I like the Grand Canyon. I think everyone should see it. That being said, I was in just as much, if not more, awe when I walked up to the edge of Bryce Canyon for the first time. It's amazing to park the car and turn around and see a big blank spot beyond the immediate trees, and know something huge is waiting there for me to see. I think the Grand Canyon is almost too big to really appreciate in the same way that I appreciated Bryce (and Zion, but more on that later).
Bryce is stunning. The recent snow left a lot of ice and mud on the trails, but a beautiful light blanket over the trees and hoodoos (weird rock spires). I've never seen rocks quite like this before. Katy, Mike and I bravely hiked down into the canyon, which was way more accessible than the Grand Canyon (we hiked to the bottom and back up in just a few hours, while they warn you to NOT do that in a single day at the Grand Canyon for fear of death by exhaustion). It was slippery and there was a lot of "surfing" downhill involved, but what a view. It was just as awesome to look up at the hoodoos as it was to look down. It was a beautiful clear day, so looking up had the added bonus of the bright blue sky behind the crazy rockforms and trees.
Tree of the day: limber pine, which is very complimentary to the hoodoos in its weird spindly appearance. They just grow out of the sides of canyon walls and on top of hoodoos and wherever they want, no matter how strange a place it is for a tree. So neat.
After an intense hike (that altitude will get to you!), we took it easy along the rim trail and then drove through the park, stopping at some of the viewing points. One was over 9000 feet. One had a pretty sweet natural bridge formation. The whole park was pretty incredible.
23 March 2013
Arizona, Nevada, Arizona, Utah, Arizona, Utah
Brian had a flight out of Vegas on Wednesday (March 13) and the Smithbauers had a flight tour of Lake Powell and Antelope Canyon, so Mike and I drove from Flagstaff, Arizona to Kanab, Utah via Las Vegas, Nevada, which involved a lot of weaving in and out of states on weirdly beautiful highways.
Going from Flag to Vegas was weird, losing the beautiful snow cover as we went down in elevation, back into the juniper-pinyon elevation before the high grasslands and eventually the scrubby desert. It was probably in the teens when we woke up in Flagstaff, and kind of toasty once we got back to the Mohave Valley and Desert on our way up to Vegas. We hit the In-N-Out Burger, whose veggie burger is stupid (a hamburger minus the beef, so a bun, lettuce, tomato and onion) but whose fries and grilled cheese are adequate enough. That was the most local cultural thing we could think of.
The drive continued on through ALL of Clark County, Nevada, which is way bigger than I thought (Nevada, which is more than 12.5 times the size of New Jersey, has only 16 counties, while NJ has 21). It is all desert and passes through some wide open empty reservation land (Moapa).
Back into Arizona, I-15 passes through the Virgin River Gorge and over the Virgin River seven times. It was stunning. There is little in the way of geologic lead-up to the gorge, nor did I have any idea it was coming despite my frequent staring at maps, so I was in absolutely awe when we got there. For an interstate highway, it sure has views. We drove through more reservation land (Kaibab-Paiute) and saw a few gas stations and rest stops but little else.
Then Utah (the first time!). More little gas stations and rest stops till we got to Washington, then Hurricane (why is it even called that?!), before hooking a right and heading back into Arizona, through Navajo land before heading back into Utah.
We stayed in Kanab, which seemed like a sleepy little tourist stop (in the middle of the Golden Circle of national parks, including Grand Canyon, Bryce and Zion). Most of the main roads were under construction, but we had a great meal at a Mexican restaurant across the street from our hotel. Even in town, we had a nice view of the beautiful mountains, which would only get better as we carried on to more national parks for the rest of the week...
Going from Flag to Vegas was weird, losing the beautiful snow cover as we went down in elevation, back into the juniper-pinyon elevation before the high grasslands and eventually the scrubby desert. It was probably in the teens when we woke up in Flagstaff, and kind of toasty once we got back to the Mohave Valley and Desert on our way up to Vegas. We hit the In-N-Out Burger, whose veggie burger is stupid (a hamburger minus the beef, so a bun, lettuce, tomato and onion) but whose fries and grilled cheese are adequate enough. That was the most local cultural thing we could think of.
The drive continued on through ALL of Clark County, Nevada, which is way bigger than I thought (Nevada, which is more than 12.5 times the size of New Jersey, has only 16 counties, while NJ has 21). It is all desert and passes through some wide open empty reservation land (Moapa).
Back into Arizona, I-15 passes through the Virgin River Gorge and over the Virgin River seven times. It was stunning. There is little in the way of geologic lead-up to the gorge, nor did I have any idea it was coming despite my frequent staring at maps, so I was in absolutely awe when we got there. For an interstate highway, it sure has views. We drove through more reservation land (Kaibab-Paiute) and saw a few gas stations and rest stops but little else.
Then Utah (the first time!). More little gas stations and rest stops till we got to Washington, then Hurricane (why is it even called that?!), before hooking a right and heading back into Arizona, through Navajo land before heading back into Utah.
We stayed in Kanab, which seemed like a sleepy little tourist stop (in the middle of the Golden Circle of national parks, including Grand Canyon, Bryce and Zion). Most of the main roads were under construction, but we had a great meal at a Mexican restaurant across the street from our hotel. Even in town, we had a nice view of the beautiful mountains, which would only get better as we carried on to more national parks for the rest of the week...
22 March 2013
happy returns
To kick off Katy and Mike's spring breaks (and Brian's vacation and my general tagging along), we took a grand tour of Mohave County. We started with a drive to Oatman, where the burros were out in large numbers, including several babies (which we've taken to calling burritos) ranging from three weeks to about three months. We even caught the daily gun fight for once!
We took Old Route 66 to Topock on our way to Lake Havasu, where we stopped to see the London Bridge, walk along the water, and visit Barley Brothers. It was a lovely drive through the desert. It has "rained" (mostly been overcast and damp, more so than downpour, although the last time the skies deluged on Mohave County) all of three times since I've been here, which has lead to a lot of weird desert grasses growing, and all of the cacti and brush looking less dead, and... a rainbow of wildflowers have sprung up!
After a grand tour of where Mike's been living for the past nine months, we headed east to the Grand Canyon. It had snowed all weekend until we left Bullhead City, so we were greeted with a glorious, heavy, wet snow hanging onto the ponderosa pines in Kaibab National Forest (and thankfully, clear roads!). It was pretty cool to see the difference between summer canyon and winter canyon. The snow made everything very pretty, and it wasn't too cold out to walk around a bit. We mostly strolled along the south rim trail, catching sunset at Yaki Point, which was new for me.
On Monday (March 11), we went to Sunset Crater and Wupatki. Mike and I visited Sunset Crater Volcano in January, but this time we hiked a bit more and also explored the pueblo ruins. This pair of national parks was nuts. It was snow covered at Sunset Crater, but not the slightest evidence of snow up in Wupatki. The views were incredible, as were the hikes-- a very steep stroll up the side of a volcano cone, and a repeat of the good loop around the a'a.
The next day, we took all of Mike's people to Sedona. Katy, Brian, Mike and I hiked the perimeter of Red Rock State Park, like Mike and I did in January. It's such a beautiful park with great views. Hiking all of the trails is just the right amount of challenging-- a good workout, but not so hard that you can't do anything else for the rest of the day. It was nice to repeat this park, too, but we also managed to get in one more trail than we did last time (the Kisva trail along the creek).
It was so cool to show Katy, Brian, and Mike's aunt and uncle around these parks that we liked so much. I never get sick of looking at these crazy rocks, either. It was nice to be able to add new elements to things we already enjoyed, too. This all served as a good foundation for the rest of the week in Utah!
We took Old Route 66 to Topock on our way to Lake Havasu, where we stopped to see the London Bridge, walk along the water, and visit Barley Brothers. It was a lovely drive through the desert. It has "rained" (mostly been overcast and damp, more so than downpour, although the last time the skies deluged on Mohave County) all of three times since I've been here, which has lead to a lot of weird desert grasses growing, and all of the cacti and brush looking less dead, and... a rainbow of wildflowers have sprung up!
After a grand tour of where Mike's been living for the past nine months, we headed east to the Grand Canyon. It had snowed all weekend until we left Bullhead City, so we were greeted with a glorious, heavy, wet snow hanging onto the ponderosa pines in Kaibab National Forest (and thankfully, clear roads!). It was pretty cool to see the difference between summer canyon and winter canyon. The snow made everything very pretty, and it wasn't too cold out to walk around a bit. We mostly strolled along the south rim trail, catching sunset at Yaki Point, which was new for me.
On Monday (March 11), we went to Sunset Crater and Wupatki. Mike and I visited Sunset Crater Volcano in January, but this time we hiked a bit more and also explored the pueblo ruins. This pair of national parks was nuts. It was snow covered at Sunset Crater, but not the slightest evidence of snow up in Wupatki. The views were incredible, as were the hikes-- a very steep stroll up the side of a volcano cone, and a repeat of the good loop around the a'a.
The next day, we took all of Mike's people to Sedona. Katy, Brian, Mike and I hiked the perimeter of Red Rock State Park, like Mike and I did in January. It's such a beautiful park with great views. Hiking all of the trails is just the right amount of challenging-- a good workout, but not so hard that you can't do anything else for the rest of the day. It was nice to repeat this park, too, but we also managed to get in one more trail than we did last time (the Kisva trail along the creek).
It was so cool to show Katy, Brian, and Mike's aunt and uncle around these parks that we liked so much. I never get sick of looking at these crazy rocks, either. It was nice to be able to add new elements to things we already enjoyed, too. This all served as a good foundation for the rest of the week in Utah!
07 March 2013
05 March 2013
next year's geography
Chinook, Montana
+little agricultural town
+far away from everything
+near the Canadian border
-not really utilizing my education
+but I like the work anyway (being a youth director or working with seniors in town)
+and would have more free time to further career-relevant experience on my terms
+small program (two other volunteers)
-far from major airports (making travel to certain beautiful friends' weddings more challenging/expensive)
Boston, Massachusetts
+the food justice program sounds really exciting, and relevant to my skills and interests in a way that compliments what I want to be when I grow up while stretching said skills and interests
+the director is super enthusiastic
-might be difficult to be so close to home without really being able to visit much
+Paul and Laura will be living there
+it's this program's first year so I might be able to help get it off to a good start
-it's this program's first year so it's not especially established
-geographically, just not as attracted to living there as other places
New Orleans, Louisiana
+++the CHART program is in my wheelhouse (wetlands rehabilitation, research, education, outreach)
-that's the only program that's really relevant
+but there's a pretty strong chance I can do that
+I had a really good connection with the site coordinator (and she loves NJ)
+New Orleans seems like a cool new different place to live for a year
+I don't know why I have little else to say about it because the program seems awesome
+little agricultural town
+far away from everything
+near the Canadian border
-not really utilizing my education
+but I like the work anyway (being a youth director or working with seniors in town)
+and would have more free time to further career-relevant experience on my terms
+small program (two other volunteers)
-far from major airports (making travel to certain beautiful friends' weddings more challenging/expensive)
Boston, Massachusetts
+the food justice program sounds really exciting, and relevant to my skills and interests in a way that compliments what I want to be when I grow up while stretching said skills and interests
+the director is super enthusiastic
-might be difficult to be so close to home without really being able to visit much
+Paul and Laura will be living there
+it's this program's first year so I might be able to help get it off to a good start
-it's this program's first year so it's not especially established
-geographically, just not as attracted to living there as other places
New Orleans, Louisiana
+++the CHART program is in my wheelhouse (wetlands rehabilitation, research, education, outreach)
-that's the only program that's really relevant
+but there's a pretty strong chance I can do that
+I had a really good connection with the site coordinator (and she loves NJ)
+New Orleans seems like a cool new different place to live for a year
+I don't know why I have little else to say about it because the program seems awesome
26 February 2013
Progress
Yesterday's facebook status alarmed my mother:
Area of growth goal of the moment: realizing I can't do everything. I can do anything, but I can't do everything, and that is a huge challenge for me to recognize.
I wasn't with her, but I bet it went something like this:
1. WHO IS THIS CHILD this is not my child
2. OH NO SOMETHING IS WRONG WHAT CAN'T SHE DO
3. Maybe she's growing up?
4. What's wrong? What can't she do?
5. TOLD YOU SO.
I love my mom. She and my grandmother did tell me so, many times over. I had to come to it on my own though, and I'm trying to. Honest. I'm making a concerted effort to be conscious of this and decisive about things.
This came very specifically from having a lot of decisions to make at once right now about my life now and next year and sharing a geography with Mike and not and working and traveling and not. Last time I had a lot of important decisions to make all at once, I made them in the wrong order and ended up unemployed and very, very frustrated (though I also ended up out west, which aside from being frustrated with myself over these things, has been really cool).
What are these new and crazy and all at once decisions? I applied to YAV a while back, seeing it as a viable option to get my butt back to Africa and do some service. It's a yearlong service program through the Presbyterian Church (USA). My intake interview was just a week ago, but so much has changed. I was very narrowly focused on Kenya and East Africa, but am now looking at final interviews in Boston, New Orleans and Chinook, MT.
It's me, so I made a list of decisions I was working on, which prompted that facebook post.
Progress, and more decisions to come.
Area of growth goal of the moment: realizing I can't do everything. I can do anything, but I can't do everything, and that is a huge challenge for me to recognize.
I wasn't with her, but I bet it went something like this:
1. WHO IS THIS CHILD this is not my child
2. OH NO SOMETHING IS WRONG WHAT CAN'T SHE DO
3. Maybe she's growing up?
4. What's wrong? What can't she do?
5. TOLD YOU SO.
I love my mom. She and my grandmother did tell me so, many times over. I had to come to it on my own though, and I'm trying to. Honest. I'm making a concerted effort to be conscious of this and decisive about things.
This came very specifically from having a lot of decisions to make at once right now about my life now and next year and sharing a geography with Mike and not and working and traveling and not. Last time I had a lot of important decisions to make all at once, I made them in the wrong order and ended up unemployed and very, very frustrated (though I also ended up out west, which aside from being frustrated with myself over these things, has been really cool).
What are these new and crazy and all at once decisions? I applied to YAV a while back, seeing it as a viable option to get my butt back to Africa and do some service. It's a yearlong service program through the Presbyterian Church (USA). My intake interview was just a week ago, but so much has changed. I was very narrowly focused on Kenya and East Africa, but am now looking at final interviews in Boston, New Orleans and Chinook, MT.
It's me, so I made a list of decisions I was working on, which prompted that facebook post.
- Chinook or New Orleans or Boston
- go to the in-person interviews (not required for domestic placements) in Kentucky, or go to Zion and Bryce when Mike's cousin visits us for spring break
- what to do this summer
Progress, and more decisions to come.
25 February 2013
Mojave Desert
We've taken to adding a prefix to anything we (Mike, his fellow teachers and I) don't understand: "weird desert ______". It's fitting, especially given some of the crazy and beautiful things I saw in the Mojave Desert last weekend.
Last Saturday, a few of us went to Joshua Tree National Park. The drive there down CA-95 was nauseating, not in appearance, but in the up and down and up and down and up and down of the road. We're not even talking serious mountains here, just a road that dipped and rolled with a horizon that looks deceptively flat. I'm to blame for the route though. I picked it because Google Maps suggested it took the same amount of time as the bigger highway, and figured it'd be more scenic. It was actually really interesting to look at-- desert as far as you could see, which I'm learning includes a lot of weird desert plants, more than I ever would have guessed. The southwest is actually not like the Sahara, I've learned.
Something we thought was especially interesting was that as we paralleled the train tracks, was this intricate sort of graffiti made out of sticks and different colored rocks. People's initials, dates, names, images. I've never really seen that before.
California Route 62 drives along the edge of Joshua Tree National Park for a while, but not one Joshua Tree was spotted until we were well within the other side of the park near Twentynine Palms, CA. They are almost Dr. Seuss like. I can only imagine their weird shapes are a long-perfected adaptation to windthrow or something, knowing that root systems and branches have some balance to them. The weirder looking their crowns, perhaps the weirder looking and more anchored the roots? I don't know. They were really bizarre but very, very cool to stare at as we hiked and visited different parts of the park.
In addition to weird desert trees, the geology in the park was pretty weird looking. Everything was smooth and rounded and curved, as though a child was given some green, brown and grey crayons and told to invent a new planet. It was very beautiful, but kind of eery. I've never seen anything else like this place.
We stayed in Barstow, and the next day, Mike, Dustin, Hannah and I headed to Death Valley National Park. My ears rejoiced as we hit sea level, and despite how hot it was at -282 feet (close to 90 degrees till the sun began to decline), it was a really cool place. You can see snow capped Telescope Peak (part of the range that Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the continental US is in) from the salt flats in Badwater Basin (the lowest point in the US). There were mountains in every color, a stunning natural bridge, weird salt formations, and of course, weird desert plants. I was amazed at how much was growing in the park (not much, but more than nothing).
After a good rest in Pahrump, NV (another weird desert gambling town) we spent the next day meandering back to Bullhead City, with a stop at Red Rock Canyon just outside of Las Vegas. This place was really beautiful, and really unexpected. For one, the desert heading into Vegas seems so barren and empty (although we were proven wrong later, there are way more plants, including Joshua Trees, visible when you drive south from Vegas during daylight); the desert in this park had a lot of weird desert plants, and even some wild horses. Again, the rocks came in every color, and the wind erosion created some really great rock scrambles. We were able to sit pretty high on top of some red rocks and have a great view of the place.
The drive back to Bullhead City was pretty direct, but like I said, we saw way more plants than we knew were there. Having only flown into Vegas at night, I've seen some of the brush by the road, but it mostly looks like you're on the moon when you drive through the Mojave Desert. It turns out, the incredible darkness of the desert is hiding all sorts of yucca, Joshua trees, distant mountains, and other weird desert things. Really cool. Well, warm, it is February, and it is up over 60 degrees most days already...
Last Saturday, a few of us went to Joshua Tree National Park. The drive there down CA-95 was nauseating, not in appearance, but in the up and down and up and down and up and down of the road. We're not even talking serious mountains here, just a road that dipped and rolled with a horizon that looks deceptively flat. I'm to blame for the route though. I picked it because Google Maps suggested it took the same amount of time as the bigger highway, and figured it'd be more scenic. It was actually really interesting to look at-- desert as far as you could see, which I'm learning includes a lot of weird desert plants, more than I ever would have guessed. The southwest is actually not like the Sahara, I've learned.
Something we thought was especially interesting was that as we paralleled the train tracks, was this intricate sort of graffiti made out of sticks and different colored rocks. People's initials, dates, names, images. I've never really seen that before.
California Route 62 drives along the edge of Joshua Tree National Park for a while, but not one Joshua Tree was spotted until we were well within the other side of the park near Twentynine Palms, CA. They are almost Dr. Seuss like. I can only imagine their weird shapes are a long-perfected adaptation to windthrow or something, knowing that root systems and branches have some balance to them. The weirder looking their crowns, perhaps the weirder looking and more anchored the roots? I don't know. They were really bizarre but very, very cool to stare at as we hiked and visited different parts of the park.
In addition to weird desert trees, the geology in the park was pretty weird looking. Everything was smooth and rounded and curved, as though a child was given some green, brown and grey crayons and told to invent a new planet. It was very beautiful, but kind of eery. I've never seen anything else like this place.
We stayed in Barstow, and the next day, Mike, Dustin, Hannah and I headed to Death Valley National Park. My ears rejoiced as we hit sea level, and despite how hot it was at -282 feet (close to 90 degrees till the sun began to decline), it was a really cool place. You can see snow capped Telescope Peak (part of the range that Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the continental US is in) from the salt flats in Badwater Basin (the lowest point in the US). There were mountains in every color, a stunning natural bridge, weird salt formations, and of course, weird desert plants. I was amazed at how much was growing in the park (not much, but more than nothing).
After a good rest in Pahrump, NV (another weird desert gambling town) we spent the next day meandering back to Bullhead City, with a stop at Red Rock Canyon just outside of Las Vegas. This place was really beautiful, and really unexpected. For one, the desert heading into Vegas seems so barren and empty (although we were proven wrong later, there are way more plants, including Joshua Trees, visible when you drive south from Vegas during daylight); the desert in this park had a lot of weird desert plants, and even some wild horses. Again, the rocks came in every color, and the wind erosion created some really great rock scrambles. We were able to sit pretty high on top of some red rocks and have a great view of the place.
The drive back to Bullhead City was pretty direct, but like I said, we saw way more plants than we knew were there. Having only flown into Vegas at night, I've seen some of the brush by the road, but it mostly looks like you're on the moon when you drive through the Mojave Desert. It turns out, the incredible darkness of the desert is hiding all sorts of yucca, Joshua trees, distant mountains, and other weird desert things. Really cool. Well, warm, it is February, and it is up over 60 degrees most days already...
21 February 2013
Won't you get hip to this timely tip:
Get your kicks on Route 66!
I've been meaning to take one of the "primitive roads" in the area for a while, just to explore the desert a little. I've also been curious about more of Old Route 66, so it was all too perfect when my Grandma Day mailed me an article that she thought I'd like (I love when she does this): The Mystique of Route 66 from Smithsonian Magazine. (That article is really great, and I've been to most of those places in Arizona.) Consider me inspired.
I've driven some of Old Route 66 before, up to Peach Springs and the entire length of it in Illinois. I definitely dig it as a slice of Americana, but I think today's adventure really kind of solidified my affinity for this road.
Today I took a primitive road from Bullhead City to Oatman, and hopped on Old Route 66 (a BLM Backcountry Byway!) for just about 30 miles of hairpin turns and switchbacks through high desert and desert valley. It was a really pretty drive, and I barely saw anyone until the road paralleled the Santa Fe Railroad and wound into Kingman. There's not much out there-- a little general store about halfway along that advertised sodas and souvenirs and had a port-a-potty in the parking lot, an assisted living home (really just a small ranch house), several long lines of mailboxes with no homes in sight, countless "primitive roads", and a lot of desert plants thanks to the recent rain (or snow, depending on the elevation).
I actually came back to town via Old 66 too, but it felt way shorter despite stopping more. There were a few pullouts along the way, including one that had some old steps carved into the side of a stony hill-- I clearly stopped to climb up and check the view (it was lovely). Back in Oatman, the burros were down from the mountains, and I enjoyed seeing them again, especially the little baby guy, who's bulked up a lot! I paid a little more attention to the rest of Oatman now that I've been there a few times. I have a new favorite road--
View Larger Map
You probably can't read that sign, but it says Snob Hill Road. Really. In a tiny, sparsely populated village with mostly rundown trailers, Snob Hill. I laughed.
Now I really want to drive more of Old Route 66, The Mother Road. Obvious short-term solution: from Oatman to the California border (Needles), which would include driving through the Havasu National Wildlife Refuge. I felt pretty darn American, driving down the road, Coca-Cola in hand, listening to Ray Charles sing "America the Beautiful".
I've been meaning to take one of the "primitive roads" in the area for a while, just to explore the desert a little. I've also been curious about more of Old Route 66, so it was all too perfect when my Grandma Day mailed me an article that she thought I'd like (I love when she does this): The Mystique of Route 66 from Smithsonian Magazine. (That article is really great, and I've been to most of those places in Arizona.) Consider me inspired.
I've driven some of Old Route 66 before, up to Peach Springs and the entire length of it in Illinois. I definitely dig it as a slice of Americana, but I think today's adventure really kind of solidified my affinity for this road.
Today I took a primitive road from Bullhead City to Oatman, and hopped on Old Route 66 (a BLM Backcountry Byway!) for just about 30 miles of hairpin turns and switchbacks through high desert and desert valley. It was a really pretty drive, and I barely saw anyone until the road paralleled the Santa Fe Railroad and wound into Kingman. There's not much out there-- a little general store about halfway along that advertised sodas and souvenirs and had a port-a-potty in the parking lot, an assisted living home (really just a small ranch house), several long lines of mailboxes with no homes in sight, countless "primitive roads", and a lot of desert plants thanks to the recent rain (or snow, depending on the elevation).
I actually came back to town via Old 66 too, but it felt way shorter despite stopping more. There were a few pullouts along the way, including one that had some old steps carved into the side of a stony hill-- I clearly stopped to climb up and check the view (it was lovely). Back in Oatman, the burros were down from the mountains, and I enjoyed seeing them again, especially the little baby guy, who's bulked up a lot! I paid a little more attention to the rest of Oatman now that I've been there a few times. I have a new favorite road--
View Larger Map
You probably can't read that sign, but it says Snob Hill Road. Really. In a tiny, sparsely populated village with mostly rundown trailers, Snob Hill. I laughed.
Now I really want to drive more of Old Route 66, The Mother Road. Obvious short-term solution: from Oatman to the California border (Needles), which would include driving through the Havasu National Wildlife Refuge. I felt pretty darn American, driving down the road, Coca-Cola in hand, listening to Ray Charles sing "America the Beautiful".
19 February 2013
those shoulders
Today would have been my Aunt Janet's 54th anniversary with my Uncle Fred, whose great legacy gave me a final push to apply to a mission program.
Appropriately, today was my interview, which was really just the first of many conversations along the way through a "mutual discernment process". It was a good talk that lead me in a direction I didn't particularly expect, but I think it's good.
I'm thankful for this possible opportunity, and as always, thankful for the love from and within my great family.
Appropriately, today was my interview, which was really just the first of many conversations along the way through a "mutual discernment process". It was a good talk that lead me in a direction I didn't particularly expect, but I think it's good.
I'm thankful for this possible opportunity, and as always, thankful for the love from and within my great family.
04 February 2013
The Geography of Cousins
These thoughts occurred to me a few weeks after arriving in Arizona:
Almost all of my cousins (and there are more than 30, including in-laws) live in New Jersey. Well, almost all of my family (including aunts, uncles, grandparents and my immediate family, that puts the count well over 60) lives in New Jersey. And until very recently, I'd lived there for all but college (four wonderful years in Virginia!).
I always liked New Jersey, but something about being teased about my "homeland" in college, and then returning back to NJ into a graduate program in which hardly anyone else was from NJ, made me really defensive about my love of my home. I think the actor Zach Braff said it well, "I think when you come from a place that's made fun of your whole life... and you love it, you get defensive, and you want to sing its praises to people. I love New Jersey. I think it's made me who I am."
So back to my cousins-- there are very few who live outside of New Jersey: the Virginia cousins, the Kentucky cousin and her family, and I have another Virginia cousin and her family who I haven't seen in a long time, and a cousin in Tennessee with his family who I haven't seen in even longer, and a couple of cousins right over the border into Pennsylvania. But yeah, a lot of family in New Jersey.
Thanks to the marvelous internet and my lot of free time, I've been able to talk to some of my cousins (and a lot of other wonderful people in a lot of places!) more lately. But I think about that, and I think about how I label them by where they are in my head, and wonder, wait a second... am I the Arizona cousin?
Good grief, that can't be right. No. Can't be. I've been here a month now, but it's not like I've got an Arizona license, or changed my address or anything. And goodness knows I've got proof I'm from New Jersey.
Or I like this one better that my older brother edited:
(Hey, I'm not the only one whose love of New Jersey is... strong.)
I'm probably not the Arizona cousin, because it hasn't been that long and it isn't forever. Also, I'm the cousin who routinely gets asked where I'm off to next, so I'm not even sure I'm the/a New Jersey cousin so much as the nomadic relative that no one can particularly keep track of.
I guess what I realized through this stream of consciousness is, my sense of place is out of whack these days. "Sense of place" is one of those squishy geography things that I was terrified to teach in Human Geography last fall, but turned out to be one of the best conversations we had in class all semester. The term "place" implies some sort of charisma or meaning or uniqueness to it, giving it a more particular definition than the more vague "space" or the only spatially specific "location". (See, I learned things too when I taught.) On the other hand is "placelessness" which is what happens when the uniqueness of a place is replaced with repetitive, uninteresting, indistinguishable scenery, thus losing its meaning.
So my out of whack sense of place is coming from feeling this great love for and connection with New Jersey, and not being there, and not feeling such a personal attachment to Arizona, but being here. I mean, Arizona has been a pretty cool adventure so far (NRCS outings, London Bridge, tree rocks, red rocks, volcanic rocks, burros, new environments to explore and ask questions about in general). But it's not home, and knowing that it's only temporary is really going to prevent me from getting used to it and feeling any sort of settled here.
And I can't think of it as more than temporary because both Mike and I prefer the east coast. We like our families. We like our friends. We like the ocean and the forests. But in the meantime, here we are. I like to think that I'll figure out what's next for me soon, and then we can figure out what to do as a team.
And in the meantime, I'm pretty sure I'm not the Arizona cousin, but rather the cousin who is in Arizona... for now. But there are a lot of really exciting possibilities for the future, and I probably don't even know half of them. And that's kind of exciting in and of itself, but that unknown is also kind of affecting my personal sense of place. I guess that's not an entirely bad thing though. It's kind of become its own adventure, figuring out what my adventure is going to be...
Almost all of my cousins (and there are more than 30, including in-laws) live in New Jersey. Well, almost all of my family (including aunts, uncles, grandparents and my immediate family, that puts the count well over 60) lives in New Jersey. And until very recently, I'd lived there for all but college (four wonderful years in Virginia!).
I always liked New Jersey, but something about being teased about my "homeland" in college, and then returning back to NJ into a graduate program in which hardly anyone else was from NJ, made me really defensive about my love of my home. I think the actor Zach Braff said it well, "I think when you come from a place that's made fun of your whole life... and you love it, you get defensive, and you want to sing its praises to people. I love New Jersey. I think it's made me who I am."
So back to my cousins-- there are very few who live outside of New Jersey: the Virginia cousins, the Kentucky cousin and her family, and I have another Virginia cousin and her family who I haven't seen in a long time, and a cousin in Tennessee with his family who I haven't seen in even longer, and a couple of cousins right over the border into Pennsylvania. But yeah, a lot of family in New Jersey.
Thanks to the marvelous internet and my lot of free time, I've been able to talk to some of my cousins (and a lot of other wonderful people in a lot of places!) more lately. But I think about that, and I think about how I label them by where they are in my head, and wonder, wait a second... am I the Arizona cousin?
Good grief, that can't be right. No. Can't be. I've been here a month now, but it's not like I've got an Arizona license, or changed my address or anything. And goodness knows I've got proof I'm from New Jersey.
Or I like this one better that my older brother edited:
(Hey, I'm not the only one whose love of New Jersey is... strong.)
I'm probably not the Arizona cousin, because it hasn't been that long and it isn't forever. Also, I'm the cousin who routinely gets asked where I'm off to next, so I'm not even sure I'm the/a New Jersey cousin so much as the nomadic relative that no one can particularly keep track of.
I guess what I realized through this stream of consciousness is, my sense of place is out of whack these days. "Sense of place" is one of those squishy geography things that I was terrified to teach in Human Geography last fall, but turned out to be one of the best conversations we had in class all semester. The term "place" implies some sort of charisma or meaning or uniqueness to it, giving it a more particular definition than the more vague "space" or the only spatially specific "location". (See, I learned things too when I taught.) On the other hand is "placelessness" which is what happens when the uniqueness of a place is replaced with repetitive, uninteresting, indistinguishable scenery, thus losing its meaning.
So my out of whack sense of place is coming from feeling this great love for and connection with New Jersey, and not being there, and not feeling such a personal attachment to Arizona, but being here. I mean, Arizona has been a pretty cool adventure so far (NRCS outings, London Bridge, tree rocks, red rocks, volcanic rocks, burros, new environments to explore and ask questions about in general). But it's not home, and knowing that it's only temporary is really going to prevent me from getting used to it and feeling any sort of settled here.
And I can't think of it as more than temporary because both Mike and I prefer the east coast. We like our families. We like our friends. We like the ocean and the forests. But in the meantime, here we are. I like to think that I'll figure out what's next for me soon, and then we can figure out what to do as a team.
And in the meantime, I'm pretty sure I'm not the Arizona cousin, but rather the cousin who is in Arizona... for now. But there are a lot of really exciting possibilities for the future, and I probably don't even know half of them. And that's kind of exciting in and of itself, but that unknown is also kind of affecting my personal sense of place. I guess that's not an entirely bad thing though. It's kind of become its own adventure, figuring out what my adventure is going to be...
03 February 2013
Oatman
About 15 miles southeast of Bullhead City is "the ghost town that just won't die"-- Oatman, Arizona.
Of course, it takes way longer to get there than you'd think. There are two options: it's 13 miles down the road from Mike's school (which is about a half hour away) (so 27 miles/45 minutes total), or there's an unpaved county highway directly from Bullhead City that's 10.5 miles shorter but takes almost an hour, according to Google maps. We took the paved route, but it still felt like we were driving to another time and place altogether.
It's a pretty clear view from Mike's school to the mountains to the east, so we were wondering where this little town would pop up. Turns out it was hidden behind a small ridge after the road we were on connected with Old US-66... having driven across it across Illinois and elsewhere around Arizona, I've seen some of the bigger, more developed parts, but man, it is just a windy little road that is barely paved when it goes through Oatman. I imagine driving the whole thing would be really cool and interesting though.
It was a quiet morning out in Oatman. We probably saw 8-10 burros wandering around, apparently descendents of the beasts of burden brought to the area by early settlers. The town was named for one settler in particular, Olive Oatman, whose life was for some reason spared when the rest of her family was killed by one of the local tribes. She was traded to the Mohave people, who tattooed her face and apparently treated her fairly well, and was eventually traded back to a white fort for some blankets and horses.
We had an early "lunch" of fry bread and Sarsaparilla at a little inn in town, and just wandered up and down the main street to see the burros and people watch a little. It's a quiet tourist area. We were also there on the early side. Passed a lot of cars heading in that direction as we went back to Bullhead to do some grocery shopping. It was a nice change of scenery though, and I loved loved loved the little baby burro (burrito?):
I know it looks dead, but it was just napping.
I think I might go back via the dirt road next time I have the car...
Of course, it takes way longer to get there than you'd think. There are two options: it's 13 miles down the road from Mike's school (which is about a half hour away) (so 27 miles/45 minutes total), or there's an unpaved county highway directly from Bullhead City that's 10.5 miles shorter but takes almost an hour, according to Google maps. We took the paved route, but it still felt like we were driving to another time and place altogether.
It's a pretty clear view from Mike's school to the mountains to the east, so we were wondering where this little town would pop up. Turns out it was hidden behind a small ridge after the road we were on connected with Old US-66... having driven across it across Illinois and elsewhere around Arizona, I've seen some of the bigger, more developed parts, but man, it is just a windy little road that is barely paved when it goes through Oatman. I imagine driving the whole thing would be really cool and interesting though.
It was a quiet morning out in Oatman. We probably saw 8-10 burros wandering around, apparently descendents of the beasts of burden brought to the area by early settlers. The town was named for one settler in particular, Olive Oatman, whose life was for some reason spared when the rest of her family was killed by one of the local tribes. She was traded to the Mohave people, who tattooed her face and apparently treated her fairly well, and was eventually traded back to a white fort for some blankets and horses.
We had an early "lunch" of fry bread and Sarsaparilla at a little inn in town, and just wandered up and down the main street to see the burros and people watch a little. It's a quiet tourist area. We were also there on the early side. Passed a lot of cars heading in that direction as we went back to Bullhead to do some grocery shopping. It was a nice change of scenery though, and I loved loved loved the little baby burro (burrito?):
I know it looks dead, but it was just napping.
I think I might go back via the dirt road next time I have the car...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
