texas nothingness. I past hundreds of creatively named ranches; the most notable was, "La Buena Vida".

5 hours later, about, I was pulling down my street, Avenue C. I pulled up, and Dave, the landlord, a young Mexican American buck about 35 or so, was putting the finishing touches on some work in the house. We chopped it up a little bit, and it felt right. I moved all my crap into my room, and then I met Josh. Josh lives in the little studio in back. He is a chill guy, and his mannerisms seem familiar, like an old friend. Him, Marissa, and I went out to dinner for some good local beer and burgers. We shared stories and philosophies. He is an engineering consultant, and is out of town one week a month. I think it will work out really nicely.

And well, that is it. I am here until the 27th, when my dad flies out, and we hit the road back to LA. I plan on being in LA up until Burning Man, and then heading north for some SC time.

I am forgetting things, but all and all, it has been the perfect ending to a perfect year abroad.

Preparing for the Return

Pictures, tell stories, but stories of that moment. A picture can't seemingly change its tune, when the folks inside choose to. That being said, Life is pushing on, and the stories are evolving.

I am T-minus a week and then I am heading north. A house opens up on the 10th, and I shall be there shortly after to plop part of my life down, and then maybe hit up some pick up frisbee--My buddies Jordan and Kristen put me in touch with a guy named Gary. Gary sent me to the website Austin Ultimate. There are

leagues and pick-up games going all the time. I found a M/F game, that I kid you not,

is less than four blocks from my house!

I feel solid excitement for this summer, and for the year ahead. Sure I have felt sad/stressed about leaving, but the journey must push on. And this time, I am moving without commitment--life is opening and opening, and it feels good.

Watching World Cup has been a blast. The Mexico gam

es have been crazy here, and the U.S. pulled out a hell of a win yesterday against Algeria, scoring a goal in overtime.

I dropped my truck off at Toyota yesterday for an oil change and

suspension diagno

stics/repair. It feels good to have the money to take care of the thin

gs you love--I love my truck! It has been a key element to this adventur

e. The folks at Toyota are super nice and professional--and they detail your car for free--so I will have a sweet wagon for the 10 adventure nor

th. Below is my map, with options for the border crossing. Check out the larger map for my notes and information:

View The Road to Austin in a larger map

The New Pad in Austin

This is the video, shot by the great Beast, known as Gorlick. I think this place is going to workout nicely!

End of the Year and New Things

Well, two things:

1) I just finished this painting...man I really had to work it and rework it. The proportions were all wrong, and I was using these new POSCA paint pens. I am not totally satisfied, and I feel like I may give it away for free--I do not feel like I am really at the stage for charging strangers for paintings. It was a meditation in patience to finish this.

2) This is a video my buddies, Mauricio and Pablo, made for me. They showed it at the ASF end of the the year party, thrown by Mikey Henny. It was a great bash complete with foosball, keg, and live band. We had a roast for all those departing teachers. I roasted my mentor Siri Berman. It felt really good to make my peers laugh so hard. I feel like I really captured the essence of why we all have so much respect for the great Berman. Anywho, when it was my turn to be roasted, my buddies through this up on the projector:

Also, we have a place in Austin!
View Larger MapIt is a great old 1920's house that is being restored. It is at the upper end of what I wanted to pay, but it is worth it! It has a great front porch and yard, hardwood floors, black and white tile in the kitchen, and a big back yard, already decked out with raised bed planters, which are brimming with tomatoes. It is in the heart of Hyde Park, and is walking distance to farmer's markets, coffee shops, grocery stores, parks, and more. Having now lived in La Condesa, the center of my social world (i.e. friends, food, dogs, and parks), I realize that a little extra money for location, is definitely worth it. Marissa shot a video of the place, which I will try and post soon.

NOTE: The picture of the map above can be manipulated:

• If you zoom out one click, The map is showing directions from my soon to be house (Point A: 4504 Avenue C) to a great natural dog park (Point B: Red Bud Isle--read below for more information). The park is 5.4 miles (about 15 mins by car) from my house.
• If you would like to see my house, please check out the street view from Google--the new pad is on the left--cute, huh?

Red Bud Isle: This is why this place is going to rock! A kick but outdoor spot, in the city, which permits dogs off leash--what a freakin' great idea! Hello California!!!

I am both excited and sad for to leave DF. It has been a blast, and I really feel like I have made some amazing relationships here. I know that I will be back next year, to visit now/old places, and to see good peoples. I am really feeling connected to those that are around me. It is funny how that happens at the end of the year. However, I need to head to Austin and follow this curiosity of life.

Ahoy, to the journey we are all traveling on.

Smelly Kuhn - Get Back (Reprise).mov

A little video to wrap up the year. Produced, edited, and spawned by the incomparable Pablo Zeta of Zeta Factory aka Zeta Studios.

The Whirlwind Weekend--Good People and Good Times

I like to think of my dogs in this way===============>
And it is a bummer when you come back to hear that they have been nightmares--namely one large white one, by the name of Chops.
Shit he did: Puke on the dog blanket (trashed now), crossed major traffic to eat out of a trashcan on the other side of the road, started fights with other dogs, and was just generally unruly. POOP--Confirms the fact that I need to get out of apartment living, get a job that gives me more free time, and get out camping, more often.
Big thanks to Julia, Mauricio, Marta, and Dave, for watching the little buggers--Flow was apparently perfect. Chops, is in the terrible twos, and requires constant supervision and monitoring. Also, his hurt paw from the Nevado de toluca hike, still hasn't closed--I think the pain might be a source of his agitation--not an excuse, just a specuation.
Here are some pics from our 15,200ft (4600m) summit. I hiked with fellow ASF English Teacher and mentor, Siri Berman, and her boyfriend Stefan Barsanti. THe dogs trooped it to the top with great elegance, aside from Chops spill and gashed foot.
The vistas were great, and as the 4th highest peak in Mexico, it was a great physical challenge:
<



This last weekend saw me headin back North to visit friends and fam, and attend Danny's wedding to Christina in Carmel .
Here is the short and skinny:
Met Gloria for In-N-Out, met mom at home, and napped.
Flew up to San Jose and dined with Aunt Tee and Uncle Steve. The greatest extended family I got. The conversation, humor, and life musings, as always, was absolutely phenomenal--Love those folks! We ate at Oswald's in Santa Cruz. B Man (Brian) wasworking and we chopped it up. He sat down and shot the shit for a minute or two, and then he sent us three exquisite desserts. a beautiful little moment in time.
Stopped over and saw the Klines at their respective places of employment. Stopped at Soquel and saw some familiar faces.
Next morning made a great stop at Harbor Cafe. Met up with Denis, Shaun, Andy, Marissa, and Shae. Had a great breakfast and some good laughs, then headed over to casa de Rudolph. Much progress has been made, including the addition of a little Boston Terrier and Bulldog mix by the name of Moose.
Headed down to Carmel. picked up a tux and a gift, and made our way nice and slow down the coast.
Went to the rehearsal wedding and dinner in Carmel. Beautiful city. Met some new and old friends.
Headed back to the hotel cabanas, enjoyed brews and conversation late into the night.

Arose early, before the wedding, and at Andy'surging we hit up Point Lobos. Did some sweet early morning hiking. Stopped early o the hike in favor of some sweet food.
Hit the wedding and then a plethora of photos. It was a beautiful day, and Danny and Tina were absolutely radiant.
Made it to the wedding reception, and it was a blast. Great food, great dances moves, made a toast to the bride and groom, and smoked an authentic cuban--it was a damn good time. I found my way to bed by 10, and it felt so so so lovely.

Flew home, met up with Gloria, Joey, and his buddy from the SEALS Flint. We went to Greenblat's in Hollywood and got down on some hot pastrami. After that I went home, met up with the folks, watched a little Lakeshow and Lost, and then went over to Gloria's crib, which lead me to her couch, which put me right to sleep--not a very good best friend, to just fall asleep, but she understood.

Addendum: The next day my mom and I made a nice an early exit for LAX. We took a pair of vibram five fingers which I ordered to REI for a size change. We then attempted some breakfast at Mickey D's, but we were past the dreaded 10:30 am cutoff for breakfast. After changing the shoes, I realized I didn't need two pairs, and that the fit still wasn't right--my mom made the plan to head over to Uncle Gil and Aunt Char's house. I decided to give the shoes to my Uncle, who is my fellow May 26th birthday buddy. My mom slipped in through the side door, and into the house. I am not sure if it was open or she broke in. In any event I left the present on their table. I believe they are out of town, so the gift shall await their return.

After that, we took the scenic Manhattan Beach drive, and my mom dropped me off at the appropriate gate with plenty of time for incidentals. We had, for us, a fairly tearless goodbye. A sweet ending to a sweet vacation.

Now I am back at school, with two weeks left to teach.

Possible futures:

Shaun informed me that he has landed me a few market jobs for the summer. He also told me, that he checked with his inlaws, and I could stay on the backend of their property, if I built a small fence for my dogs--probably around $200, and that would be the cost of living for the summer. Thus far, this is my only option for making money this summer, and it sounds pretty damn nice.

Hypothetically, leave DF at the end of June, take a quick but kick ass road trip up through Mexico to Austin with Ms. Tess Wheelright. Drop her at the airport, and book it across the southwest to Santa Cruz. Get situated by the beginning of July and start working for a few months. Start paying rent August 1st in Austin. Go to Burning Man for the end of August, and then head on down to LA for September, then drive down to San Diego for Joey's graduation from SEALS training, and across to Austin for ACL on October 8th, and a new life!

Right now, post California vacation, this is sounding like an amazing plan. Also, got offers to spend a week or two up in Jackson Hole for ski season, and learn the ways of snowboarding from Zachy Zimmerman.

Weekends are Strong Beginnings

Music has been exchanging nice and freely, thanks to Dropbox and well informed individuals with good taste (Pablo, Gorlick, and Curt).

I type and listen to new stuff.

Yesterday, was a damn good day of ultimate. We won the first two, and lost the last game. I need to keep pushing myself to step up to my potential. I love the camaraderie, the competition, the athleticism, and the mental agility. I will definitely be playing in Austin--my goal is to get damn good at the sport.

Last night I played some poker with the boys from ultimate. Poker was after we all went to my favorite burger joint in Condesa. We rolled about 10 deep to the restaurant. I was the first to lose in poker. WE then went to the roof and smoked Cohibas and watched the makings of some wild fire on a distant mountain. I then road my bike home around 12 or so.

When I got home I chopped it up with Italians that are visiting.

I went to sleep.

Woke up at 9, and packed my guitar bag like a backpack---guitar, water, food, music, and some picks.

I loaded the dogs in the car, filled up the tank and added some injector cleaner, and headed out to Desierto de los Leones. I hit the trail, and got a good sweat going. the dogs frolicked. We stopped for water. I ran my hand over old stone walls, long since forgotten--the green moss broke off in small chunks of velvet carpet. I stopped and played some guitar, and then moved on. We careened down a hillside, and then made our way to an open road. I wandered down to the old shack where an elderly indigenous lady and her husband make quesadillas. I had three: ongos, chorizo, and papas. She asked where I was coming from, and how I liked the forest. I tipped her an extra ten pesos. Post lunch, I made my way to a meadow, and played a little guitar. Bugs were about, and one bit me on my forehead. I packed it up after a few songs, and we headed out. We got a little twisted around on our route, but I continued to trust my instincts, and both times I started down a wrong path, I felt the incorrectness, and corrected it.

I bumped some of the new music, courtesy of Marissa, and coasted out of the woods to the tune of "Wide Eyes" by Local Natives.

I love my truck, I love my dogs, and I love my life. This is a damn good Sunday. Now I am relaxing in my bed, and thinking good thoughts.

Cheers.

A Long Road and A Long Memory

Life is pushing and pushing and pushing--and though I try, I just can't stop it.

About a month and a half of school left. That deadline seems to bring up the past months. When I think of June and the end of school, I think of this entire year, this blog, these friends, and new places. When I scroll back to the beginning of this Slow Trickle, I am reminded of all that has transpired, and how a year is a long time, and yet again no time at all.

What of the Kline's and Santa Cruz, Andy and the Ocean View pad, Shaun and his garden, Soquel High and its Delinquents, Lost Loves, Mothers and Fathers, California and the road to the East?

I have made up my mind and I am heading to Ausitn next year--why, because something told me to do so, and I abide--all dude's must. Sure I think about if I had another year in DF I would be that better with my Spanish, my friendships would have that many more memories, but again, there is always a hypothetical better future. Part of this choice is to know that my life is not stagnating, and that my life is not a contract for money or some presumed better future. Austin is going to be about music, new friends, outdoors, continuing my Spanish, and breaking the school year cycle which has dominated my life for too long now.

Last weekend, I packed up the truck, left the dogs, picked up two fellow teachers and we headed north--about 8 hours north to be exact. Our destination was the defunct mining town of Real de Catorce. Nestled high on a mountain ridge overlooking an expansive desert, Real de Catorce is accessed via a kilometer and a half tunnel, which bores directly through the mountain range which holds its remnants.

We arrived a few nights after a full moon and we stopped on the rock paved road while ascending to the tunnel. The wind howled, we cracked a few beers, and while rocking out to Jo Jo and The Fugitives' "Fugitive Song", we enjoyed the eendlessness of all that surrounded us.

We crept our way through the puebla to the end of its main road where we docked the truck and slipped into a handmade home. The house had odd dimensions, and an intensely hand built feel. Small doorways, odd stairs, cracks where wind peaked through, but all and all perfect: a hammock chair, a vista of the desert, a fireplace, a kitchen and three beds. We slept well that night.

When I road trip--I drive. I like being behind the wheel, and I like knowing my truck at each stage of the journey--new clutch and starter, and it ran like a dream.

The next morning we awoke early, and headed for the town square. After a light breakfast of fruit and yogurt we began our search for a ticket to the desert. The town is an odd mix of rancheros, indigenous, international hippies, Mexican urbanite families, and your typical below the poverty line Mexican working for a hustle.

We approached the guias who drive 1950 Jeep Willy's down the valley trail to the dessert. These trucks are as old as the rocks that line the buildings and streets, but they are maintained with the ingenuity of the Mexican mind. They run on a 6-cyl Cummins engine, and they are work-horses. We asked the dude about going down to the desert. He gave us the base Gringo price, and the rough time frame--their trips take you down to the desert for an hour, and then back up--the true adventure is the rough ride on the road. We weren't too impressed with the idea.

We headed back to our casita, and we asked Eduardo the helpful inkeeper, if he thought we could go down the road ourselves. I told him I had 4x4, and he said that was definitely necessary. We also asked Eduardo about a location in the desert that he would recommend for site seeing--he told us, in his casual and weathered way, "Vas por poste cincuenta y cuatro". We contemplated the advice; I felt confident that I could navigate the road in my truck, and we felt good about getting off the “gringo trail”. So, we packed up our essentials and took to the truck.

Immediately I discovered on the trail, that my 4x4 high would not be enough for this trip, I was going Low. The road was an odd mix of pot holes, dirt, rock, and insanely steep grades. We picked up two Mexican hippies on our descent. They were heading out to the small desert town of Wadley.

When we made it out of the hair pin turns, dirt, and cliffside nerves, we dropped the hippies off, and headed out on to the open carretera. The road was empty as far as you could see, except for the numbered light posts, which Eduardo had clued us on to. I dropped the truck back into 2WD and we began our counting.

We arrived at poste 54, and I pulled the truck off the side of the road. We sun blocked up, we through on our hats, and brought our respective packs of water, fruit, books, and other personal essentials.

Under the barb wire we went, and the ambling search began. Why were we here? Why had we driven 8 hours north and descended a treacherous canyon road? Well we were in the sacred desert of the Huicholes. We were there to investigate the ritualistic consumption of peyote. The Huicholes have embraced the plant within their culture as an all encompassing medicine. Aside from its hallucinogenic qualities derived from the small percentages of mescaline found with in it, it is a bunch of other alkaloids that provide a host of medicinal purposes. Annually, the Huichol people walk to this desert to harvest peyote, and to embark on a spiritual journey. Children are brought a long and are taught the benefits of the plant with in a safe and ritualistic environment. The cactus is used as a ritual means for conquering an issue in one's life. The Huichol believe that the psychoactive components of the plant allow you to communicate with the gods. I interpret it as this: If you enter that land and that experience with a genuine sense of "buena onda" (good vibes), and you intend to use the plant to open yourself up to what is around you and inside of you, than you are communicating with the gods, because you are allowing yourself to be freed from the fear and misconceptions of societal norms and propaganda. I approached this experience with the intent of freeing myself from within. I was not taking this as a psychedelic holiday, or some teenage joyride of excess. I personally have great respect for hallucinogens and their ability to open one's mind up to the infinite possibilities of this world. This thought is actually trickling into mainstream medicine. I approached my consumption of peyote with great respect for the land, my fellow travelers, and myself. I had the intention of only cutting what I needed, only consuming the peyote itself (no alcohol, marijuana, etc.), and I would not eat any peyote if I did not encounter it myself---all of these things were put into action.

Ten minutes after crossing into the desert we were approached by two police officers. I was thoroughly patted down, and questioned as to why we were there. We answered with genuine honesty. The police officers, pointed us to the direction of the peyote, told us not to cut it, and to enjoy ourselves. They spoke a little English. We all joked a little bit. I walked with them back to my truck to put on my tennis shoes--I had gone in flip flops, and the thick spines from the various cactus were not working out with my thin rubber soles. We joked on the way back. They could sense our good intentions.

We continued back into the desert. Guy, my department head and spearheader of this expedition, made the first discovery. He showed us how to cut it, leave the root, and rebury it, so that it may grow again.

5 minutes later, I found my first button, and I said nothing. I simply and quietly removed my knife from my pocket, knelt down, and gently cleared the dirt from around the base. There was no need to scream and make a scene, in that moment I said thank you and I cut two of the three cacti that I found--leaving the 40+ year old peyote with a pink flower, in order to grow for another day, week, year, lifetime.

As we ambled through the desert we all encountered our portions. We meandered deeper and deeper into the desert. I spotted a line of green trees, and deduced a stream must be producing a small grove of trees on its banks. We made our way across another fence, and encountered a beautiful cove of green. We nestled up on some fallen trunks and began cleaning our bounty.

Gently removing the center flower, and various spines the small cactus showed its inner juiciness. The taste is bitter--like chewing on a piece of bark or other chlorophyll laden object. I took the taste in stride; although not pleasant, I was conscious to not fight the taste and to allow it to wash over me. Some were fighting it hard. We chewed and chewed, and we sat.

20 minutes later, a familiar white shirt and rifle appeared approaching casually--the police were back. I had just began to feel slightly present, and was gently noodling on my harmonica. The police approached us from two directions--I continued to play. Tess, the other English Teacher and I, locked eyes, and there was a deep understanding of what needed to be done.

The cops asked what we were doing, and Tess and I offered up that we were seeking refuge from the heat, and that we were enjoying the desert. They asked if we had eaten peyote, and we said yes, but only a few small ones--which was the truth. I noodled a half hearted rendition of “Amazing Grace” on my harmonica. Guy sat in the background and his face was a tangled mess of frustration, fear, and anger. The head honcho sat down on the log next to me. He had a rabbit's foot in his hand, and stroked it methodically while he was thinking. Tess offered the rifle holding gordito who had patted me down, a cigarette--he accepted. Tess and I locked eyes again, and new that the "buena onda" was all that we needed. The chief showed us a bag that he had just taken from a group of hippies in the same area--in the bag were about twenty cut buttons, and some with the root--obviously the hippies’ intent was to take them home, sell, and grow. That bag, which held the moniker of "Smoke hard", was a symbol of no respect. They also had marijuana in the bag, and the cop showed it to me. I told him that is looked bad, too many seeds, and that there was no need for that out here. Tess questioned the chief about his stellar fur boots. Turned out they were bear fur; he had shipped his boots to Leon for the sweet upgrade. He got up, raised the cuff of his pants, and showed us the nice stitch work. We talked about our favorite tequilas, and I played a few more bars of “Amazing Grace”. The chief asked us what was wrong with our angry friend--we said that he was just nervous--Guy replied, "No quieremos problemas."--implying that we wanted to pay a mordida. It was not what the moment needed, but Guy could not be blamed, he was just too stuck in his head to realize where we were and what was going on. Eventually, rabbit foot in hand, the Chief and his compatriot wished us a "Buen Viaje" and left. No threats, no negativity, no bribes, no nothing---just "buena onda".

Tess and I smiled again, for we knew that it was us and the magic of the desert, which had allowed us to see the possibilities of our encounter with the cops. Magic.

The next hours were spent in conversation with ourselves, each other, trees, flowers, and life. It was a magical time. I sat for a long time atop an old weathered tree--what type I could not tell you, I want to say birch, but that is only because of the sound. I sat in the tree and swayed in the breeze. I discussed ambition, fear, talents, and honesty with myself. I spoke out loud and listened to myself speak like a young child listens to his kindergarten teacher read a moralistic parable. It was enlightening. I could see Tess in the distance communing with a great Joshua Tree. I watched guy stumble through the peyote fields and admire the plethora of families that hid in the shade of the great gobiernadoras.

After hours of thoughts, we individually made our way back to the road. I walked at a speedier pace, and I bobbed and weaved through the gobiernadoras and cacti. I realized that if I did not fight to make a path, but rather followed the path of least resistance, the path that continued to present itself, well then I would make it out of the desert without a scratch, and so I did.

I made it to my truck first. I sat down on my tailgate, and took of my shoes one at a time, in a very Mr. Rogers type fashion. I massaged and cleaned my feet, and then slipped on my sandals. I did this while admiring the low hanging sun. I turned and snapped a picture just as Tess and Guy breached the threshold of the highway.


Guy lay down to admire the long view.










Tess and I joined him for a look-see at the endless landscape.


On our way back up top we encountered a train from Kansas City making its way South. We picked up four hippies on the long road up. I felt at peace with the treacherous trail, and deduced there was just as much joy and fun to be had driving up, as there was fear and nerves--I chose the former, and it felt great. We summited the mountain in darkness, and all was well. I was definitely the only Gringo who dared to drive that pass in his own car, and that was a small accomplishment in and of itself.

The evening was nothing more than a shower, some food, a fire, and deep sleep.

The next morning began with breakfast, a leisurely hang out in the backyard, as we recalled the events of the day before--Why did I keep playing that harmonica while talking to the cops?

We then set out for a hike to Puebla Fantasma, the ghost town remnants of when Real de Catorce was booming in the silver industry. It was a long hot hike, but we stopped often, drank plenty of water, and continued the introspection that seemed to abound.

All and all the trip was a magical meditation in positivity. I felt so good about who I am, who I am becoming, where I am, and where I am going--Life loves me and I love life!

I have carried those smiles into this week, and although a bee stung me in my foot yesterday while playing ultimate frisbee barefoot--I still caught the game winning touchdown. I feel damn good about it all. I also left the lights on my car on, so I have dead battery at the present. But I did go to Costco with Kristen, Siri, and Jordan, and had a blast--so life continues to roll on.

Too much good to worry about the small mindedness of the bad.


Much love.