The Rough and Tumble, Legendary WEST

To the great surprise of anyone who knows my severe distaste for the act of driving, a week after returning to Toledo, I left again. I bought a GPS, repacked a suitcase, grabbed my accordion, and hit the road, driving towards the beautiful and legendary American west! Armed with a couple books on tape and a couple bags of carrots, I drove through the I states (Indiana, Illinois, and Iowa) and spent the first night alone in a cornfield. I mean, in a motel 6 in "Avoca," Iowa... but everybody knows that place can't possibly be real. The first day's drive was about 11 hours, and all in all rather enjoyable. The next day I blazed through Nebraska (hands down the most boring state I drove through) and into Colorado, where after about 9 hours' drive, I met up with my fellow T-18 reject, Bang, in Boulder. We enjoyed some seriously delicious pizza and stayed up late talking about China and Brazil and travel and the future, with me somewhat salivating over his placement to Azerbaijan... It was great to reconnect with somebody I had met only a week before. Early the next morning, I headed out to Utah with the great Rocky Mountains reflected in my rearview mirror. I drove through BEAUTIFUL Wyoming, already dusted with the snow that insisted on exploding itself, wet and sticky, onto my windshield. It's a good thing I had my Britney Spears cds to keep the interior of the car hot hot hot ;). Unfortunately I wasn't able to spot any mythical Pronghorns... In the evening, after about 8 hours of driving, I arrived in Salt Lake City! This was officially the furthest West I had ever been, as I had previously only been to Denver. I stayed here with another T-18 reject, Ben! The first night we took a lovely walk (time to stretch out my legs a bit) and had some delicious Mediterranean food and even better conversation, which we continued over the live jazz and drinks and a nearby bar. The next day, we explored Salt Lake City a bit. I saw the Mormon Temple (barf), a farmer's market, and a view of the city and mountains from the top of the library. Inspired by the view of nature, we stopped for burritos and then hiked up into the mountains. It was breathtakingly beautiful... the silver aspen trees looked like cardboard cut outs coated with precious metals against the deep, luscious hues of the evergreen trees. Golden leaves shimmered in the cool breeze and pockets of snow decorated the earth. We even saw moose tracks! I took a lot of pictures, which I will soon begin to paint! The mountains are quiet, peaceful, majestic. In the evening I had the extreme pleasure of hearing some of Ben's stories read aloud over cups of steaming tea... Salt Lake City has definitely left a beautiful imprint in my mind! The next day I was up early and attacked the 12 hour drive to California, driving through the salt falts of Nevada and the mountains demarcating the entrance into California. I was thoroughly enjoying myself until I encountered the legendary 12 lane SF traffic... at which point I seriously contemplated suicide, hitch-hiking, hang-gliding, or setting up permanent shop on the breakdown lane, anything to avoid EVER DRIVING IN IT AGAIN! Somehow, white knuckled, knees knocking, breath coming shallow and erratic, static electricity sending my hair into Tina Turner mode, I managed to arrive at Solomon's domicile.

I've now been in California for a week, and it has been an interesting week. On the one hand, I'm thrilled to be in a new place, with so much culture to explore. I am with good people, or I am in my own company, trying to get my head on right. On the other hand, I'm still trying to deal with the shock and immense disappointment of not being where I really really want to be: Turkmenistan. My life is in a very weird place right now, and I'm not good at dealing with periods of foggy uncertainty. I like to be always learning or working towards something, and although I love 9 hours of sleep and meditation as much as the next emotionally fulfilled girl, I'm not good at having unconstructed days where I don't really really have to do anything at all. So, I am simultaneously searching for something to do (aka a job), searching for resolution about this first peace corps disaster, searching for respite from the perpetual heartbreak that leaves me, most of the time, feeling sad and confused. But, like the ever-wise King Solomon reminds me, "You've been in California for a week, girl, CHILL!" And indeed, in that week I've gotten horribly lost in San Francisco: I did manage to see the Pier, the Fisherman's Wharf, the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, Angel Island, Chestnut street with its cute restaurants and prototypical San Franciscan architecture, the whole of Van Ness and most of Market Street. I've discovered the glossy Palo Alto, checked out a strip club in San Jose (which I was lead to believe had openings for "BIKINI DANCING," also known as a Craigslist Euphemism for giving awkward old guys lapdances), rocked the local dive bar in Fremont, run around beautiful ponds in a local park, and thoroughly explored Half Moon Bay for the annual pumpkin festival! So far, Half Moon Bay is my favorite... you can't beat sleeping with the sound of the waves through the night and being greeted in the morning by the misty fog and muted colors of a pacific sunrise. The cute surfers at Surfer Beach don't hurt, either. In my "alone time," I'm also learning Russian (to better my peace corps service), playing the accordion every day, reading "A People's History of the USA," and plotting a mural King Solomon wants me to paint in his apartment. I'm optimistic that the second week in California will be better than the first, emotionally tumultous week. All I have left to do is find a job, so I can jet to Germany for Thanksgiving... stay tuned!