The magic is in the hole

At 10:15pm on Tuesday March 30th, my train left Emeryville, CA for Portland, OR. In addition to the beautiful landscape, I also noticed more nerds on this train than usual; passengers were reading comics, talking about javascript, and watching Battlestar Galactica on their laptops. This was not surprising, as the headquarters for Darkhorse Comics is a stone's throw away from Portland, but it was refreshing none-the-less.

On Wednesday March 31st, I explored the Portland neighborhood of Sellwood, which was a wonderful fusion of hippie and geek culture.

On Thursday April 1st, I went to Things From Another World, the comic book store owned and run by Darkhorse Comics in the neighboring town of Milwaukee, OR. Although well-stocked, browsing was made difficult by the fact that most of the comics were just like Laura Palmer; wrapped in plastic.

That night, my host and I enjoyed dinner and drinks at the Muddy Rudder, a pub with live music and a friendly atmosphere which reminded me of similar establishments in Vermont. In fact, I think it was at this point that I decided that Oregon just might be the Vermont of the West Coast.

On Friday April 2nd, my host and I met some of my friends at Slappy Cakes, a diner where we drank cocktails and made pancakes on a hibachi grill.

I had a drink called Whiskey For Breakfast.

Afterward, I decided to make my way downtown in search of the highly praised Voodoo Doughnut's. In retrospect, I shouldn't have walked most the two miles between the establishments because, by the time I got there, the cold drizzle had turned into cold rain (my most hated of all weather types) and I was so grumpy and tired that I was ready to call it a night. However, it was absolutely worth it for a chance to try their Cap'n Crunch doughnut.

Pic stolen from this guy.

When I tried to go back on Saturday to get some more for my train ride, the line for Voodoo Doughnuts was out the door and down the block. While I don't think their regular glazed doughnuts are as good as Krispy Kreme's, everything else they make is head-and-shoulders above any other doughnut I've ever tried. Definitely check that place out if you're ever in Portland (or Oregon, even).

I must say, I really enjoyed everything about Portland except for the weather. Give me four feet of snow and a -30 degree windchill before cold rain any day (honestly, dampness makes me feel much colder). Aside from that, though, eating cheaply and well in one of the world's most sustainable cities was pretty awesome, especially considering how friendly and grounded most of the people were. I'll definitely visit Portland again next time I'm in the Pacific Northwest.

At 4:45pm on Saturday April 3rd, I began my 47 hour train ride from Portland, OR to Chicago, IL, but that's a story for my next post.

I can't think of a good April Fools joke so let's just move on

I arrived in Emeryville, CA at 4:45pm on Saturday March 27th. My host and I spent my first evening in San Francisco catching up and drinking entirely too much wine. The next day, as we walked around Golden Gate Park, I discovered that the Bay Area was the perfect place to be hungover because no one else had any more energy or drive than I did.

A beach near Golden Gate Park.


The tulip garden in Golden Gate Park.


Golden Gate Park.


The Conservatory of Flowers in Golden Gate Park.

While I appreciated the reminder that the Boston/NYC attitude of "Hurry up! I've got places to be!" is needlessly stressful most of the time, something about San Francisco just didn't set right with me. I think this had to do with the fact that everyone managed to be happy and laid-back without also being friendly. Additionally, there are a crazy amount of homeless people; I assumed that there only seemed to be more than in Boston or New York City, as the warmer weather would make it very easy for homeless people to stay outside in San Francisco and therefore be more visible. Then I read the Wikipedia page on homelessness in America:

The city of San Francisco, California, due to its mild climate and its social programs that have provided cash payments for homeless individuals, is often considered the homelessness capital of the United States. The city's homeless population has been estimated at 7,000-10,000 people, of which approximately 3,000-5,000 refuse shelter. The city spends $200 million a year on homelessness related programs. It is believed that New York, which is 10 times as large in population, has only few hundred more chronically homeless individuals.

That's pretty intense. Another thing that disturbed me (and I'm not claiming that these two social issues are correlated) was the shocking lack of policing. Now, I'm not in favor of wasting police time and jail space on prostitutes and potheads, but violent crime's another matter. I balked when my cousin in San Francisco informed me that only 30% of their city's murder cases get closed, compared to the national average of 61% in 2007 (figures from here).

As an aside, this pic sums up my views on the Haight-Ashbury area:

I left the Bay Area for Portland, OR at 10:00pm on Tuesday March 30th, but that's a story for my next post.

A few of my favorite things

I was so focused on racial and economic issues in my last post that I totally forgot to include this video of my host in Santa Fe trying to teach me how to cook with fire:

Heh, anyway, I arrived in Denver, CO at 10:30am on Wednesday March 24th, about 12 hours later than planned due to a pretty intense snow storm. My host and I continued north to Boulder, where the two feet of snow which had covered Colorado the night before was already mostly melted due to the elevation and the sudden 60 degree weather. This meteorological tendency combined with the beautiful landscape, friendly liberals, and prevalence of good breweries makes Boulder a utopian paradise to me.

Enjoying a growler of beer from the Mountain Sun Pub & Brew.

On Thursday March 25th, I got a haircut at the Lather Salon. This might not sound particularly interesting, but indulge me this retelling:

WOMEN BEHIND THE FRONT DESK: So you're ten minutes early, would you like a beer or glass of wine or anything?
ME: ...yes. Um, the wine. What's the minimum purchase for using a credit card?
WBTFD: Oh, it's on us.
ME: Oh! I - cool.
WBTFD: Well, it's not the best wine in the world or anything, but it's good chilled.
ME: Awesome. Um, is that a Wii?
WBTFD: Yes.
ME: ...can I play it?
WBTFD: That's what it's there for!

Lather Salon in Boulder, CO.

Did I mention that my haircut cost $35? And they did a good job, too:

The crazy part is that my cousin who I'm currently staying with in San Francisco is friends with the woman who owns and runs the Lather Salon (I had no idea of this until after I'd already arrived in California).

In any case, as my stay in Boulder was unfortunately brief, here are some picks from the Colorado portion of the 32 hour train ride from Denver, CO to Emeryville, CA:

In my next post, I'll explore the Bay Area of California.

I knew I shoulda taken a left turn at Albuquerque...

I arrived in Santa Fe, NM at 7:30pm on Thursday March 18th. Although the landscape was absolutely beautiful, I quickly discovered that the city itself was dominated by wealthy, middle-aged art collectors. I have no use for that crowd, but luckily I was able to find the Santa Fe Brewing Co., which had a great atmosphere and delicious beer. I highly recommend checking it out if you're ever in Santa Fe.

Big Five Sampler tray.

On Sunday March 21st, I visited the Cochiti Pueblo on the Cochiti reservation, which was definitely the most depressing part of my trip so far. While the Cochiti Pueblo didn't appear to be any more impoverished than many of the small rundown towns I'd driven through in New Mexico, there didn't seem to be many businesses around to help improve things. From what I've read, the only sources of income for the Cochiti are from the land they lease to the small Town of Cochiti Lake, the revenue they get from their golf course, and the sales of "Indian wares" to white tourists in Santa Fe and Albuquerque. That last one might sound like a sweet gig, since we all know how liberal white people will happily empty their wallets for anything that's "genuinely Indian made" (which Indians? Who cares! It's authentic and clearly very spiritual), but 21.4% of families in the Cochiti Pueblo remain below the poverty line compared to the national average of 9% (figures from here). Whether that's because only a fraction of the Indian population can live well from selling their crafts or because all Pueblo, Apache, Navajo, etc. craftspeople have to undercut each other in order to scrape by is unclear to me; regardless, watching white tourists ignore this economic reality in favor of viewing Native jewelry and drums as bits of a noble culture they could buy depressed the hell outta me.

The covered walkway along the Portal of the Palace of the Governors in downtown Santa Fe, where Native craftspeople set up shop for tourists every day.

On Monday March 22nd, I explored Albuquerque, NM. While I enjoyed the area around the University of New Mexico, I couldn't find a part of that city which was not a strip mall. The ubiquitous pavement resulted in an oppressive heat that I couldn't imagine enduring in the summer, let alone March. Unless I was a student or employee of UNM, I can't think of a reason I'd spend more than an afternoon in Albuquerque.

Drive-thru tobacconist.


These assholes are everywhere in New Mexico.


A megachurch in an old theater? Oh, that's too easy.


An awesome house I stumbled across.


...with dinosaur statues in the front lawn!

I also checked out two comic book stores, one of which had a gorgeous mural on one side that would lose a lot if I posted a tiny version of it in this post. Luckily, you can view the original here.

After returning my rental car to the Santa Fe Airport that night, I packed up my things and got ready for my bus and train ride to Boulder, CO. But that's a story for my next post.

(Not) Of this world

Last year, I spent St. Patrick's Day drinking Irish Car Bombs and watching "MacGyver" with my roommate and his girlfriend. This year, I spent it exploring the lava beds near Carrizozo, NM.

Katie the Intrepid Explorer

It's amazing to me how many plants and animals thrive amongst volcanic rock. Salamanders scurried across my path as I walked and I even glimpsed a ring-tailed cat before it darted between the rocks. I considered spending the night at the Valley of Fires campground until I saw the sign about not provoking the tarantulas.

On my way to Roswell I stopped in Carrizozo, the rundown home of the brewery which made the bland beer I'd had the night before.

I'm not entirely clear if this museum used to be a food locker or currently doubles as one.


The Ben Franklin Post Apocalypse Reclamation Center and Typewriter Repair Co. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

That night I checked into a cheap motel in Roswell, NM. My neighbors were loud and the wifi was spotty, so I just curled up with another bland beer and watched DS9 on my laptop until I was ready to sleep.

The next morning, I decided to photograph everything I saw in downtown Roswell that was alien-themed. This task proved to be way too time consuming, however, so here are the highlights:

The 12 year old "X-Files" fan inside of me was jumping for joy (you'd think my stomach acids would've broken him down by now). I decided it was about time I checked out the UFO Museum and Research Center.

Serious business.

For the record, I think it's safe to assume that there's other intelligent life in the universe (it's a big place, after all). I also don't think it's fair to immediately write-off every person who claims to have seen a ufo or be an abductee. As with folk who've had spiritual or religious experiences, I generally believe them when they tell me they've seen or experienced something. Whether the nature of that something lines up with what they think it does is another matter; one which can only be sussed out through objective investigation. That being said, this museum had all the scientific credibility of an elementary school diorama.

Wall o' Blurry Photos


"Proof" of ancient tribal contact with aliens.


The costumes and props from the 1994 TV movie Roswell, which the museum plays once a day.


My photo of an exhibit with a photo of said exhibit hanging beneath it.

After I'd had my fill of the UFO Museum, I walked across the street to the Not Of This World Cafe for some lunch and free wifi. Although I noticed an awful lot of Christian tchotchkes while I ate my delicious egg, cheese, and green chili sandwich, I didn't realize that the cafe was the new Alien Resistance headquarters until I was already half way to Santa Fe. Next time I'm anywhere near Roswell, I need to stop by again for more tasty food and a lecture on aliens sent from Jesus.

In my next post, I'll cover my explorations of Santa Fe and the surrounding area.

Abandoned or preserved

On Tuesday March 16th, I left the Gila National Forest in search of a ghost town and a hot spring.

This state is too god damned beautiful to stay in the car.

The Lake Valley ghost town off of Route 27 was practically on my way, so I decided to check it out. Ignoring the "Closed to the public on Tuesdays and Wednesdays" sign just enhanced the creepiness.

The only problem I found with exploring Lake Valley on my own was that I had no guide to explain the presence of a few houses which had clearly been lived in recently. Not knowing that, despite half a century of dwindling prosperity, the last Lake Valley resident had not abandoned their property until 1994 meant that every porch with rotting couches from the 80's sent chills down my spine (not to mention that banjo tune from Deliverance into my head). I kept my distance from these inexplicably modern houses and took my pictures quickly, finding solace in the fact that there was no cover in these wide open plains (being an easy target just means that no one can sneak up on you).

After leaving Lake Valley, I headed north to Truth or Consequences, a small town known for its naturally occurring hot springs and for changing its name to that of a radio quiz show (in 1950, the host had agreed to air his then-popular show from the first town to change its name to "Truth or Consequences"). Unfortunately, I was unable to find a hot spring which had not been incorporated into a pricey hotel or spa, so I ended up just doing my laundry there. As the sun began to set, I made my way to Elephant Butte Lake State Park to spend the night by the shores of the Rio Grande.

Enjoying a bland New Mexican beer and If Chins Could Kill before falling asleep in my car.

I slept pretty badly, but the price was right. Plus, I got to wake up to this:

I began my St. Patrick's Day by driving to the Basque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge near San Antonio, NM.

Since most of this Wildlife Refuge was designed to be driven around, I started itching to get outta the damn rental car and stretch my legs. Luckily, I found a trail through a canyon, but as I approached it I discovered the following flier:

WARNING: NUMEROUS MOUNTAIN LION SIGHTINGS. If you see a mountain lion:
- do not approach it
- do not run away from it
- do not crouch into a ball
- try to appear as large as possible
- do not hike alone

I swallowed hard, but decided the risk was worth what was sure to be a beautiful hike.

Considering I saw not one, not two, but zero mountain lions, I'd say my hike was well worth the risk.

I went on to the Valley of Fires and then Roswell later that night, but that's a story for my next post.