4/18/2013. - Day 23 - More Sunsets. More Joy.

4/18/2013. - Day 23 - More Sunsets. More Joy.



The sun has already risen and bathed the morning in brightness when I awaken. It's still early morning though, and I am up and attempting to get moving on time to make it to Scripps before the low tide turns. I put my swimsuit on under my clothes just to be safe, put on my Keens, and hop into the pickup. On the passenger seat is my Lifeproof case. I'm not planning on diving into the water but it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to utilize that today, so I spend a few seconds fitting the heavy duty protector onto my phone. I plan to travel light, since I will be climbing over several sets of rocks to get to the tide pools. I decide to take nothing besides my phone since I can pack it into my pocket and have my hands free for balance to avoid falling into the water.

I arrive at Scripps near La Jolla Beach and circle the area several times before finding a parking spot about a half mile away. Even in the early morning, surfers snatch up many of the parking spots in efforts to catch the best waves in accordance with the tides. I set out for the rocks and start climbing over the larger ones to get to the area where the smaller rocks harbor the tide pools. All the while I remain watchful for sting rays, as well as octopuses and small sharks, which I was also warned about. Stirring up the shallow water can disturb these creatures and I make the best efforts to avoid areas deeper than a foot so that I always have a clear view of the bottom.

This area has tons of sea anemones, small crabs and snails, and also an abundance of starfish. The starfish here are huge purple, pink, or orange creatures heavily anchored to their surroundings. I am mindful of where I place my hands as I climb around as I have startled a handful of crabs already and do not wish to squish any. There are also birds foraging in the water, searching for those creatures not so lucky to ride out with the tide. I spend the better part of this morning exploring the wonders of the sea.

As the morning begins to give way to the afternoon, surfers pass by on the rocks and families begin to appear in the distance, closer to the beach area. I decide to wrap up my adventure and make my way back to the pickup. The rocks are extremely slippery and even with my Keens on, it's difficult to get my footing. I carefully pick my way from rock to rock, avoiding the quickly rising water between them so that I don't have to worry about what's beneath my feet, lest it be a scary sea creature.

The tide is coming in quickly, and it's harder and harder to find rocks close enough together and dry enough to step on. In trying to stay on the rocks and also keep my eyes out for not only unexplored tide pools but also unexpected sea creatures, I find myself losing my footing frequently. There are other beach combers headed back from the tide pools and as I glance over at a man navigating a bicycle over the last remaining areas of dry sand, I slip on a rock, lose my footing completely, and crash face first into the water. I am startled by the cold water, slightly amused at the spectacle that I am, and relieved that I snapped that Lifeproof case over my iPhone this morning. I should note that I didn't simply fall into the water, but bounced off a few rocks on the way in, meaning I will have lovely coloring by morning in my knee area. It's important to learn to laugh at yourself. And to thank little Baby Jesus that you put your phone cover on before venturing out into a place where your lack or coordination could be detrimental...



I drive back to the hotel to change and search for my dignity. It's my last day in San Diego and it's nice and hot so time outside is a must. I spend part of my afternoon shopping and sight seeing at Seaport Village. There is a carousel here which fulfills my love of these vintage rides and there are plenty of shops to entertain me for a few hours. I spent some time in the sink of a public restroom last time I was here, after failing to check the surface on which I subsequently sat while enjoying the view from the pier. This year, I will not be a victim of fly-by seagull ignorance.








For the final hours of daylight, I decide to seek out a few more shops on Coronado Island. With time to spare before sunset, I find my way to Imperial Beach to relax and reflect. I am impatient. I want to watch the sunset but can hardly sit still long enough for that as I pass my time journaling and daydreaming and basking in the fading rays of sunlight. I think there are things about ourselves that each one of us desperately wishes we could change. Patience is something that I have short amounts of; and while I'd like to change that, it might just be a part of me I have to accept and embrace. I will gladly settle for impatience over some of the worse vices.





As I sit in the sand and watch the surfers gather near the pier under the descending sun, I smile. It's something that has been randomly happening for a few weeks now, this strange sensation on my face where the corners of my mouth turn up into a silly grin and I get a funny feeling inside my stomach like my emotions may burst out at any moment.


Joy.

It strikes me frequently now and I hadn't stopped to recognize it until this moment. I think I had to leave my comfort zone, my planning and structuring and worries and escape the constraints of the "should's" and the "have to's" in order to not only find joy, but realize that I was without it. It's such an incredible feeling when joy takes over and you can't control your smile or the happiness that radiates from your face.

When it first began happening, I think it was so foreign that I was unable to recognize or label it. But I know now. I smile now. And they are genuine, real smiles that come from the tips of my toes and swirl around in my stomach and spill out across my face. They come from driving with the windows down and the music up, coming upon an unexpected beach full of slumbering sea lions, stepping out into an unfamiliar city and feeling the excitement of doing it all solo, and from sitting quietly in the sand and watching the sun set. I decide here and now that I need more of this. More sunsets and more sunrises and more of the little things that I love so much. And more real smiles. Not the kind you force when you feel you have to. But the genuine ones. Sometimes they are small, sometimes silly, or they can be fully cheesed huge grins. But they are real.



I'm smiling as I write this because it's so simple. Find what you love. Maybe you have to find out what you don't love to get there, but find out what you love. And find ways to get more of it in your life. And then watch as you find JOY.

4/17/2013. - Day 22 - Mind on a permanent vacation, the ocean is my only medication. Wishing my condition ain't ever gonna go away.

4/17/2013. - Day 22 - Mind on a permanent vacation, the ocean is my only medication.
Wishing my condition ain't ever gonna go away.

Today's adventure begins at low tide at La Jolla Cove. There is tons to discover this morning in the tide pools, rock caves, and just on the beaches themselves which happen to be occupied by MORE sea lions. The signs at this particular area warn adventurers to stay at least 50 yards away from the sea lions. I could have used this information sooner on my trip.

Tide Pool Life

The tide pools are filled with life and hold starfish, anemones, and small fish. I know enough not to touch the anemones and there is a great deal of slippery rocks to clamber over to get anywhere near most of these treasures, so I am kept at a distance--which in the case of the other wildlife, the sea lions, I am just fine with.

La Jolla Cove

As I explore the cove area, I look out over the water and see two figures swimming, yes swimming, from the distant beach. This is surprising because it's still fairly chilly out so early in the year. The swimmers are moving right through the sea lion territory, and towards the cove. I am intrigued. So many factors here: the water is frigid, there are sea lions all over the place, and who knows what else out there, not to mention it is a considerable distance from the beach to the cove. I wait while the pair makes their way to shore and approach a middle aged woman as she is removing her swim cap and goggles. I inquire about the swim and the sea creatures. She states that she swims every day, not matter the temperature, and loves it. She explains that for the most part the sea animals do not pose a threat, although she does say the sea lions will swim around you and brush up against you, and also tore a splint off of her finger once. She talks about the dolphins swimming with her at times, and also encountering small non aggressive sharks and rays. I am certain at this time I will not be going far into the ocean water even with the ever elusive promise of dolphins.

I ask about nearby tide pools and she points out two areas in the distance that are ripe with sea life. She also warns me to shuffle my feet as I walk in the beach areas to avoid startling sting rays and getting stung. Fantastic. I again make a mental note to try to remember to research local wildlife prior to entering their habitat. So far I am not on a good track record of remembering to do this.



The woman invites me to swim with them tomorrow and indicates the area where they meet in the morning. I tell her I do not think I will be much for swimming but I will certainly be exploring the tide pools. I am in fact a rather awful swimmer, and that's without the freezing water and threat of marine animal attacks. I thank the swimmer and decide to go stake out the areas she indicated would be fruitful with sea life and tide pools. Both are on either side of La Jolla Beach, and within walking distance from the parking lot. The first is near Scripps Park, down past the fishing pier. I survey the area and note that the tide is rapidly coming in so I will have to return in the morning. I walk to the other end of the beach and find a similar situation with the other recommended area. I will return tomorrow after I study the tide tables, something I have learned is very valuable when you are near the ocean if you want to avoid things such as missed wildlife opportunities, soaked beach items, entrapment on sand bars, drowning, etc. Not a bad idea to get a good look at local tide tables in addition to keep tabs on potential wildlife threats.


I do a little shopping in La Jolla, and then move to Mission Beach. It's sunny and gorgeous out and the perfect day for beach hopping. I caught quite a bit of sun earlier at La Jolla, so my stay at Mission Beach is limited, but I do make time for a small amount of shopping. Thus far, I have spent most of my shopping time looking for gifts and precious little on myself. I allow myself a hat from a local boutique so as to embrace my gypsy lifestyle. My thought is it will decrease a need to shower and/or comb my hair which is really just a formality when you are on the road. I pop the hat on and set off.





As I head back I find my way (independent of my GPS I might add) to the Gaslamp Quarter. On my last trip to San Diego, a little over a year ago, I enjoyed the atmosphere of this area and had to return. I spend some time wandering the streets and peeking in store windows and exploring shops. The energy here seems to always be exciting and nostalgic and I absolutely love it. I think I fall in love with San Diego more and more every day.

Fantastic Steak at the Strip Club 

4/16/2013. - Day 21 - Discovered by the Germans in 1904, they named it San Diago...

Orange Ave., Coronado Island

4/16/2013.  - Day 21 - Discovered by the Germans in 1904, they named it San Diago...

My first day in San Diego is hardly productive, or maybe it's just as productive as it's supposed to be.

I sleep in, way in. But it was needed. Later that afternoon I explore Coronado Island for a little sun and shopping. I loved Coronado during my first visit there over a year ago, but didn't have a ton of time to explore. Today is different.

 As has been custom throughout most of this trip, I stash the truck and set out on foot. A random meeting at a crosswalk finds me face to face with Jo-Ann and Beverly, who turn out to be kindred souls to me.

The crosswalk sign blinks a warning not to cross, as I wait in the middle of a four lane road. There is no ongoing traffic in sight. Two ladies wait with me on the median, all of us having made it across the first two lanes. I make a comment to no one in particular that I think we should go for it. We have all hesitated by now though, and likely missed our opportunity, which Jo-Ann quickly points out. She is right. The cars have smelled our fear and are beginning to approach. But the seconds of waiting fly by as we strike up a conversation and continue visiting after we are safe on the other side.

Jo-Ann and Beverly embody true friendship in every meaning of the word and this is blatantly evident in just the mere moments we share together. Decades together has brought them through trials and tribulations, and the experiences they have shared seem to encompass more than one lifetime, as if they have traveled through time itself and managed to live a thousand lives together in just a few decades--all the while supporting and encouraging one another. We chat about everything--from youth, to traveling, jobs, motorcycles, trucks, adventures, boys, and friendship. We cover an entire lifetime of subjects as talk as though we are all old friends. These women inspire in me the strength that was waning a little the last few days, and the assurance that I'm not alone in my endeavors.

Beverly owns a home in Montana, and Jo-Ann, a place in San Diego. They find time to visit one another and have maintained a solid friendship that has stood the test of time and the stress of the busyness of life. As we talk, I wonder aloud if I am a one man wolf pack. Most females have their, dare I use the term "bestie"--and I have begun to worry that I have missed the boat on that. There have been few people who have made it to a status of being "my person," quite a strenuous job, and they have tended to fade away into the distance after a period of time. It's a demanding position, being a "bestie" or someone's "person" and there is a lot of pressure that comes with it.  Also, I don't know that one person is enough to handle all of my randomness and excitement and serious discussions about nothing and silliness. I don't honestly know that I could ask anyone to do that.

I rely mostly on myself and my faith, and a network of friends rather than a single soul to lean on. Still, I see the strangeness in this divergence from mainstream behavior, and I suppose it would be nice to have that one person you could always count on. Perhaps this is why I strive so particularly hard to always be available for my friends in times of need, whether it be night or day, at home or at work, busy or not. I try to always at least be there to listen and offer whatever I can at whatever moment they are in need, because that is what I would want others to do for me. My entire life I have always wanted to be that one person who always says the right thing when you need them too. I want to be everyone's everything in the moment they are in need.

In typing this out, I see several flaws with this quest. The first being that while I always have thegreatest of intentions, I am usually the person who says the worst thing by accident and then feels horrible about it forever. I try too hard, and I am extremely sensitive, always wanting to do the right thing and going around getting my heart broke over silly things. Maybe this blog is a lesson: As I pour my soul into the letters on my keyboard, I am seeing as if for the first time, a bigger picture of my story. I am not meant to have all the answers or give them, nor am I supposed to expect others to always have the answers when I need them. Perhaps, I am supposed to rely more on my Creator rather than turning to human comforts in times of need and remembering only to beg for God's help in times of crisis. It's possible this sudden reflection is a reminder that my faith comes first, and if I can manage that, my troubles and fears and hardships will be taken care of. And ultimately I will devote less time to worry and more time to sharing the joys of life with my friends in lieu of the time we tick away agonizing over the hardships we all encounter.

It sounds so simple and it's great in theory but it's very hard to find the courage to not only believe in this, but to then live it.

Hotel Del Coronado

I make my way to the historic Hotel Del Coronado. When I first saw it, over a year ago, the view was at night and I mistook the festively lit building for a carousel. I was extremely excited as I approached it from afar, anticipating a grand old carousel rotating vintage horses and smiling riders, and boasting old music and the smell of popcorn and the carnival. I was only slightly disappointed when I came upon the hotel and saw it for what it was, because the building itself is truly majestic. On my second trip, it is still light outside and I watch the lucky guests carry their luggage up to the concierge and disappear into the building. It may not be a carousel, but I still find it a bit magical.

From here I drive to Imperial Beach, another favorite from my first trip. I find a place to walk down to the beach and watch the surfers catch the last few waves of the evening as the sun descends, bathing the waves in golden streams that reflect off of the waves like a sparkling chandelier.

Imperial Beach. My favorite <3

I have enjoyed these moments on the trip where I truly have no plan, nowhere to be, no one to meet, and no specific direction. I simply made a spur of the moment decision to come to the beach and sit. No one is waiting for me, no one is impatient and wanting to leave. I don't know if I had a bestie how they would take this unplanned, unstructured, freedom. I also do not know how my future husband is going to cope with my randomness. I pray for him. Well, I pray for him sort of. Sometimes I pray he has enough patience to stand me, and sometimes I pray that he is just as random, whether or not that is a nice to thing wish upon him. I hope he is at least ok with the occasional side trip to the beach to just sit quietly and do nothing but feel the sand between our toes and bask in the last rays of warmth before the sun dips below the surf. I also hope he actually exists and is not in fact a cat.

This blog has now turned into a rom-com. Woof.

 The only other event worth mentioning was an evening trip to Target, and not just any old Target. This was a two story Target. It's official--I've got to live here. Target is really all I need to survive.

Two. Stories.  Two.

I don't know if I have a Jo-Ann to my Beverly. I don't know if I am destined to have a bestie, or "hetero life partner" as my cousin has penned the position. If I am, perhaps like my crosswalk friends, I am supposed to meet them later in life. Or maybe I have already met them but have not put my faith in God, in myself, or in them and allowed them to be there for me. Or maybe I am best with a collection of "bests." I am content with my assorted network of variously talented and unanimously kind and caring friends. I mean, I also hope that someday I run across a man I can tolerate and vice versa; but having truly great girl friends is invaluable. Husbands and boyfriends are useful, but the worth of a good girlfriend cannot be calculated.

In spite of us needing each other, as humans who were not meant to walk alone, I am also embarrassingly proud of my independence. I know that life demands a balance of independence and also allowing others to help us in times of need. But I also think that we have to be completely comfortable in our own skin before one can add all those other characters and steps that make up our ever changing lives. We should be complete individuals in our own being, and then supplement our lives with all the rest of that stuff. That's a hard thing to do because it can be very uncomfortable being alone and just trying to figure out who we are. I think a lot of people try to skip that and look to others to fill in the blanks. But it's a quick fix. As usual, the hardest, most challenging way is also the best way. Kind of like how it's harder to eat vegetables than chocolate but vegetables are better for you? Such a cruel reality.

In this trip, I've had a lot of time to really be uncomfortable in my own skin, find out where my limits are, push them, and then sit back and wait until the uncomfortable turns into the comfortable, and the fear turns into experience. And in these tense moments, I can choose to have faith that things will iron out smoothly, or I can worry and fuss over the wrinkles and make a much worse go of it than necessary trying to straighten everything out.



In the end, I'd rather just go along with the whole thing, wrinkles and all. The journey has sometimes been on the path less traveled. I've had more than my share of wrinkles and even had to patch a few holes along the way--but I think it's better that way. After all, I can arrive on time, prim and proper and neatly pressed--
or I can arrive a little late, a little wrinkled, with a few smudges from unexpected adventures, and have a bit of a story to tell about how they got there.

4/15/2013. - Day 20 - This ain't no disco. And it ain't no country club either. This is L.A.

 Until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard...

 4/15/2013. - Day 20 - This ain't no disco. And it ain't no country club either. This is L.A.

All I wanna do is have a little fun before I die...
This morning starts off amazing because I get to Skype with my mom and my little sisters. They are eagerly showing me their outfits for the day, presenting for my admiration their new books and toys, and singing me their favorite songs. They are beautiful. I spend a bit too much time talking about their favorite colors and the ABCs so I'm slightly rushed to breakfast and checkout. I regret nothing about overindulging in Skype time with my favorite people.

I am becoming fluent in talking to strangers in the hostels, so I make a few friends at breakfast. Steph is from Australia and she offers me a smile and an open seat in the crowded kitchen. I have to inquire, due to the surge of Aussies I have recently met, as to whether or not they all made a plan to rush the West Coast together. We laugh and exchange stories with one another over the meal.

Breakfast is winding down as Steph departs, and before I am finished a young man takes her place. He asks where I am headed (which I have come to understand does not mean someone is going to stalk you--rather it is an understanding that we are all gypsies of a certain nature and this question is a casual conversation starter). I explain that San Diego is my destination for today but I plan to travel the southern states and then move to the east coast. Said stranger then states, "Isn't it a bit unusual for a girl like you to be traveling alone?".  A girl like me. What does that even mean. You have been sitting here for maybe 45 seconds. He catches my incredulous expression and pauses to add, "of course that implies several things that we don't need to get into."

No please, enlighten me as to the stereotype I present given you have had only as much time as it has taken me to lick the syrup off of my plate to evaluate me. Kidding. But seriously, tell me.

I ask what exactly a "girl like me" is. He cleverly answers, "a good looking girl, well educated."

Right. I am wearing a flannel shirt and have my glasses on because I was too lazy to bother with my contacts. We are going to skip over that first part and then assume the glasses have earned me the well educated appearance. I have to laugh.

As I wash my breakfast dishes, I realize I'm late for checkout. I make a mad dash to the counter to make my departure official, and then make my way to the parking lot. Parking has become the bane of my existence, but I have made friends with the man who owns this particular lot and he and I have agreed on a $20 per night fee. Woof. It is costing me more to park my vehicle than to it costs for room and board in the hostels. I am going to start sleeping in the truck.








Hollywood is a bit overcast today but it's still warm and my weather app promises sunshine later. I wish there was an app for parking spots, with filter options for price and distance. This morning I am going to Runyon Canyon for some hiking.  It takes about five seconds to find the gates to the park and another twenty minutes to find parking. The signs read something like, "No parking 7:01PM to 6:59PM. Closed days that end in Y for street cleaning." One side of the street is closed one day from certain hours, the other side is a different day and different hours. I can't handle this. It's honestly too much work to try to figure this all out and I'd probably risk a parking ticket if I wasn't going broke.

oh good, this looks safe

Honestly, I need some sort of legend to decipher this parking system. I might just park on someone's lawn because I'm fairly certain it will take quite a bit of time for them to find a tow truck that is big enough to tow the pickup yet small enough to maneuver this labyrinth of streets, and by the time they come to remove me from the front yard of one of these homes I'll be long gone.  I am beginning to understand the psychology of the cyclists. They are a population of individuals so desperate for parking spaces that they are willing to stuff themselves into spandex and risk their lives cycling through rush hour traffic just to avoid the severe inconvenience of parking. Clearly the frustration of this situation is getting to me if I'm willing to try to see the cyclists' perspective on life.

Runyon Canyon is above Hollywood and starts off as a nice flat trail. Then comes a fork and I can see I have a big decision to make so I ask a local to unravel the mystery of the two trails. She indicates that this trail (I can't tell which one she is pointing at) is less steep and paved and this trail (again, ambiguous pointing) is shorter but steeper. Great. #Thanksforyourhelp. #Istillhavenoideawhereimgoing.

I decide on the trail that most of the people seem to be going on. I think she said this was the steep trail and I'm looking for a bit of a workout so it seems like a good choice. Up above me at the height of the canyon I can see others walking and running and it seems they are extremely far away. Of course, when you see something like that, all you can think is "how did they get up there? I want to do that!". Something you should know about me is I have the mind of a super athlete. I aspire to run and jump and climb and go faster and higher and all that. And I have the body of a fuzzy caterpillar that isn't built for stamina, hibernates in the winter, and curls up when it gets scared. This creates a bit of an issue as there is a severe disconnect between the aspirations I have in my head and the ambition to follow through.

Anyway, I'm hiking up and it feels like I'm climbing straight up the side of a mountain. My calves are
burning and I'm being passed [uphill] by runners as I stagger along trying to simply continue moving forward. The sun has chosen this exact moment to peek its head out of the clouds and now I feel like I'm in Death Valley instead of Runyon Canyon. I am now also reflecting on my dramatic tendencies...

The trail winds through the canyon and the farther I go, the higher and higher I am and soon I am almost as high as all the people I watched from the very bottom and wanted so badly to be like. I'm not sure how this happened as I almost have an asthma attack just watching the runners continue to bound straight up the trail like mountain goats, seemingly without any effort. I pass a girl who has rolled her tank top up (probably just because she thought it looked cuter because I don't think it had anything to do with being tired) and is walking down the trail with her exposed amazing abs and great stomach muscles. I'm really really hot and sweaty so I roll mine up too, hoping there are abs underneath. There are no abs underneath. There is mushy white flesh slick with sweat, but it's so hot that I'm leaving it this way. In addition to my indecent exposure, I'm wearing the pants with no button as a reminder of why we don't eat eleven marshmallow bunnies and then drink two Frappuccinos. They are rolled up to my knees. I basically presenting myself as some sort of hillbilly/athlete poser. It is blazing hot. I don't care.

I reach the top, or the top of this trail. The view is awesome and it's nowhere near as hot as the bottom or middle sections of the canyon. It's actually chilly and windy and I can cover up the missing button and ab-less stomach now. After taking in the view and catching my breath, I begin the descent on a separate trail and come to an aggravating realization. The trail that I was so proud I had completed and followed all the way to the top was the EASY trail. The trail I am on now is more like a thin sandy goat trail carved into the rock and running straight to the bottom. It is steeper, and logically would be faster, especially if you fall and roll all the down. Which would be unfortunate as the vegetation here includes cacti.




I am not as sure footed as these other gazelles and goats running up and down the trail, so I am tip toeing down in my tourist outfit complete with Keens. A man wearing only tiny athletic shorts flies by me and continues running down the trail, leaping over rocks and other obstacles as he goes. Running. Running down the sandy slippery goat trail. My mind is blown. He must have spikes and/or some sort of adhesive gorilla glue helping him with traction. Again, I secretly want to be him and simultaneously want to curl up like a caterpillar at the thought of it. My aspirations and reality are a paradox.











I make it to the bottom and find my way back to the pickup. The hike was well worth the parking effort and the sun has decided to stick around for a bit. I navigate to Rodeo Drive to see the sites. I was almost that person who says "Where is Roh-dee-oh drive" until my mother corrected me. She has the most random knowledge. She was also quietly embarrassed for me. Now I saw "Roh-DAY-oh" drive like a seasoned Beverly Hills local.





Having marked off those sites on my to do list, it's now time to hit Santa Monica Blvd and get down to the pier.  I'm blaring Sheryl Crow on the radio and singing at the top of my lungs. I have closed the windows to avoid the embarrassment of the cliche lyrics, but I'm elated. I hit Ocean Avenue and am again sporting the crazy grin that says "I'm at the ocean and I LOOOOOVVVVE IT." I despise myself for being such a stereotypical tourist.











There are the shops of downtown Santa Monica, the pier with it's carnival (including a carousel) and beach, and the sun has blessed us with brightness and warmth and I am in love with the city. I managed to avoid anything beyond window shopping but did take a front seat on the roller coaster on the pier. Twice.

 

My unhealthy obsession with carousels continues...

    


 There are less people here dressed in scary outfits but I did see a man wearing a banana hammock, balancing on one foot on a large ball, and holding a snake in each hand. I now cannot unsee said man. I'm getting sunburned despite my liberal application of sunblock so I'm kind of worried initially about his exposed cheeks getting crisped. But then I realize he is a very dark African American man and I don't think he can be turned any darker so he is probably safe from charred cheeks. He is still a creepy street performer holding one of my worst fears in his hands so I avert my eyes and dart away.









I continue on Ocean Ave, this time singing Yellowcard because I am again, a very typical tourist/lyricist who cannot help myself. It's already late afternoon but I'm too curious about Venice Beach to skip it and make for San Diego just yet. The sun is still out and I take some time to journal while watching the surfers. A random guy offers to buy me a drink. I'm so clever in these situations (reference the incident with the guy from the Minneapolis bachelorette party) that I respond, "Oh, I don't drink. I'm sorry!" and walk away. I could have said you can buy me a milkshake, but then we'd have to revisit the pants button situation. Just a missed opportunity.




I'm finally on the road to San Diego. I'm insistent on taking the Pacific Coast Highway but it is now rush hour and after an hour or so of the scenic route and just a few miles progress, I'm opting for the freeway. While stuck in traffic, I did have the opportunity to observe a man playing on his steering wheel with drumsticks and jamming out for the duration of our entrapment. He didn't even stop to put a hand on the wheel when we inched forward, but continued drumming away and bobbing his head to the beat. I made a mental note to start carrying a white board and dry erase markers, so as to be prepared for happenings such as this and be able to then write, "We are meant to be--here's my number" and display it to potential suitors such as this. Humor gets so many bonus points. And humor in traffic gets additional bonus points.

Upon getting to my hotel in San Diego, I end up driving around the building five times looking for the door I am supposed to park by, and then try to determine which bags are essential and must be carried in. I finally arrive at my room after ascending 13 million steps, carrying a dozen bags, and really needing to get in to use the bathroom. The key card isn't working and I'm desperately trying it at all angles and then the doorknob turns, the door opens, and a man answers the door. Wonderful.

Awkwardness. Apologies.  I retrace my steps, dragging everything along with me back down the stairs, into the truck, and back to the front desk. I explain that they have double booked that room and leave out that I really need to use the bathroom and try to be empathetic instead of annoyed throughout the ordeal. As I find my way to my new (and now upgraded) room, I'm nervous as I try the new key card. This time I am successful and find an empty room. And I deadbolt the door to guard against any other surprises or unplanned roommates. Goodnight San Diego. Stay classy. And don't wake me up til at least 10:00AM.

4/14/2013. - Day 19 - Hollywood Blvd. Made it up Muhlholland Dr. And then evaded local law enforcement...

4/14/2013. - Day 19 -
Made it up Muhlholland Dr.
And then evaded local law enforcement...














This morning started with a mini exploration of Hollywood in search of a church for Sunday Service. Last night I tried to map out local Lutheran Churches, but it was hard to narrow it down. I decided to just start driving, and I ended up getting lost and finding this one--McCarty Memorial Christian Church- and was awed by the building alone and later charmed by the congregation. Other morning attendees were still scurrying in so my timing was perfect and I joined them for the service. As I walked through the doors, the first person to greet me and welcome me was from South Dakota, ironically. The congregation was very warm and friendly, and the service was wonderful. Many of the songs were familiar from my time at summer camp at Lake Metigoshe when I was in junior high, so I hardly needed my hymnal. At the end of the service, the entire congregation joined hands to pray and it was truly beautiful. I felt so comfortable and welcomed in this congregation and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

After that I set out to explore Hollywood Blvd. It should be noted I harbor a serious fear of street people in costumes, much like you see in Vegas. This is really confusing because I love theme parties, and I love Halloween and dressing up; but people walking the streets in costumes dressed as movie characters, celebrities, etc. freak me out.

Of course, not even a block into my sightseeing safari, a "spiderman" approached me and asked if I was here to model or act. I said neither, and responded further that I was simply exploring. He then asked if he could walk beside me. I provided him with an explanation about my fear of costumed people, which he ignored, and then resigned myself to the fact that he could walk beside me if he wanted whether I liked it or not. There is no law that says costumed figures can't walk on the same sidewalk as social workers from North Dakota. In response to his request to accompany me, I finally responded, "Sure, but I'll probably stop soon to do some shopping". This hopefully implied "don't wait outside the shop for me."

Spiderman babbled on as we walked and I was desperately searching for a legitimate store that I actually had interest in to duck into and loose this tail. There were masses of people on the streets so I didn't feel I was in any real danger, it was just my severe fear of those in costume that was hindering me at that moment. I finally found something of interest and thanked Spidy for the conversation and headed inside. I stayed long enough that I figured he had moved on, peered out the display window to make certain he was gone, and then continued on my way.

 Hollywood is really a spectacle in itself, with no rhyme or reason to the building style. One block may have a fancy theater, and the next may be rather run down, and the subsequent block may be set up like a palace, followed by a block of modern clean cut buildings. Of course tucked in between are all sorts of souvenir and gift stores galore. It felt as if I was moving through movie sets with each building and block that passed. There were tons of people about-- walking, selling various items, and working as creepy costume people. The sky was a bit overcast, but it was still warm temperature-wise.






I passed over the walkway of stars with the names of the famous carved inside, saying the familiar names to myself as I went along.Despite the crowds, which I sometimes find overwhelming and containing, I felt free. Hollywood is a constant buzz of activity and excitement, but I felt the real excitement was getting to see and experience all of this on my own. There is some pride in this adventure--partially in going it alone, but also in no longer feeling afraid to go it alone. There is something to the phrase "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself." In the beginning, I was very nervous and scared, though scared of what I don't know.

As the days and weeks tick by, I have dropped not only my structures and plans and schedules, but my fears and inhibitions. I can truly feel a transformation from feeling constrained to the margins of living in a small town, to being able to spread out, be myself, and break free from a cookie cutter mold to which I had been trying to squeeze into for so long. We spend so much time on the "shoulds"--who I "should" be, what I "should" do--it's elating to finally just let go and be what I am, what I was created to be, whatever that may be.

Not even by yourself. Good rule of thumb. 

When I returned to the hostel, I found one of my roommates, Agata, inside the room. We exchanged the day's activities thus far, and then decided to go explore Mulholland Drive together. As we made our way towards the twisting and winding roadway, we caught fantastic views from above the city skyline and stopped for a few photos. Then we continued to wind our way up Mulholland.

Somewhere during this drive we also hatched a plan to make it up to the Hollywood sign, or at least get as close as we could. This involved driving up some very step and crooked roads, many which displayed signs warning us that there was no access to the "Hollywood Sign" and instructed us to turn around.




Being young and adventurous (and maybe a little nervous) we continued. I made an executive decision to stash the pickup in a residential area and suggested we hike a little ways up towards the sign. After a few minutes, we reached a small clearing that was fairly cluttered with signage warning people not to park, hike, climb, or breathe near the sign. There were cars parked, people hiking and climbing, and of course, breathing, all over the place. I made a valiant attempt at one path, which I deemed a straight shot to the sign. It was too steep though, and halfway up I had to turn around when a helicopter flew over, much too close for comfort, and whipped dirt and debris up. Agata was not impressed and is not into climbing up treacherous terrain just to see a sign. She will use the zoom feature on her camera.

One sign was not enough.
Neither was three.

I couldn't settle for this--I needed to get a bit closer. We stopped a few hikers to inquire as to what the best course was for decreasing our proximity to the sign. Taking their instruction, we finally found a path that took us up high enough and close enough that I was satisfied with the picture taking location. We performed our tourist duties and then descended the trail, making our way back to the clearing of a thousand warnings.


Halfway down the trail, we began to hear sirens and subsequently a megaphone from a police car. The voice was telling everyone to move their cars and get away from the area, and reminding us that obviously there are signs telling us that we were not to be here in the first place. The public service announcement  finished with another command to basically get out.

Now I have encountered two fears in one day: costume people, and police in uniforms. For some reason, police uniforms creep me out and I hurriedly tried to explain this to Agata, while advising her to keep silent and still. We were hidden in the cover of the foliage on the path and were far enough from the clearing with the warning signage that we felt we would go undetected. We waited with bated breath for the exodus of fleeing tourists and the subsequent departure of the annoyed police officers. When the sounds subsided, we continued cautiously to the clearing, and finding it empty, made our way back to the pickup. I was a nervous wreck and tried to pretend I was not afraid-- but Agata got a good chuckle at me for my irrational fears.

As we drove back to the hostel, we swapped life stories. I explained my trip in all its grandeur, proudly telling her of my independence and adventure. Agata nodded in understanding, paused, and then asked what I was running from. She speculated a job gone wrong, a dream that died, or was it a boy? I answered that it was none of those things, but rather I needed space and room to breathe. And I needed to get away from some memories for a bit, maybe of a boy... Maybe from all of those things... I was tired of seeing sad children and seeing their parents in court and subsequently at the grocery store that night. The dreams I had when I was in college were completely obsolete, and the relationships I envisioned had gone up in flames. I told myself this was not a reason I left, but to be perfectly honest, sometimes after something breaks you apart so much, you need a change of scenery to rebuild yourself into something more beautiful that what others tore down. I reflected on this before answering further, and then offered to Agata that the trip has been in the back of my mind for some time, but a bad breakup probably spurred me into action. That situation probably helped me realize I was walking down the wrong path and needed to change something. Sometimes things that seem negative can be the catalysts for things that shape us in such incredible and unexpected ways. I explained further that I also think more than running away from anything, I am running towards something better, escaping the comfortable to learn about myself outside of my comfort zone. And maybe realizing that getting too comfortable can sometimes stunt our growth.

We returned to the hostel with a little time before dinner. The hostel was hosting a taco dinner and later providing some entertainment from local comedians. In our down time before dinner, I seized the opportunity to write a bit. I want to share everything that is happening, but I feel I must balance this with experiencing everything as well. I try to make time for a little writing every day, but remind myself that there will always be time to write. While I want to take small moments to capture my exact emotions, thoughts, and feelings in real time as they happen--I only use small windows such as this. Now is the time to live in these moments; recording them can wait.

Dinner was mediocre and the promised "beef tacos" were quite suspicious with regard to their meat ingredient. I speculated it was likely horse or dog because I know what beef looks like. After all I'm from North Dakota, where we name our calves and then butcher and eat them and then do it all over again next year. This here on my plate, this was not beef.

After dinner a couple of us walked to Starbucks before the comedy presentation. We strolled Hollywood Boulevard at night, slurping Frappacinos and picking out names in the cement stars that we were familiar with. As we walked, there were many street people in costumes and I stuck close to the pack because at night I find them EXTREMELY scary. A few tried to talk to us and we ignored them and walked on. One particular individual, dressed as Johnny Depp from Alice in Wonderland, was rather persistent. I squished myself into the people walking in our group and I hollered towards him, "Sorry but I DON'T LIKE PEOPLE IN COSTUMES!"

He made creepy eyes and responded in an equally creepy voice, " What costumes?" AGHHHHHHH. As I hurried to speed walk away, I caught something out of the corner of my eye, up above me. I looked up to find a spiderman perched 10 feet up, somehow latched onto the brick side of a building. I freaked out and screamed, "That is not fair, you cannot surprise people by hiding up on walls and then startling them. Not fair. NOT FAIR!" That's it, I'm done. We are walking back. No more costume street people with creepy accents and outfits lurking at the corners of buildings or up on the sides of walls. No. More.

Later we attended the comedian event. It was honestly terrible and out of respect we stayed long enough not to hurt anyone's pride and then departed for some sleep. I have planned a full day of enjoying Santa Monica tomorrow and am then heading further down the coast for my beloved San Diego. <3