Skippin' Town

Trial slideshow - anyone know how to improve the image??

2011-01-07T17:24:00.002-05:00

Remember when we had a blog, and were on the road???

Back on the road

2010-07-15T16:17:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow morning we depart for Latitude, a music festival two hours or so northeast of London that's supposed to be family friendly. We will be taking the caravan, and camping there for the weekend.
I've been on deadline this week and Daniel's been looking after the girls, so we are not really prepared to go. We'll have to clean the caravan when we get there.
Somewhere on its trip from Galveston, Texas to Southampton, England, the Airstream seems to have lost the tent, table and amazing Coleman chairs we had packed in it. It seems that customs couldn't figure out the latching system on one of the closets, because the door got bashed in. Maybe they wanted some camping equipment as well?
Daniel's bought a generator, two water tanks (one for clean water and one for grey), plus a watertight bucket so we can use the toilets.
Glamorous this is not going to be. But hopefully we'll have some fun.
Stay tuned, we'll post some thoughts and photos on Monday.
http://www.latitudefestival.co.uk/home/

A medium-sized plan

2010-07-11T19:26:00.002-04:00

We actually have a sort of Big Plan for the trailer. Well, maybe it's more accurate to call it a medium-sized plan.

We're hoping to rent it out as a prop/location thing, assuming that movie/ad/TV/fashion people will pay us a little bit of money for the privilege of photographing and filming it.
My friend Andrea thinks he can knock up a website powered by the blog, and maybe someone nice can take some photos.

Funnily enough, there is Another Airstream in the area. It's a big huge Airstream bus, rather than a trailer. It's all pimped out on the inside, so the owners are able to rent it out to PR and fashion people. Ours probably won't get that fancy. But it sure is cute.

Here's the money shot from our trip.

The Airstream has landed

2010-07-11T18:57:00.002-04:00

We've gotten it back. The Airstream is once again ours for real, it's jumped back out of the blog and re-entered our lives.

Sophia asked if she could scream for joy, and we said yes. So she let out a few of her trademark screams, which were quickly echoed by Lulu.

Darren at ARC Airstreams gave us a quick rundown of how all the new parts worked, and then explained that he had gotten the electricity and gas to work (yippee!).

Two funny things happened on the trip back from Taunton to London:

- we saw Daniel's brother Tim on the highway. Have you EVER seen someone you know on the highway?! And if it does happen, is it a sibling who just happens to be going the same way at the same time, halfway across the country? Of course, Tim being Tim, he just smiled, waved and kept driving - as though that were a totally normal situation. It's good to know he's finally seen the trailer, the star of so many of our stories.

- during our one stop, at a rest area, a guy asked Daniel if he could buy the trailer from us. He and his lady friend had been staring at the thing when Daniel came back to the car, so they got chatting. Daniel said we didn't know how committed we really were, so the guy said "Great, I'll buy it from you at the end of the summer".

Amazingly, we (meaning Daniel) managed to back it into his workshop parking lot, and then into a single parking space. The UK hitch includes a small wheel, which allows a person to pull/push the trailer into an ideal position. This came in very handy tonight, with Daniel using that method in between two separate car-hitch manoeuvres.

So we missed the second half of the World Cup final, which Spain ended up winning 1-0 in extra time. Yey, España! (We wanted you to win). But we parked the Airstream, which is also a major feat.

Are we crazy? We suspect that we might be. But it's pretty cool to have our Airstream back. And it does look mighty nice with our new, used Nissan Pathfinder (check out that grille).

Off to Taunton

2010-07-09T20:08:00.003-04:00

Can that sense of the American open road be exported to England? Will our Airstream even fit on the roads over here? Is there space for an (offensive) SUV + 1966 Caravel at gas stations? Where are we going to park the darn thing?

These questions and so many more will soon be answered: we are finally picking up our beloved shiny silver trailer this weekend.

Having picked up our Airstream from the port after its voyage across the Atlantic, Kathy and Darren at ARC Airstreams have refitted it to UK standards, with new axles, brakes and suchlike.
http://www.arcairstreams.co.uk/index.html

Unfortunately, the toilet - and other water systems - sound like they are not transferable from the US to the UK.

Stay tuned.

Home again, home again, jiggety-jig

2010-05-16T08:44:00.001-04:00

Finally, on the afternoon of April 24th, we got our lovely house back. Having lurked around the neighborhood for the best part of a week, we were relieved to become full-blown residents once again.

Sophia ran straight up the stairs and into her room, just to check it was still there, before inspecting the rest of the house. The letters spelling out her name were still intact on her bed.

Daniel wandered around, admiring all of the handiwork – curtains, doorknobs, painting, doors, yet more storage space – he had completed before we moved out. He felt like a king in a (bijou) castle many times the size of an Airstream Caravel.

I marvelled at the thought of No Stuff. Even vastly reduced, Stuff had been the main impediment to life on the road. Our clean and tidy house still boasted the furniture, kitchen stuff, TV, etc, that we had left behind, and we had learned to live with (comparatively) few things. Why ruin this, when we could lead an uncomplicated life of minimalism?

Lulu, for her part, having left this house at the age of six weeks, seemed to perceive that at last we were home. That night, for the first time ever, she slept the whole night through.

Picaresque London

2010-05-16T08:24:00.001-04:00

So recently returned to London, we had forgotten about all the petty crime. At high noon on our first full day back, we intercepted a mobile phone theft.
“Help, this guy’s trying to steal my phone. Call the police!”, a passerby entreated us. So, naively, we walked over and asked what was going on. A local thug on a bike had asked to see the man’s phone, and then tried to walk away with it. So, reaching for my ancient Nokia – and realizing I didn’t remember what the number in England was - I took a photo instead. Or pretended to – I had also forgotten how to use the camera function. The perpetrator got mad, telling Daniel to make me deleted it. Daniel said no. Sophia asked what was going on, and Lulu rubbed snot onto my top. The guy eventually let up his fight, issued a threat for the future and then cycled off.
Later that day, two kids tried to break into our car.
The following afternoon, a neighbor across the street told Sophia that the thumbtack she had retrieved from his windowsill had been dipped in rat poison. Angrily, he said that the hundreds of other such rat poisoned tacks were there to prevent pedestrians from sitting or leaning on his windowsill. Challenged as to why that was a good idea – on a thoroughfare frequented by children – he retorted that youngsters were the worst offenders. I asked whether erecting a sign to warn parents of the danger might be a good idea, even offering to make one myself, he said that was beside the point.
So, I called the police. They sent the neighborhood safety patrol around, and nary a tack has since been seen on Columbia Road.

From his studio in Cornwall, Daniel presents some new work

2010-05-16T08:06:00.001-04:00

Last year, Barbara made good on her dream to build a room of her own, atop her home in Saltash. It's a fantastic space, with views out to the Brunel Bridge and the River Tamar, with light that lasts the whole day.
There, Daniel set up a studio in which he painted and painted.
Here is a sample...

Cornwall

2010-04-29T09:38:00.004-04:00

The first week of homelessness was spent at Barbara’s in Saltash, Cornwall. Not a bad place to be, especially at the start of springtime.
It was also a pretty good place for Lulu to be struck down with a weeklong bout of gastroenteritis, since we were able to go to Barbara’s doctor. Poor Lulu lost loads of weight – thankfully, she had plenty of meat on those bones to start with.
We were invited to lots of dinners, where we caught up with friends and family.
We even had an afternoon of croquet - my first ever – with what I think were Real Aristocracy as well as Actual Rabbit Holes, at Daniel’s sister Emma’s new place in the Devon countryside. It was just like ‘Alice in Wonderland’ in 3D, but without the Lord of the Rings-esque extended battle scene.

Here are some photos:

1. Lulu at motorway rest stop somewhere between Cornwall and London
2. Sophia with random kids at playground in Saltash
3. Daniel’s brother Tim with his lovely wife Fiona
4. Lulu, Rufus and Sophia at Tim and Fiona’s
5. Sophia and cousin Rufus at the beach in Cornwall
6. Daniel and his school friend Mark Rich
7. The Den, planned at night, built at dawn
8. Sophia (and) Spring
9. Barbara with Bundt cake (thanks, Julia!)
10. Sophia’s beehive

Homeless

2010-04-29T09:35:00.001-04:00

Arriving in London on April 9, we were to spend the next fifteen days homeless. Cecile and David, our tenants had found another house in the neighborhood, but not until April 25.
Having originally planned to sleep at the workshop, we later found the prospect of setting up a home there too daunting. We didn’t even have a sofa-bed. Also, our friend Laura, who’s been renting it since we’ve been away, had all her installation art there, ready for exhibition.

So, we became vagrants, sleeping at EIGHT different places:
1. The Holiday Inn, Heathrow (pictured) – we got an amazing $36 deal on hotwire.com from the US

2. Emma & Beni’s – and what a warm welcome we had there. Sophia and Rocco didn’t fight at all!

3. Barbara’s in Cornwall – two rooms of our own, delicious food, perfect weather and amazing views of the Royal Albert and Tamar Bridges connecting Devon and Cornwall

4. Mark & Karen’s in Plymouth – Daniel’s school friend, his wife and their supersweet kids, who entertained Sophia all evening and then again all morning

5. Tim & Fiona’s at Lostwithiel – visits to the beach, a monkey sanctuary and, possibly most excitingly, the opportunity to sleep in a genuine Daniel Spring bed (yippee, once you try one, you’ll never go back)

6. Holiday Inn Express, Docklands – a stop-gap the night before school started

7. Liz & Marie’s – They got stuck in Canada due to the Eyjafjallajökull volcano in Iceland, so we got to borrow their house, right around the corner from ours. ALMOST HOME! Sophia could not for the life of her understand why we kept walking past our own house but not sleeping in it.

8. Gary & Carole’s in Stoke Newington – they took us in at the last minute, fed us and provided us with boutique hotel-y accommodations

THANK YOU to everyone for giving shelter to a weary family of four.

Touchdown

2010-04-29T09:16:00.002-04:00

And there we were, back in London.

And we are off…

2010-04-29T09:04:00.004-04:00

Suddenly it was time to go back to London.

Having sold our car, we were able to buy plane tickets for April 9, the last day before fares went up.

To get back in time for Sophia’s first day at her new nursery school, we ended up having to miss our last swimming, art and writing classes.

But it is hard to complain after a nine-month holiday.
So we had extra playtime with cousins and Pei, a farewell dinner with my parents and Annie’s family and a final piano-accompanied Forest Avenue performance (a hybrid of Hawaiian and hip-hop) by Sophia and Patrick.

Then, eleven items of luggage in hand (and many, many things left at my ever-patient parents’ for future pick-up – sorry), we headed before the crack of dawn to JFK for the flight back. We lucked out and got FOUR bulkhead seats, and some surprisingly un-disgusting food. Thank you, American Airlines.

Goodbye, America, we love you.

Stay tuned...

2010-04-24T18:20:00.001-04:00

There are a few more posts coming this way, so please do stay tuned. We are not quite finished with this story!

Easter egg hunt!

2010-04-07T00:42:00.002-04:00

Happy Birthday!

2010-04-07T00:36:00.003-04:00

March is a big month for birthdays in our family. My sister Annie on the 6th, my mother Sara on the 19th and Daniel on the 25th.
How fun to be able to celebrate them all at home.

Bye-bye, firetruck!

2010-04-07T00:34:00.001-04:00

We sold our (mostly) trusty GMC Yukon for $4900, $100 less than we paid for it. Too bad we spent about five grand on repairs. Still, considering that we did 18,500 miles in the thing, we can’t complain.

Two guys came to see it, and both ended up wanting to take it. Ken, of Fort Lee, New Jersey (pictured here), got there first. A Gaza native who sends his kids to American school in Egypt, he wants a vehicle to tow his boat with for their summer visits.

Sophia was inconsolable when she found out that her idea to build a ship with a parking lot so we could take the car back to London wasn’t a viable option. (Promising her a toy version stopped the crying, so we have a mini GMC Yukon on the way from Diecast Models Wholesale).

It is fair to say that we all shared her sadness. First of all, selling the car meant that our Big Adventure was well and truly over, and that the return to Real Life was now inevitable. Secondly, all our repairs had made for a really good car.

Happily, though, the first car repair guy to rip us off – when the Yukon broke down a day before our planned set-off date – ended up writing us a check for $540. That was after months and months of phone calls and visits to ask why the fuel pump he had supposedly replaced had been neither new nor correctly installed.

He decided not to mess with us, because we had all the time in the world to harass him.

A return to routine

2010-04-07T00:16:00.001-04:00

Lest we turn into total layabouts, we had to find ourselves some activities.

We started with classes: art classes and swimming lessons for Sophia, a portrait painting class for Daniel and a writing class for me.

All poor Lulu got was sleep training. But I am proud to say that she now sleeps through the night (and two full naps) in her very own bed. Thank you, Jana, for recommending Kim West’s great book ‘Good Night, Sleep Tight’. It’s a gentle method for getting your kid out of your bed without just shutting the door and letting them scream. It also has good tips for teeny babies as well as older kids.

Daniel and I started jogging most mornings, until we all a really nasty cold/flu. This means that our post-roadtrip physiques will not be ready for a little while. But we counted our blessings, feeling very lucky not to have gotten sick on the road.

Daniel’s been painting like crazy, having set up a studio in my parents’ sunroom. He’s done a series of portraits plus some still lifes. The plan is for him to give painting a proper go once we get back to London…go Daniel!

For me, being a suburban mom in the place I grew up has been weirdly fun. Mothers at playgrounds, the pool and the shops have all been really nice, I’m sure it would be great to be friends with some of them.

Sophia’s had loads of time with her cousins Patrick and Keira, as well as friends like Pei and Brecken. She is going to miss her little life here a lot.

Since we got back, Lulu has blossomed. We don’t know whether it’s her age (11 months on Thursday!!!!!), so much sleep or all the stability, but she is now supersocial and ready to take on the world. She is standing all the time, and walking while holding onto things. We can’t believe that the ittie-bittie infant we arrived with is almost a toddler.

I’d better sign off before things get too teary.

Full circle

2010-04-06T23:54:00.001-04:00

So, 18,500 miles and just over six months after we started our adventure, we arrived back at my parents’ house in New Rochelle. Man, was it nice to know we were going to stay in one place for a little while.

Obama’s house

2010-04-06T23:40:00.003-04:00

Ever since we started out on our road trip, Sophia has been obsessed with Barack Obama. We’ve listened to a lot of NPR to stay up to date with news and culture, and some Christian radio so that we can learn what exactly the Tea Party is all about. Plus, unsurprisingly, the healthcare debate came up a lot in conversations with people we met along the way. So of course she has heard quite a bit about Obama.

Her most frequent questions: Why is he so important? Where does he live? Can I see his house?

What better place to conclude a cross-country trip but Our Nation’s Capital?

The visit started out very well indeed, since we stayed at an awesome hotel. A-loft, the diffusion range of the upmarket W hotel group, has nice design, great beds, fantastic customer service and fun things like a pool, coffee bar, flat screen TVs, cordless phones, a gym and repetitive dance music at the cocktail bar. This was a major departure from our usual motel fare, which had gotten really depressing, and was well worth the trade-off of staying not only outside the center, but in Virginia.

But back to culture.

Check out our best parking spot ever, right outside the Capitol building. We tried to go on a tour of the building, but a last minute visiting (unspecified) world leader put paid to that plan. Tourists had to wait in long lines, as snipers, secret servicemen and sniffer dogs positioned themselves for the big arrival.

So we went to the National Museum of the Native American, for lunch. We had been there before, and knew the food was great. The cafeteria is divided into sections based on geographies and tribes. We ordered traditional food from across these geographies: cornbread, salmon, wild rice, buffalo burger, cranberry crumble, nopal cactus, succotash, etc.

Then, having enjoyed the ground floor’s exuberant costume displays and a live drumming performance, we headed out and decided to split up.

Daniel and Sophia went to the National Gallery of Art to check out European paintings, while Lulu and I hit the Newseum, a museum dedicated to journalism.

Because it’s not part of the Smithsonian, the Newseum has a hefty entry fee ($20, but there’s a small discount for journalists) but it’s well worth it. My favorite exhibits included satire as news (Saturday Night Live’s Weekend Update, The Onion, Jon Stewart’s Daily Show, the Colbert Report, etc); the decline of old media/rise of digital media and blogging; a comparison of press freedoms around the world; and a more somber one on all the journalists who have been killed in the line of duty.

There was also a fun interactive part where you can pretend you’re a broadcast reporter. I chose to do the weather report, speaking into a microphone and using a teleprompter while Lulu slept strapped to me in the baby carrier. I can confirm that I am not photogenic and should stick to print.

Having reconvened after the museums, it was off to Obama’s house, at the height of the evening rush hour. We drove all around the White House, getting great views from the front and back, but failing to get a good photo since there was nowhere to stop. Sophia and I jumped out of the car at one point, running across a park to take a picture in time to get back in the car so Daniel wouldn’t hold up traffic. But no luck.

We finished the evening by meeting up with Thomas, an Irish friend from London who relocated to Washington to work for the Marshall Fund. We had pints and some seafood snacks along the Georgetown waterfront, catching up on the last year, life in Washington and life on the road.

He insisted that we join him at an ideas-n-drinks party at Slate magazine, having OK’d this with the event organizers beforehand. So, banishing our doubts, into the venue we headed, tired kids in tow. Disheveled in appearance and brainpower, we attempted to make conversation with people who had Real Jobs. Thomas, ever the skilled and delightful host, introduced us to a selection of his many accomplished friends. They were very nice to Daniel and me, and chatted to the girls. Thomas and Sophia made canapé smiley faces (great way to get kids to eat vegetables!). But with the girls heading quickly towards Meltdown, we made our excuses and left.

The next day, we departed for New York.

Airstreams on the Today Show! (Celebrities love them too)

2010-04-05T11:31:00.001-04:00

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

More South, and Spring

2010-04-04T00:15:00.003-04:00

Doing the Charleston

2010-04-03T23:25:00.002-04:00

The Charleston dance started out with African Americans in the South, before making its way up to Harlem and then going global with the flappers.
Here’s an old how-to video we found on Youtube.

We didn’t do any dancing in Charleston, South Carolina. Rather, we ate. And walked. It’s a great town for both.

Hyman’s Seafood was the venue for today’s Southern eat-a-thon, which we had learned to schedule for the afternoon in order to give us at least seven hours to digest.

This place served us one of the best meals we had on our entire trip. We had boiled peanuts, hush puppies, shrimp on buttered grits, coleslaw, fried green tomatoes, grilled fish, fried fish, french fries, sweet potato.

Eli Hyman, one of the family-owned restaurant’s current heads, stopped by our table not once but twice to check that everything was OK. So many famous people make the pilgrimage to Hyman’s that each table has at least one brass plaque bearing the name of a celebrity who ate at that very table. We ate where Neil Armstrong had been.

This place does shameless but amazing marketing. In exchange for wearing a sticker that says something like ‘I love Hymans’ around town, customers get entered in a contest to win a free meal (they apparently have staff in all corners of Charleston, waiting to discover winners). We were happy to oblige, but didn’t win. Sophia’s fish-n-chips came on a special Hyman’s Frisbee. I bought Hyman’s grits to make at home from the adjoining gift shop.

We then stumbled outside, where we spent an hour or two wandering around yet another Southern port town.

Set on a peninsula between the Ashley and Cooper rivers, Charleston was founded by the English in 1670 and soon was a shipping center for deerskin, cotton and indigo.

It features huge, beautiful houses whose narrow side faces the street. Many boast elaborate side porches stretching up each of their three, four or five stories. Most porches face southeast, to allow optimum shade and breeze during the city’s famously hot summers. This was important, since people often had to sleep outside to stay cool.

Some 100 miles apart, Charleston and Savannah make an easy Southern historic city pairing. Both claim various things, like having the oldest Jewish temple, or having been the South’s most tolerant town. Either way, they sure are a study in Southern beauty and grace.

Southern Gothic

2010-04-03T23:11:00.004-04:00

Savannah, Georgia is as graceful and mysterious a city as you can imagine. Flannery O’Connor was from there, as was the founder of the Girl Scouts, Juliet Lowe.
The city’s center, most of it a national landmark, is constructed on a grid system containing 22 squares. Everywhere, there are Spanish moss draped trees, beautiful wrought ironwork and proud Savannahians. The best part, for us, was being treated to an early dose of Spring.
Because we only had one afternoon, we took a guided bus tour. Our driver, who rang her bell to emphasize more interesting historical points, was a fountain of knowledge. She also had a dark sense of humor, a loathing of men, Washington and the outcome of the Civil War, and a clear desire to run over pedestrians. We made sure to leave a tip. Then she dropped us off on the other side of town, at her preferred restaurant, the Pirate’s House, an old inn dating from 1753 along the Savannah River. It is supposed to be haunted, and features on the city’s haunted tour. If anyone’s interested in the southern ghosts, New Orleans, Savannah and Charleston all have haunted tours.
We had nothing to fear but the number of calories entering our stomachs by way of the buffet- macaroni and cheese, fried chicken, corn bread, collard greens, creamed broccoli, mashed potatoes, etc. Then, we had dessert.
What is definitely fearsome is the historical society, which is apparently loved and hated in equal measures, for its commitment to ensuring that all squares and houses are kept in tip-top condition.
We were lucky to see the inside of one such house. A man, tending his garden, gave us directions and then invited us to see his home, which dated from the 1700s.
He and his wife, both Chicago natives, had moved to Savannah at the beginning of the 1980s, after spending three years at sea in a houseboat. Kindred spirits.

Blur of states

2010-03-31T00:15:00.002-04:00

After New Orleans, we sped through a blur of states: the remainder of Louisiana, small chunks of Mississippi and Alabama, followed by the panhandle of Florida and a portion of Georgia. We covered long distances, the longest being 446 miles in one go, punctuated only by fast food and motels that no longer seemed exciting.
The terrain was mainly swamps and marshes, with lots and lots of trees, green ones!
Once we hit Interstate-95, it really felt like we were home. Despite being 853 miles from New York, we were back on the East Coast, and within sight of the Atlantic – the ocean next to which Daniel and I both grew up.

Here are some photos of the girls, probably in the parking lot of a Waffle House, our new favorite fast-food chain. Their staff is super-friendly, they serve pretty decent coffee and their pecan waffles are the best. Did I mention the grits?

N’Awlins

2010-03-30T22:43:00.002-04:00

And so it was that we entered New Orleans trailer-less. Along Interstate 10, we had noted all the trailer parks, one of which was right in the French Quarter.

We did our best not to be sad, and checked in to the Holiday Inn on Royal Road, smack-bam in the middle of the French Quarter. It was kind of scuzzy, and 24-hour parking cost $28. But it did have internet, TV and two full-size beds.

After a restorative cup of tea, we set forth into the unusually windy and cold weather.

New Orleans does not look like it’s in America. First a colony of the Spanish and French, it didn’t become part of the US until the Louisiana Purchase in 1803, when Napoleon sold it and other lands west of the Mississippi River for some $15 million.

We spent our entire visit in the French Quarter, or Vieux Carre, which because of its marginally higher altitude was spared much of the devastation of Hurricane Katrina in 2005. On our way into and out of New Orleans, though, we saw lots of shells of houses as well as lots of houses that looked brand new.

The French Quarter is a bit of a Cajun theme park, but it’s so beautiful and charming that it doesn’t really matter. We ate gumbo, fried crawfish, fried catfish, fried shrimp, hush puppies (also fried), French fries and the most amazing crab cakes.

Plus, at Café du Monde, some local doughnuts called beignets that come with a chicory coffee blend you find only in New Orleans.

Then, having learned that in the South, ‘fried’ is its very own essential food group, we rolled around appreciating more beautiful buildings, the great Mississippi riverfront, groups of excellent musicians and tarot card/ne-er do wells and the Louisiana State Museum. We caught an exhibition featuring Mardi Gras costumes through the ages, and my, were they fancy. Sophia thought that every last one of them was fit for a princess, a wedding or both.

We also figured out the meaning of the ubiquitous signs proclaiming “Who Dat?” meant. Getting the football theme was the easy part – the New Orleans Saints won the Superbowl in January. Working out Who did Dat was more of a challenge.

It turns out that the ever-faithful supporters of the always-losing Saints liked to shout “Who Dat”, or who’s that about to beat our team? So often is this invoked that Saints fans are known as Who Dat Nation.

Here’s the chant: "Who dat? Who dat? Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints?"

So now, of course, the chant’s losers have come out on top. Yey, Saints.

The roads less traveled

2010-03-28T21:44:00.001-04:00

We started out with a LOT of guidebooks – to the US, to RVing, various states, etc. But given space constraints, we had to limit them to just one, a gift of Daniel’s mom, Barbara: ‘Road Trip USA, Cross-Country Adventures on America’s Two-Lane Highways’.

And boy, were we happy. The main premise of the book’s author, Jamie Jensen, is that by avoiding the interstate, you get to see the real America. He proposes eleven east-west and north-south routes across the US, pointing out lesser known history, museums, hotels, restaurants, state parks and gloriously kitschy Americana along the way.

Hopping-on and hopping-off eight of these routes, we started calling the book Jamie. We were also inspired to seek out our own smaller roads.

We wrote to Jamie, asking if we could interview him, and very kindly, he agreed. It turns out he has a UK connection, and even spent time living in Cornwall. Which is funny, since that’s where Barbara bought the book.

Here goes:

Q: How did you get started on your book? Or, better put, when did your interest in avoiding big highways become an obsession? Did you set out with the aim of writing a book?

A: My book Road Trip USA came out of years of travel around America, first as a kid on summer vacations, and later as a travel writer (working for UK-base guide books series like Rough Guides and Dorling Kindersley...) I did a USA book for both these companies, but the more I wrote for them the more I discovered that the places I found most interesting were far away from what my editors wanted to hear about -- they wanted me to cover cities, while I felt that the best things America offered were its small towns and wide-open spaces.

Q: You traveled well over 400,000 miles while doing research for this book. How hard was it to narrow down your chosen routes to just 11?

A: What I try to do in the routes I cover in Road Trip USA is to show travelers that they can go anywhere they want to go, without having to deal with the tedium of the Interstate freeway system. Of course, there are 100s of thousands of miles of scenic and country roads all over America, so the competition to get in the book was pretty fierce -- the roads all had to offer great travel experiences, but still be practical as well. What I basically ended up doing was rely on an earlier generation of roads; the ones I cover are generally considered the "old roads", but these were the main roads from the 1920s up until the mid-1960s, which is really the "classic era" for roadside Americana, so my roads tend to have tons more character than the more "modern" freeways.

Q: Did you travel primarily on your own, or did you have company? What vehicle(s) did you drive on your trips? You mainly recommend motels, but occasionally mention campgrounds – where did you tend to stay on your trips? Why?

A: I tend to mix things up -- for my most intense research trips, I travel on my own, but when I get somewhere nice I am usually met by my family (wife and 2 boys), or I try to connect with some friends. Where I stay depends on the place I'm traveling thru (and the weather!). In wide-open places like Arizona or Utah, I try to camp out and enjoy the natural world, but in the east coast and urban areas I rely more on motels and hotels.

When I was first writing the book (back in the early 1990s), I posted the text up on "gopherspace", the Internet predecessor to websites, and I got lots of input from people as well as a few "couch-surfing" invitations -- I still try to connect with people in the places I pass through, though I haven;t had as much luck with all these "social media" networks...

Q. Did you have any major mishaps on your travels?

A: Not really. I got a flat tire once -- and I got pulled over for speeding, but the officer

Q: We really like the book’s period graphics and styling. Was the retro theme part of your intention? To what extent was your background in architecture an influence?

A: Thank you -- I really enjoy collecting all the mages and graphics and logos that we use in the book. Having worked with other guide book series, I had a pretty good idea about how I wanted Road Trip USA to look and feel -- I definitely wanted to appeal to die-hard "Blue Highways" travelers, and also to people who never knew they were interested in road trips, but still responded once I got the book into their hands. The architectural angle is less clear -- though because I grew up in the post-war, car craziness of LA, I guess I have a natural affinity for all the great "Googie" and streamline design that makes roadside Americana so much fun to see.

Q: How did you fund your travels? What was your daily budget?

A: My first US travels were as cheap as you can get -- long before I ever thought of writing about travel, I set off across the country with about $200 in my pocket. Because I had all the time in the world, and no real destination, I found odd jobs here and there as I traveled -- I was hitch-hiking a lot, and standing by the road is a time-honored way to let people know you are available. Working -- cutting hay in Kansas in the middle of summer , sweating like the proverbial pig -- was a great way to get to know people, and I would usually get a few dollars as well as a bed and some square meals. My initial $200 lasted me more than 2 years, but these days I can blow thru that much "dosh" in a day or two.

Q: How much traveling do you do now? Do you take your kids with you?

A: I still travel as often as I can -- not months on end as I used to, but enough so that I get travel most of "my" roads every few years. 40,000 miles every new edition -- about every 3 years. The boys come on shorter trips, like up and down the California coast every Thanksgiving -- and now they're nearly teenagers I think they'll get more and more out of cross-country trips, too. We stop for a lot of baseball games, which gives us a theme for our trips.

Q: You spent some time living in the UK – what were you doing? Did you do much travel there and in Europe? How does travel there compare with USA travel?

A: I first came to England in 1987, hoping to work in social housing, but it was just when Margaret Thatcher made public housing illegal, so it wasn't exactly a "good career move". After a while I did notice an ad in the Monday Guardian saying some small publisher was looking for a writer to cover California, so I applied and got hired to write the Rough Guide to California. It was something like the 8th book in what has gone on to become a whole library of 100s of titles, so it was fun to watch the enterprise grow from a basement flat into a cornerstone of the Penguin list -- and it was a great introduction to British culture, for sure. Every year I go to England with my wife (who is from London and Yorkshire, and gets terribly homesick) and the kids -- they've had two full years of English schools, and a year in Berlin, too, so they are pretty international.

I like European travel for the coffee, pastries and architecture -- but there's nothing over there that compares to the sense of excitement I feel driving down some lonesome American road, with the radio on.

Q: What is your all-time favorite route across the USA?

A: I'd have to say US-50, between San Francisco and Washington DC -- tons of history, and a full range of American landscapes.

Q. You now live on the California coast – where else have you seen along the way that could tempt you to move?

A: I love and have lived for nice lengths of time in Cornwall -- it has everything northern California has (gorgeous scenery, fresh ocean air, good beer...). Vermont is nice, too -- but it's a long way to the ocean. And if someone gave me a Tuscan villa, I suppose I could consider that.

Q: Do you prefer to travel during the summer, or off-season? Why?

A: I'm definitely an off-peak traveler -- I hate crowds (unless we are all in a stadium and they are rooting on my team!)

Q. Have you done any RV-ing? If so, what kind of vehicle did you use?

A: My first big trip as a kid was in a pick-up truck camper, traveling with my Dad and brothers around all the western National Parks. RVs are convenient, but I find them a bit isoloating -- I hate having to hassle with parking. My own road trip vehicle is a converted Volkswagen Eurovan / Winnebago camper -- the newer kind of VW, with a V6 engine that has enough power to go uphills, unlike some of my earlier "classic" VW buses.

Q. Do you like vintage RVs? Any preference among Airstreams, Spartans, Avalons, Shastas, etc?

A: I love them all! But all I know about them, I learned at the Shady Dell in Bisbee AZ...

Q: Are you currently working on any new projects?

A: Along with some tech-savvy friends I am trying to bring my whole Road Trip USA effort into the digital world -- we may well have an "iPhone App" up and running by summer. Just don't ask me how it works!

Farewell, Airstream and farewell, friends

2010-03-13T22:16:00.004-05:00

Taking small roads past tiny towns, ramshackle housing, shrimp trucks, fancy condos on stilts and the skeletons of older houses destroyed by Hurricane Ike, we arrived at Galveston Island State Park.
It was here that we would spend our final night in the Airstream, and our final evening with Dan and Marlene.
So we all had a farewell dinner of sorts.
With the wind picking up and evidence of weather destruction abounding, we selected a spot on the inner lagoon rather than on the blustery Gulf itself.
Gaping at the glorious orange and fuchsia pre-storm sunset, we started out with Daniel’s famous homemade margaritas (and apple juice for the older girls), before moving on to snacks and salads. Working by the light of the full moon and their trusty headlamps, Daniel and Dan worked hard over a tiny barbeque, returning with stacks of fat shrimp, steaks, bacon and tuna.
It was a fun night, so we went to bed reluctantly, knowing that we wouldn’t be back in the Airstream for months.
We awoke the next morning, taking extra time over breakfast before tackling the task of cleaning and packing up the Airstream for its voyage across the Atlantic. By that evening – after a late lunch with Dan and Marlene at IHOP across the street from a choppy Gulf – we had dropped off the trailer for shipping. We were no longer Trailer People.

Not invited to the hoedown

2010-03-13T22:07:00.002-05:00

As soon as we pulled into Pioneer Resort RV Park in Port Aransas, Texas, it was clear we did not fall into the core demographic. Our first super-RV retirement resort had over 360 spots – all apart from ours filled with giant motorhomes - no shade, no barbeque (we had all been planning an outdoor food fest), and no refunds.

But worst of all, we were not invited to the Saturday night hoedown, one of many social events planned by the winter residents.
I was told as much by the party’s costumed ringleader, who stepped in my path as I searched for the laundry room: “Do you have tickets? We are having a hoedown, and there are no more tickets”.

It turns out that clique-i-ness continues long after high school, we had no idea. But, then again, families with young children probably don’t turn up that often at retirement villages.

So we spent dinner inside Dan and Marlene’s Airstream, peering out the window at the party directly across the narrow paved road. We watched couples and singles bedecked in overalls and red wigs with braids, brandishing hoes and rakes.
We hoped we were missing out on something scandalous (why else would we be left out of the party?!)– skinny-dipping in the small pool, partner-swapping, tequila shots, perhaps?

Unfortunately for us, we witnessed nothing salacious, and the party ended early and quietly.

So we watched the hilarious movie ‘RV’ starring Robin Williams as the head of a family who cancels a family trip to Hawaii to go on an RV adventure instead.
Well, we thought it was hilarious – it probably helps if you’ve spent time RV-ing yourself. So it was nice to watch the movie with fellow RV-ers, who also thought it was funny.

Addendum: The next day, once the party was over, everyone at the park turned nice. Someone in the laundry room folded my laundry, so that they could take over the dryer. The ladies on Sunday reception duty gave helpful advice on to how to spend our day in the local town (seafood, dolphins, a bird sanctuary and a playground – plus another friendly Texan bus driver).

Here are some photos of our afternoon out.

Padre Island National Seashore

2010-03-13T22:00:00.002-05:00

Having spent much of our trip visiting vacation spots off-season, it’s always exciting to go somewhere at the right time.
Just over a big bridge from Corpus Christi in southern Texas is Padre Island National Seashore, a marshland area boasting fine white sands, warm weather – and a ton of wind.

We spent the night right on the Gulf of Mexico, paying our record low overnight fee: $8. There was no hook-up, but who cares when you can see every star unhindered by city lights, hear crashing waves all night long and wake up on the beach?

It was in fact one of our very few no hook-up nights where we didn’t freeze.

The next day, after a pancake breakfast, we walked about five steps to the beach: Sophia and Daniel built sandcastles – following the technical plans Sophia had drawn up the night before – while Lulu and I took a long walk down the straight shoreline, meeting all of two people.

After lunch, we were reunited with Dan, Marlene & co, who stopped to enjoy the beach before we all headed off further down the island towards Port Aransas.

Texas, still a Republic?

2010-03-13T21:53:00.002-05:00

One hears that Texas still considers itself a republic, and it’s not hard to understand why: it is BIG.

Interstate 10 traverses Texas for a whopping 879 miles, and various diversions took us considerably further than that.
The western half of the Lone Star State is so empty that according to our atlas, Big Bend National Park is “near” El Paso, at a distance of over 300 miles. It’s true that the elevation is lower and it’s a tiny bit less dusty than in New Mexico, points of interest are few and far between. That said, the scenery is trance inducing: fort-like buttes, turrets, table-top mountains and minarets, punctuated only by yucca trees, saguaro cactus and yes, tumbleweed.

Gradually, grass starts to mix with sagebrush, and green trees with succulents, with the angular mountains softening into rolling hills. At the imaginary line dividing west Texas from east, trees gain the majority and rivers begin to appear.

From there, the land flattens out and farms appear. You can sense that the Atlantic is nearing.

Geographical differences aside, Texas takes itself very seriously. Cowboy hats, elaborate leather belts and mustaches are worn without irony, and the state flags decorate houses, cars and businesses.

Signs along the highway warn drivers: ‘Don’t mess with Texas!’, just in case they were thinking about littering.

Texas goes to great lengths to demonstrate its independent spirit, even boasting its own statewide fast food joint: Whataburger, a family-owned business that has given its name to the football stadium in Corpus Christi, its headquarters.

Dan, a great fan of his own state’s homegrown fast food chain: In-n-Out, was keen to sample Whataburger. So, one day, we all went for lunch. They had pretty much what you’d find at McDonalds: fishburgers, kids’ meals with toys, etc. The difference is that food ordered at the cash register is delivered by a (very enthusiastic, in our case) staff member, who comes bearing condiments. Dan wasn’t super-impressed, saying Whataburger didn’t compare at all to In-n-Out. We didn’t feel one way or another, but Daniel said the fries were good.

But the State of Texas and God are far more impressed (see photos of signs on store windows).

Texans are really hospitable, at least from what we saw. Especially on the bus: every time we got on a bus (which was about twice), the driver stopped in the middle of his route for about ten minutes to give us local history and directions…with a bus full of passengers. On the Gulf coast, at Port Aransas, the bus ride, which cost 25 cents, even came with free candy for kids! And in San Antonio, even fellow passengers got in on the game: striking up conversations, giving us helpful tourist suggestions, telling us about their estranged children and even calling the bus company to find out when our next bus was due.

Is Texas the only state that fashions food in its own shape? Dan and Marlene bought Texas-shaped tortilla chips at the supermarket, and our Houston suburbs motel had a Texas-shaped waffle iron that produced Texas-shaped waffles.

There must be more examples, I’m sure we only just scratched the surface.

Remember the Alamo!

2010-03-13T21:51:00.002-05:00

After Sonora Caverns, Dan and Marlene decided to drive to Austin, the capital of Texas and increasingly, a center for music and art. One big draw for them was the Pecan Grove RV Park, which is smack-bam in the middle of the city and one of the country’s coolest trailer parks, according to many.

That all sounded great, but as we knew we’d soon be driving 1700 miles to New York and that our time in the trailer was quickly running out, we decided to go to San Antonio instead.

My friend Jesse is from there, and as we weren’t able to go to his wedding a couple of years ago, I wanted to see the place.

Also, San Antonio is home to…The Alamo, a place integral to two important things: American history and the movie ‘Pee Wee’s Big Adventure’.

History students learn about how the former Spanish mission was the site of a standoff between some 160 soldiers led by James Bowie, William Travis and including the likes of American frontier legend Davy Crockett, and the Mexican Army, led by Mexican President and General Santa Ana, in 1836.

Texas – or Tejas – had long been part of Mexico, first under the Spaniards and then under Mexican rule, after independence.
Anglo-Texans including Crockett, Sam Houston and Stephen Austin, many of whom had emigrated from federalist America and owned large ranches, decided that the province would do better if it were independent of Mexico.

After scoring a surprise victor over Mexican troops quartered in San Antonio, an emboldened volunteer army occupied The Alamo, long a strategic stronghold for the region,

Unexpectedly, Santa Ana himself came to stem the rebellion. Barricading themselves inside The Alamo, the separatists waited for days for the Mexicans to arrive, and then fought to the death during a battle that lasted 13 days – the soldiers were all killed, although the women and children hidden in an adjoining room were spared.

This event was the spark that ignited the separatists, who went on to win independence for Texas. Texas was in fact its own republic for 10 years, before becoming America’s 28th state in 1846.

In ‘PeeWee’s Big Adventure’, man-boy Pee Wee Herman embarks on a cross-country adventure in search of his beloved bike, which has been stolen by a neighborhood bully. Having been told by a fortuneteller that his wheels are in the basement of The Alamo, he heads to San Antonio, only to find out that the building has no basement.

The weather was not on our side: most of southern Texas was enduring a cold front, and we got rain – both normal and freezing. So we spent most of our time there indoors – eating at a great little Mexican place with homemade tortillas just across from our trailer park, having tea with Dave the Englishman and then enjoying the décor at an old German deli right in town. It wasn’t the right time to do the Riverwalk – a two-mile pedestrian walkway and park area along the San Antonio River.

But The Alamo was great. There were more people in costume (well, we think they were, but you never know in the Southwest), dressed as Mexican soldiers, Spanish colonists, Crockett & co, mustachioed rangers with guns (those may have been real), etc.

In Spanish, ‘alamo’ means cottonwood tree, but the tree dominating the outside of the complex is a huge live oak..

Inside, in the mission’s main room – costumed historians tell the tale of what happened within its walls. Further on is a small museum telling the story of the native Americans, Spanish colonial life, the Mexican era and Texas’ own developing culture.

Tea with an Englishman

2010-03-06T01:24:00.000-05:00

We arrived at our San Antonio RV park, which was on the wrong side of town, in the pouring rain.
Daniel always makes a point of arriving before dark, but today we did not achieve this. So we did not see a post on the side of the site, and crashed into it (at 5mph, so gently).
“HEY”, yelled a voice, which emerged from the window of a gigantic motorhome.
I hear the sound of an Englishman, I thought. So I asked the voice where it was from.
“Phoenix,” it answered, in a distinctly English accent.
“You don’t sound American,” I insisted.
“Do you know English geography?”, reluctantly asked the voice, which was coming into focus as hailing from the North.
Unfortunately, I did not know where Middlesborough was, but was told it was near the Scottish border.
The man, whose face I could eventually make out, didn’t seem that interested in our invitation to come in for a drink. So we left it at that.
When we emerged from the trailer into the next day’s hailstorm, he seemed friendlier: “Would you like to join us for a cup of tea?”, he called through a crack in the window, far above us.
But of course!
So into our first giant motorhome we went, satisfying our long held curiosity as to how proper RVers live.
We sat on two very comfortable opposing sofas, behind the plush driver and passenger seats. When I noted that this was the furthest Daniel and I had sat from each other in about nine months, the man – Dave – demonstrated his motorhome’s slide-outs. At the push of a button, a section of his $200,000 Monaco slid in and out with the barely a quiet whir. It was very exciting, so he demonstrated this a few times.
Sophia worked on her coloring, Lulu took advantage of all the space to crawl around, while Daniel and I drank Proper English Tea and heard about the life of Dave.
Dave, whose career in the merchant navy led to the private sector in the form of shipping and meteorology, is now retired. Spending nine months a year in his RV traveling around the US, he uses his professional knowledge to follow the sun – and the summer in England.
He was kind of confused as to why we would subject ourselves to such limited space, and such an old RV – and very worried about our shipping it to the UK – but was nice to us anyway.

Underworld

2010-03-06T00:55:00.005-05:00

Staying overnight at Sonora Caverns RV Park cost $15 a night – water and electricity included – but the guided tour of caverns themselves cost $20 per adult and $16 for kids 4 and over. Still, it was 21 miles from the nearest town, so we made due with dinner from cans and managed to stay under our $80 daily budget.

The girls and I had never been in a cave before, but Daniel had. We saw stalactites and stalagmites, and columns, which are a joining of the two. We spent a lot of time learning about caves – one hour and 45 minutes, to be exact: chandeliers, rooms, crystals and something toothpaste-like that may hold the cure for cancer. We had to be careful not to touch ANYTHING, as contact with bodies can mess with the living crystals inside a cave.

Our tour guide was a keen caver – don’t even think of calling her a spelunker…these days that term is an insult to the serious caver (the correct term).

We didn’t emerge with a burning desire to become cavers ourselves, although our guide had alluded to some pretty racy goings-on underground – old hippy cavers are apparently into naked ramen noodle wrestling, but she didn’t specify what the younger generation gets up to.

Families on the road

2010-03-06T00:42:00.003-05:00

Contrary to our assumption that Dan, Marlene & co would run screaming from our slow, chaotic lifestyle on the road, it turned out that they thought we were OK. At least OK enough to suggest that our families travel together across the bottom of Arizona and New Mexico towards Texas.

We were to spend the next two weeks together.

The two groups are approaching our road trips in slightly different ways: we are very much camping, while they are at home, everywhere. But we found ourselves to be very compatible.

Ava and Sophia became fast friends, united not only in their big sister-hood, but also Disney princesses, the color pink, arts and crafts activities, jewelry, DVDs, nail polish…and most importantly, the joy of running around and screaming like lunatics after a long day in the car.

With the two trailers always parked next to each other, the girls liked running back and forth between each other’s “homes”. Interestingly, each wanted to be at the other’s trailer as much as possible. The reason for Sophia’s preference was obvious: they had a TV. We were less sure why Ava liked our place so much, but it was great having her and we were able to keep her entertained with lots of coloring books, necklaces and DVDs on the computer.

Because both families had babies, no excuses were needed for the constant stops for diaper changes and feeds, the getting-the-baby-to-sleep jiggle dance, uncontrollable crying (the babies), exhaustion (the mothers) or one person doing all the driving (the fathers).

We cobbled together a joint lifestyle that seemed to work for everyone: slow mornings, fun day trips, drinks in the evening and potluck dinners. Luckily, they were very patient about our loose approach to bedtime wreaking havoc with their usual 8pm end-of-day. Although, as we moved East, I guess Ava and Mila sort of kept their routines – thinking in California time zones, that is.

It was fun having companionship on the road.

Swimming with the fishes

2010-03-06T00:21:00.004-05:00

On the advice of Rich Luhr, Dan and Marlene were keen to visit Balmorhea State Park, not too far over the Texas border.
And a good idea it was.
Set on a natural spring whose waters are warm year-round, the park is also home to a restored desert wetland area. Here, birds abound and the endangered pupfish thrives among the tall green grasses.
I specify green because it had been a very long time since we had seen anything green – apart from agaves, saguaros and other cactuses. Here, the air felt soft, and the sun no longer burned – we were, after all, several thousand feet lower than we had been for ages.

We even detected a hint of…springtime.
But back to the spring itself: the park’s main feature is its 77,053 square foot pool fed by the San Solomon Springs (22 to 28 million gallons of water pass through it each day!). Visitors are invited to swim, snorkel and even scuba dive, cohabiting with the area’s many types of fish and turtles.
So, at the end of February, the eight of us enjoyed a day at the pool. After a picnic, the girls splashed around and the adults snorkeled.

Having grown up swimming competitively, I have always loved swimming – fast.
Learning use the snorkel was scary – breathing under water does not come naturally. But Daniel, who has his PADI license, explained how to do it, and it was great.
Swimming just below the surface, making minimal splashes, regarding the fish – teeny and tiny – working to disturb their home as little as possible, appreciating the refraction of sunlight underwater, I achieved a previously unknown calm.
Which seemed like the perfect metaphor for this trip.

Along the border

2010-03-06T00:13:00.002-05:00

We entered Texas at El Paso, where Texas, New Mexico and Mexico itself meet.

Speeding along through the city along Interstate 10, we could plainly see Ciudad Juarez across the Rio Grande, looking very much like another country with its slanted roofed houses sitting precariously on hills traversed by dirt roads.

We had been close to the border since Arizona, listening to Mexican radio for some time and knowing that just over the mountains lay a very different place.

Having intended to spend Christmas in Baja California, we were swiftly discouraged against entering Mexico by everyone from my parents to the newspapers and fellow travelers.

Mexico is in the midst of a quasi-war between rival drug cartels based in Ciudad Juarez and Sinaloa, with additional cartels from Tijuana and the Gulf mixed in – plus the Mexican state’s own army. The battle for hegemony has led to the murders of thousands of Mexicans, many of them civilians. There have been countless muggings, beheadings and kidnappings.

So we decided not to go.

Later in Texas, we met a couple – one spouse from El Paso and the other from Ciudad Juarez. In the past, they’d just walk over the bridge between the two without a second thought. Now, they avoid going across for all but the most important family engagements. The wife spoke of her sister’s neighborhood constructing a fence around itself, her cleaner’s husband being murdered in broad daylight and the sadness she felt seeing her country destroyed.

Winter Olympics!

2010-03-05T23:45:00.004-05:00

We didn’t have a TV, so we missed out on most of the outlandish costumes, make-up and drama of the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver.

So we decided to hold our own Games, 60 or so miles outside Las Cruces, New Mexico, at White Sands National Monument.

Measuring 275 square miles, the dune field is made entirely of gypsum sand evaporated from nearby piles of gypsum crystals and then blown by the wind into rising meringue-like peaks.

(All you have to do is pretend you’re not next to the Missile Range, or Trinity Site, where the first atomic bomb was tested. The Monument closes on missile testing days). Also nearby – and less scary – are White Sands Space Harbor, a NASA Test Facility, the Sunspot Solar Observatory and the town of Truth or Consequences.

Sledding is encouraged here, so we spent the afternoon whizzing down the dunes on a plastic purple saucer purchased at the Visitor Center.

Everyone had a go, solo and with up to three riders – headfirst and feet-first, on backs and fronts. Boring a path into our favorite dune, we achieved infinite speeds, setting our own imaginary records and screaming with glee. With the world as her sandbox, Lulu had a blast.

As we were leaving, Daniel couldn’t help himself, leaping out of the car to complete an individual sand-surfing event with only the oncoming sunset to support him.

I was too worried to capture that one on video, but we did get some other events - see below.

Tombstone

2010-03-05T23:39:00.002-05:00

Another in the series of our mining town visits was Tombstone, Arizona, one of the most notorious and violent places in the Wild West.
This place is a total tourist trap, but so well done that you don’t mind. Main Street is set up as it always was – with saloons, hotels, theaters and the OK Corral. Most of the buildings are not original, since the town burnt down a few times, but they look like they are. And thanks to the town’s enthusiastic residents – most of whom are dressed up as cowboys, shady ladies or the Wyatts and their friend Doc Holliday – you really get a sense of what life must have been like.
We watched a reenactment of the Shootout at the OK Corral, had lunch at the Crystal Palace Saloon and visited the excellent museum at Tombstone Courthouse State Historic Park.
And bought a red felt cowgirl hat for Sophia. Julia has kindly sent her some hand-me-down cowgirl boots from LA, so the whole family will be ready and waiting for the next costume party.

The Shady Dell

2010-03-05T22:27:00.008-05:00

Our Airstream has spent most of our trip being dwarfed by giant Winnebagos and supersize fifth-wheels. More often than not, our trailer has been a quarter of the size of its neighbors.
These rigs are way more comfortable than ours, but it does seem that vintage trailers are lighter, more stylish and built to last.
What would a trailer park filled with beautiful RVs look like? We had been pondering this very question for nearly a year - before leaving England - even fantasizing about how we would fashion our very own trailer park.

So it was with great joy that we discovered the trailer park of our dreams, The Shady Dell, in Bisbee, an Arizona mining town a mile up in the sky.

Jen and Justin are the proprietors of this park-cum-hotel, which is comprised exclusively of 1950s trailers and memorabilia.

Here, guests spend the night in stationary RVs, pretending that they too are a product of mid-century Modernism.

On offer are 11 restored beauties like the
- 1949 21’ Airstream
- 1957 17’ El Rey
- 1954 12’ Crown
- 1957 gold painted Airfloat
- 1951 33’ Spartan Royal Mansion

as well as wackier options including the Tiki Bus (complete with Tiki bar) and Rita D Yacht, a 38’ Chris Craft Yacht, both dating from 1947.

Lest these vehicles fail to impress, The Shady Dell even has its own 1950s restaurant, the minute Dots Diner, which is open for breakfast and lunch Friday through Tuesday. With quality ingredients, the menu is very reasonably priced.

Also in the works is a drive-in movie theater, complete with classic cars to seat viewers.

Luckily for us, there are a few spots set aside for visitors with their own trailers. Paying a very reasonable $30 plus $10 for the girls, we were parked across from our new friends Dan and Marlene’s modern Airstream and a California lady’s beautifully redone light yellow painted 60s tin can.

What prompted the young couple to take on this amazing project?

The two, who had met thanks to their shared love of all things vintage – classic cars, antiquing, music – had stayed at the park under previous management and joked that they’d love to take it over. So two years ago, when Justin, by chance, saw that it was indeed up for sale, they did just that – about a year into their relationship.

The park had declined under the prior owners, so there was a lot to fix before Justin and Jen could set about adding their own touches.

Now, all the trailers are in perfect condition, all kitted out with true-to-era fabrics, furnishings and fittings. Some even come with record players and TVs playing period music and shows.

Visitors get so swept up in the spirit of the place that they plan costume parties and even weddings there.

Most often, they hail from nearby Phoenix and Tucson, but regularly come from further afield, with European countries like the UK, Netherlands and Germany being well represented.

In addition to being one of the most pristine parks we’ve stayed in, it’s also the most fun. Jen and Justin, and their right-hand man - Ken, who preceded them as manager by 12 years – genuinely seem to enjoy running The Shady Dell, even finding time to dress the part. Because it's so darn pretty, it's hard to venture off the premises. (If you do want to, though, Bisbee is a handsome town with well maintained 1800s buildings and a mine shaft a mile deep that's open to the public.)

They all live on site: Ken, in an immaculate Spartan, and Jen and Justin in a small, beautifully decorated apartment (whose few nods to the present include a carefully hidden color TV) behind the office.

Are they RVers, too? Of course: Their own red-and-white Shasta, which sits near the entrance, still gets to go on the occasional trip or rally.

www.theshadydell.com

Just as we had imagined

2010-03-05T21:41:00.005-05:00

Our arrival at Bisbee, Arizona marked the beginning of our Big Trip as we had imagined it. We met people like us, a family with young kids in an Airstream.

Seeing mention of Dan and Marlene Lin on another Airstreamer’s blog, I decided to get in touch. Internet dating for families. Lucky for all of us, the chemistry was good.

Like us, they have two daughters – Ava, who’s 3, and Mila, who’s five months old. Oh, and a cat named Yoda, also a girl. Dan says this is all part of his primal plan to ban males from his household.

Unlike us, they are working full-time while on the road. One-third of an internet-based start-up that helps media companies turn vouchers into cash, Dan mainly works mornings and nights but also has to be available to take calls during the day.

Managing two kids, an RV and travel plans, we have had very little time to do anything like read a book, write postcards or keep up to date with this blog. Adding real jobs to that is really hard to imagine.

Luckily, though, they do have extra space – in the form of a 25-foot Airstream, the same model we enjoyed staying in at the Las Vegas KOA. So they can put the girls to bed in their (separate!) bedroom, and then set up shop at the dinette table (which they never have to fold down into a bed).

They also have kids’ DVDs and toys aplenty, to keep the girls occupied when they need to work during the day.

The main drawback for them is the need for reliable phone coverage and internet connections, making remote stops – or visits to natural places - more difficult.

Having owned a small ‘teardrop’ trailer before having kids, they were familiar with the lifestyle, and knew that they wanted to simulate a home environment as much as possible.
So, after lots of preparation, they departed from their home in Ventura, California – just north of Los Angeles – with Key West, Florida as their destination.

A bit apprehensive about taking to the road long-term, though, they left their plans fluid – their house is empty and ready to go back to if they so decide.

If they manage to balance work, a home-on-wheels, travel and their kids, they could end up staying on the road for a year. Who knows?

For a sneak preview...

2010-02-28T09:39:00.000-05:00

We are REALLY behind on the blog, sorry about that. We've been socializing again.
With our new best friends, Dan and Marlene, who have not only an Airstream but two daughters: 3-year old Ava and 5-month old Mila.

They are much better at keeping up with their blog, so have a look if you want to see some of what we've been up to since Tucson:
www.malimish.com
It's a cute blog, and they've got lots of great photos.

We'll be back online in a couple of days - we are on the islands south of Corpus Christi, Texas now, heading up to Galveston, from where we'll be sending our beloved Airstream across the Atlantic to Southampton so that we can continue our adventures in the UK.

From there, we'll be racing back to New York in the car, hopefully arriving by March 6, my sister Annie's birthday. Not sure what the weather will be like, but we hope to avoid any of the snowstorms currently affecting the Eastern seaboard (hard to imagine here on the Gulf of Mexico). But we should have a constant stream of internet, so we'll let you know.

Stay tuned for updates on where we've been, plus accounts of life adjusting from our shiny home to mid-range motels and contemplating the Return to Real Life.

Wish us luck.

Claire, Daniel and the girls

Love from Texas (we owe you Arizona and New Mexico)

2010-02-27T23:23:00.000-05:00

Tucson

2010-02-19T14:56:00.003-05:00

The main reason for visiting Tucson was to see my great-aunt Hazel, a lady I’ve always admired. At 90, she gives even Barbara a run for her money.

She is the family matriarch, and as such holds lots of history in her head. We heard lots of good family stories.

Hazel and her now deceased husband Julius, who lived in Shaker Heights, Ohio, bought a house in Tucson 29 years ago, when they first decided to winter there and be closer to their son Robert. Eventually, they went full-time.

Tucson has grown a lot since then, with a lot of the empty desert having filled up with housing and developments.

But it retains a gentle character: lots of local businesses, good food and plenty of nature nearby. Plus, it’s nowhere near as hot or built-up as Phoenix.

We had a wonderful long weekend visiting with Hazel, Robert, his kids Michael and Alyssa, and another of Hazel’s sons, Philip, and his wife Nancy, who live in Ouvray, Colorado. It was fun catching up.

Our top attractions in Tucson were
• the excellent Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, which is a zoo, botanical garden and museum all in one. We particularly enjoyed exhibits on hummingbirds, bees and bobcats.
www.desertmuseum.org

• San Xavier del Bac Mission. Daniel and Barbara went early one morning, after dropping Hazel off at the airport, and enjoyed the sunrise over the sparkling white built-in-1770 Spanish mission with nary a fellow tourist. Daniel, the girls and I went back early Sunday afternoon, when there is an Indian market. We all ate what seemed to be the specialty: fried bread with fillings like beans, cheese, chili con carne and chiles.

• The Gem Show, an international convention held each February in Tucson. Robert took Barbara and Daniel on a whirlwind tour of the exhibition, and everyone ended up taking advantage of wholesale prices to buy some jewelry. I was the one who really lucked out here, Daniel came back with a bonanza I totally don’t deserve.

http://www.jogsshow.com/

• El Corral Restaurant, a real southwestern eating place. We took Hazel here on our last night in town, and the food (and margaritas) was excellent. Especially recommended are the steaks, grilled salmon and tamale pie. Yum!

http://www.elcorraltucson.com/

The other highlight of Tucson was meeting up with two other Airstream families and fellow bloggers at Fort Lowell Park playground:

- The Luhrs – Rich, Eleanor and Emma – we had met at the beginning of our trip in the Badlands. They traveled full-time in their 29.5-foot trailer for three years, before settling down under a real roof in Tucson. Whether or not he’s on the road, Rich works on his magazine, Airstream Life.
www.airstreamlife.com/maze

- The Lins – Dan, Marlene, Ava and Mila – we met online having seen a link to their blog on Rich’s own website. In a 25-foot International, they are on the road with 3-year old Ava and five-month old Mila. Very exciting to meet new friends on the road!
www.malimish.com

Wickenburg: where everyone looks like a historic character

2010-02-19T14:28:00.002-05:00

Wickenburg, Arizona, a former gold mining town north of Phoenix, was a contrast to Chloride. A lovingly conserved town, its citizens are without exception welcoming, with many of them going further and dressing all Wild West to support tourism (or maybe that’s just their look).

There’s a self-guided tour around town, allowing visitors to visit notable buildings around town and life-size Old West figures – with these, you press a button and the character tells its own story. There’s a vaquero (cowboy), gold prospector, prostitute, African-American female entrepreneur…plus a rattlesnake and tarantula thrown in to give people a scare.

Walking around town, we almost pressed buttons on characters that turned out to be people fully bedecked in cowboy hats, turquoise-and-silver jewelry and handlebar mustaches.

I succumbed to Western Fever, happily going along with Daniel’s suggestion that I get myself some pretty rockin’ cowgirl boots. Must start selling ads on the blog! Sophia didn’t like them, until we showed her that there was some pink embroidery.

As we walked out of the shop – a really cool place specializing in hand sewed saddles – a passing cowboy said, “Wow, those are some sexy boots.”

Yee-haw!!!

Wickenburg also a great little museum, the Desert Caballeros Western Museum – many of these Western towns have very thoughtfully curated museums chock full of local memorabilia and history.
www.westernmuseum.org

It’s nice to see towns that have outlasted mining booms and busts, and great when residents take such pride in where they live.

Too bad we missed its Gold Rush Days, where visitors can pan for gold, by just a few days.

www.wickenburgchamber.com/events.asp

Altercation in Arizona

2010-02-19T14:22:00.002-05:00

Without exception, every American we’ve met on our trip has been friendly and helpful. That is a lot of Americans. And we’re talking right wing, left wing, old, young, friends and strangers.

Until we got to Chloride, Arizona, a skeleton of a silver mining town just over the Nevada border.

There, we visited the visitor center cum gift shop to get a map of the town for a self-guided tour. And Barbara, whose love of gift shops ranks just below margaritas and museums, bought a couple of things.

I went in to take Sophia to the bathroom – asked where it was, the owner mumbled something about something or other not working so I said we could go somewhere else. He said that would be much better.

So we went to our trailer, climbed over all our in-transit packing, and used our own bathroom. And washed our hands.

RVs tend to have two tanks: one for black water, or human waste, and another for sink water. Our grey water tank is detachable, and stored in the trailer when we travel. So we didn’t put it on for one handwashing. Which is probably not the right way to do things.

Definitely do not ever do this in Chloride.

The visitor center man, whose shaggy beard and flannel shirt tucked into overalls made him look like a ghost town extra, ran outside, gesturing indignantly at a tiny puddle on the gravel parking lot.

“I’m going to report you!” he yelled at Daniel, who tried in vain to explain that the water was not dirty.

When I said that our four-year old had to use the bathroom, he spat “I don’t care if your kid has to take a leak!”

Unable to stay quiet, I added, “But we asked to use your bathroom and you said it didn’t work”.

“That’s a lie,” he grunted, so close to me that I could feel his breath and imagine his whiskers. I really thought he was going to push me over.

Chloride has no police station, did it rely on vigilante justice instead, like some of the other out-of-the-way places we’ve visited on this trip?

He stomped across the empty street, and then stomped back, his face echoing the oncoming storm brewing overhead.

“Do we need to wait for someone, the people you’ve reported us to?” we asked.

He looked at us like we were the crazy ones, and said, “no, they know all about you.”

“Who are they?”

“The EPA,” he retorted, infuriated.

“The Environmental Protection Agency?”

“Look it up in the phone book, or on your fancy computer,” he replied, stomping back into the shop.

So off we went, fairly quickly, in case anyone with guns showed up.

We wanted to sneak a photo of him, but were afraid. Plus, his wife was on the veranda of the shop, notebook and pen in hand. So we took a photo of the visitor center, through a closed window.

As we left, we caught glimpse of a giant billboard reading 'GUNS', advertising an upcoming gun show nearby.

Daniel’s new look

2010-02-19T14:16:00.003-05:00

In LA, Daniel bought his first-ever pair of chinos. In fact, he bought a set of two, from Zara.
Is he becoming Americanized?
He says he had always wanted a pair, but never found one that fit. That said, he credits Will, a member our adoptive LA family, for inspiring this double-purchase.
Will has forsaken three-piece suits for a more dressed-down shirt and chinos, sometimes adding a vest. His parents are pleased that he now unbuttons the top button, saying this took years to accomplish.
Here’s a great photo of Will, showing off his ‘Mad Men’ look.

Hoover Dam

2010-02-19T14:09:00.001-05:00

Just outside of Las Vegas is the Hoover Dam, which straddling Nevada and Arizona controls the Colorado River and ensures water gets to much of the desert Southwest. As a secondary benefit, the rush of water generates a lot of electricity.

Visitors to this massive manmade wonder – which was constructed at the height of the Great Depression to provide thousands of jobs - can walk over the Dam’s bridge and use the glorious, golden doored art deco bathrooms. Taking the tour gets you lots of facts and figures, plus a gratuitous use of the word “dam”, ie. “dam tour”, “dam nice”, etc.

Having driven through the sprawl of Las Vegas’ new developments – many of which look empty – we had wondered how such an arid climate could support so many people.

But it’s not just Las Vegas that has the Hoover Dam to thank – Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix are just some of the other places benefiting from this structure.

What they don’t really tell is the other side of the story – who lost out by the building of the dam? The Colorado River was notorious for flooding, but there’s always something that suffers when man intervenes in nature.
Also, there is much trumpeting about how the Southwest became habitable…but is it a good idea to ask the desert to support large populations of humans?

The guide, an official of the federal government, did point out what a vital resource water is, speculating that the next wars would be fought over water. He added that the Hoover Dam is the number 3 terrorist target in the US, behind New York and LA.

As such, there is a lot of security at the dam – checkpoints for cars, x-ray machines for people and their bags, and the officials get very upset if anyone strays. A new road is being built a bit further from the dam, so that non-tourist traffic doesn’t have to go over the main bridge.

Spare-stream

2010-02-19T13:48:00.003-05:00

Apparently, Airstream enthusiasts seeking both the vintage experience and comfort like to have two trailers: a cute, old one and a new, spacious one. This is called having a “Spare-stream”.

In Las Vegas, we got to do just that.

The city’s KOA offers two 25-foot 2009 Airstream Flying Clouds for rent, starting at $99 per night. They provide linens and full hook-up, and give a short intro to trailers for guests. So, it’s just like a hotel, on The Strip’s only campground. Part of the Circus Circus complex, it does offer a pool, slot machines and as much drinking in public as you like.

http://www.koa.com/where/nv/28138/

Desperate to know what life in a modern Airstream was like, we booked one.

Stepping in, Daniel exclaimed “We’ve just traveled four decades into the future!”

Jaws to the floor, we admired the trailer’s two flat screen TVs, microwave, built-in water filter, huge fridge/freezer, touch-of-a-button air con/heating system, separate shower and toilet rooms, spot lighting and copious storage.

And the space - that was the best part! A full foot wider than our little Caravel, this baby also had a separate bedroom with Queen-sized bed, with an accordion door. Luxury.

We celebrated Space with cocktails (margaritas for the adults, apple juice for Sophia and water for Lulu). Instead of speaking to each other, we all settled down to our own entertainment: news on the living room TV for Barbara, ‘Cats and Dogs’ DVD on the bedroom TV for Sophia (Daniel went back and forth), internet for me at the dinette and loads of crawl space for Lulu up and down the super-wide corridor.

Pizza for dinner, bedtime for the girls – who we were able to put in the bedroom until we went to bed – and then PBS (‘Antique Roadshow America’, for the adults.

Bliss.

We ended up staying four nights.

Spare-streaming: we can’t recommend it enough.

Viva Las Vegas (with kids)

2010-02-19T11:42:00.004-05:00

Las Vegas is exactly as you would expect. It looks just like all the photos, and all the types of people you imagine being there are there.

We know this because the first night, we drove up and down Las Vegas Boulevard, or The Strip, as it’s usually called. Each casino, or resort, is crazier than the last. There’s the one that looks like New York, another that’s Paris, one or two with rollercoasters, an Egyptian pyramid, a castle (Sophia’s favorite), etc.

The next morning, as we went about our extremely slow morning routine, Barbara went to Circus Circus, the casino next to our KOA campground. She came back fairly traumatized.

Once we got there, it became apparent that our end of The Strip was the less classy. It had yucky carpeting, a haze of smoke and really tacky souvenir stands. It was through there that we had to walk to get to Slots-A-Fun, the departure point for Las Vegas’ hop on-hop off bus, The Deuce.

As the bus inched up the street through pouring rain and Superbowl Weekend crowds (we heard on the news that the city’s hotel rooms were at 85% capacity), we wondered what the Bellagio – the home of a fine arts gallery – could hold.

There, we had planned to meet up with my high school friend, Danielle, and her husband Chris. They were taking advantage of her air miles to enjoy their first ever baby-free weekend since their daughter Mia was born last May.

We ended up having ice cream instead of fine art, which Barbara went alone to see. Danielle and Chris told us about their weekend of debauchery – wine at lunch, spa treatment, Danielle’s $1000 jackpot on the slot machines, etc. We could only fantasize. But, catching ourselves, we remembered that nine months off to travel the US wasn’t so bad either.

Once Danielle and Chris had said goodbye, fleeing our chaotic piles of baby gear and strollers, it was time to gamble.

Weaving our way past row upon row of game machines operated by zombies, cigarette and drink in hand, we set up camp a game with pictures of huge, gaudy gems (Sophia’s choice). Having put in a $5 bill, we realized we had no idea how to play it. So, off I went with Lulu in the baby carrier to the client services desk. No kids below 18 are allowed within ten feet of gambling, so I had to stand back and shout my question.

A lady sporting de rigueur Las Vegas pop-out cartoon boobs came back with us to the machine in question, then said Sophia had to move away from the games. So the girls and I found a tiny space on the floor that was a couple of feet away from games in all directions. Why, asked Sophia, couldn’t she play these fun, colorful games? These are games for adults, I answered, you can lose lots of money. How boring.

Needless to say, we didn’t win anything.

The best thing about the Bellagio – and one of our favorite attractions overall – was the hotel’s incredible fountain display, which featured dancing water that shot 100 feet in the air to the tune of piped in music, once an hour.

See video below.

A short walk down the strip in the rain later, we were back on The Deuce, headed towards Stratosphere, which is marked by a needle tower.

There, we went to Roxy’s Diner, a Happy Days style place with singing waiters and waitresses. As we waited for a table, four ladies on a fun weekend away danced energetically around a handsome waiter singing ‘My Girl’. Awesome!

Our meal, which was surprisingly good (burgers, mashed potatoes, catfish, washed down with beer), was accompanied by renditions of songs by Motown, Elvis and Patsy Cline…by waiters in slicked back hair and waitresses in poodle skirts.

Exhausted, we piled back into The Deuce.

The next day, Barbara attempted to see the Grand Canyon (bad weather prevented her jeep tour from reaching the scenic South Rim, and bad visibility stopped her from seeing anything from the West Rim).

We had a morning of admin, followed by an afternoon on The Strip.

First up was the Fashion Show Mall, where we got a new Apple charger and then enjoyed a fashion show (we had no idea!), featuring the clothing of one of the mall’s shops. Black-clad bouncers with earpieces hung around the catwalk, where a clock counted down the minutes until the show. Then, once the booming music started, an elevator rose out of the mall floor, filled with models. So much fun.

Sophia spent the rest of the day strutting around Las Vegas, workin’ it.

Before we could leave the mall, she marched me into Zara, where she had spotted some round-toed, round-heeled fuchsia vertiginous heels. I picked out a pair of black skinny jeans, and Daniel chose a checked shirt with fancy buttons. Thus, a new outfit was purchased. I was the lucky winner, for no good reason at all.

Once Sophia had picked out a bag – purple plastic with big, gaudy gems, we were off to The Venetian. Having picked a plum spot on a bench alongside the Grand Canal in the Piazza San Marco – where it’s always daytime - we enjoyed fantastic performances by a mime artist, court jester, opera singers, a man on stilts and troubadours. So we didn’t feel too bad about our (delicious) $24.30 gelatti.

The Venetian is very classy, populated by luxury shops and lots of Italians, who seem to feel very at home there.

Lulu was delighted at the opportunity to crawl all around the black-and-white tiled floor, and every last member of a Japanese tour group was delighted at the opportunity to take photos and videos of her doing this.

“So cute!”, they said.

On our way out of the hotel, the New Orleans Saints clinched their Superbowl victory over the Indianapolis Colts, sending white-hatted jocks running out of the bars, yelling and headbutting. Now that’s Americana.

On our final Deuce ride, we got talking to a man wearing sunglasses with hologram skulls – had to buy ‘em, he said, they were just $3. Instead of being scared, the girls seemed totally at home with him as he told stories of Dodge City, his hometown.

“The steaks and burgers you eat all come from there, we slaughter 15,000-17,000 head of cattle a day”, he said. Well. You learn something new every day.

There is no point analyzing or critiquing Las Vegas, it is just…Las Vegas: completely mental but also fun if you just take it at face value.

What’s definitely good about the place is that it provides employment for so many creative people – artists, musicians, interior designers, architects, florists, etc.

At The Venetian, I met a girl in the bathroom who asked what Vegas is like with kids (on her first weekend away ever, she missed hers terribly). “Two kids, what about grandma,” I said, adding “It’s got something for everyone”. And that’s the truth.

Back in the day, our Caravel fit SIX people!

2010-02-14T02:49:00.005-05:00

People think that a family of four living full-time in a 17-foot trailer is nuts, those that know we've added another person (Barbara, my mother-in-law) are incredulous. But in 1968, Airstream advertised its cute little Caravel as luxuriously sleeping SIX people.

See attached brochure as evidence.

Thanks to Airstream Life magazine publisher Rich Luhr for passing this on. His Caravel, a painstakingly restored one from 1968, is to be exhibited at this month's Modernism Week in Palm Springs, California.

www.airstreamlife.com

http://www.modernismweek.com/schedule/2_19_friday.htm

Can you spot the Airstream?

2010-02-09T04:42:00.003-05:00

More Death Valley photos

2010-02-09T04:31:00.004-05:00

In these photos:

1. Artists' Palette

2-3. Zabriskie Point

4. View into the Valley

Death Valley, and Looney Tunes

2010-02-09T04:21:00.004-05:00

We spent three nights in Death Valley, sleeping at the national park’s no hook-up Furnace Creek campground. At an elevation of -196 feet, it was blissfully warm, and also very cheap ($18 a night).

So we got excited, and by the time the third night rolled around, we had used up all our stored electricity. Which led to a stumble into the firepit (unlit, fortunately), a barbeque in the dark and a very no-fuss bedtime.

We enjoyed our campsite, which was dominated by an amazing honey mesquite tree and across from a fellow 1960s Airstream.

Apart from Badwater Basin, we enjoyed Golden Canyon, Artists’ Drive and Palette and most of all, Zabriskie Point.

Death Valley is a bit of a misnomer, as it does contain a fair bit of life. In our experience, it was very Loony Toons. By night, we heard the screams, howls and barks of coyotes, out on the hunt. And by day, a friendly roadrunner spent hours at our site, presumably waiting (very patiently, it must be said) for a scrap of food.
In vain, though, as you’re not allowed to feed the animals at national parks.

Under the sea

2010-02-09T03:56:00.005-05:00

Badwater Basin, at Death Valley National Park, is the lowest point below sea level (-282 feet) in the Western Hemisphere. The mountain you can see in the background towers 11,000 feet above it.
It's also a pretty inhospitable salt flat, stretching off into the distance.

Lulu, nine months old

2010-02-09T02:46:00.005-05:00

Lulu at nine months
Our little baby is now nine months old, meaning she’s been out as long as she was in.
And for most of those nine months, she has been on the road. ‘Una vida sobre ruedas’, like in the Pedro Almodovar movie ‘Carne Tremula’ when the protagonist – born on a city bus to a prostitute – wins a lifetime of free public transit in Madrid.

We hope she isn’t mad at us later for going on this big trip too early for her to have any memories – “But you’ve already been to Disneyland, Lulu”, we might say. Will she be a gypsy or a homebody?

Up until now, she’s been pretty patient.

But now this girl is on the move, and carseats are nothing but a hindrance.

So we do the best we can, finding ways to set her free in campgrounds, our tiny Airstream, The Venetian in Las Vegas (where every single person in a Japanese tour group took photos and videos of her crawling around), and the front seat of the car – while it is parked, of course – the steering wheel is a great way to practice standing.

Lulu lets us know when she’s mad, or teething (usually, these days), or just wants to make sure we know she’s there. Whereas Sophia’s scream was comparable to a fax machine, Lulu’s has been confused with the whistle of a boiling kettle. It’s amusing, unless it hits your eardrum at a certain angle.

There had been some concern that with Sophia as a sister, Lulu might appear in comparison to be a bit of a wallflower. Not so. She is ready for life and demands to participate in it, ASAP.

The girls are interacting more and more, really becoming friends and fellow extroverts. They are extra sweet to watch in the morning, when they are bright-eyed and entertaining each other…with the rest of us having to caffeinate to gear up for the day.

The girl can eat. Everything in sight, all the time. We are being a bit naughty, letting her taste things like ice cream, but it seems so unfair to let her watch the rest of us enjoy nice things.

Unfortunately for me, she has no idea what to do with a bottle, or a sippy cup. But normal cups and mugs work fine, so we’ll have to work with that.

Lulu is Not Blonde, but has hair that is light brown and slightly wavy with olive-y skin. She will be more like Daniel.

Despite that, though, Lulu is very much a mama’s girl. I think it will be a shock for us both when I go back to work.

She has spent her entire life with her entire nuclear family. We hope that compensates for her slightly strange upbringing so far.

I certainly can’t complain, it’s been so nice to be a stay-at-home mom, even if our home has been on wheels.

Mojave National Preserve

2010-02-09T01:45:00.006-05:00

Mojave Desert
Now this place is pretty desolate, at least it was for us…even as we are actually hitting a region (the deserts) at peak season.
I had been really excited to visit Kelso Dunes, which are singing dunes that boom and hiss when you slide down them. But there has been so much rain that the sand is too wet. Darn.

For us, the best part of Mojave National Preserve – which differs from national parks in that hunting is allowed – was Kelso Depot, a restored Mission Revival style train station along the Union Pacific Railroad. In its heyday, during the 1940s, the depot was host to trains carrying a daily load of 2,500 tons of low-grade iron ore hewn from a mine nearby. Boasting a reliable source of water in the desert, the station served Union Pacific employees as well as local residents.

If you've ever wondered how settlers went about naming places, here's what happened in Kelso: two guys put their names and that of their friend in a hat. The absent man (Kelso) won, and thus the town was christened.

Now, the Depot has been converted into one of the preserve’s main visitor centers, with the café reinstated to feed and water tourists and locals alike.

Trains still run through, though, and boy is it exciting to see those super-long freight trains close-up. Having breakfast at the cafe, you can start to imagine what it was like back in the day.

Unsure of where we were going to sleep that night - having decided to give the main campgrounds’ high altitude and dirt road access a miss – we stumbled upon an RV park that had fallen into disuse. Apart from the three or so residents, all of whom work at the Depot or on the railroad, the place is a ghost town – no toilet, no electricity, no water, nothing.

But there we stayed. All we had to do was give Julia, who runs the bookshop at the Depot, $10, our record low lodging spend!

Having enjoyed a chat with Larry, who told us we could indeed stay, we invited him in for a drink. What a guy. A former employee at the resuscitated Roy’s Motel & Café in Amboy along Route 66, he knows everything about the area.

We hard all about how Brad Pitt had offered to buy Amboy, how big the mark-up on Snickers bars is, how delicious the water at Kelso is, and what it’s like to grow up a Seventh Day Adventist.

Daniel said the whole experience reminded him of the movie ‘Baghdad Café’.

It was good to be back to basic camping, able to see the stars and enjoy a truly silent night, mostly alone in the high Mojave Desert.

A real oasis

2010-02-06T02:27:00.007-05:00

Thousand Palms Oasis: Coachella Valley, California - this oasis in the middle of the Mojave Desert is fed by groundwater forced up by the San Andreas Fault. The two groves of palm trees and the oasis ponds have been left completely untouched, not an ice cream stand in sight.

Joshua Tree National Park

2010-02-06T02:09:00.004-05:00

Photos from our day out at Joshua Tree National Park

1. Cholla Grove

2. Joshua trees

3. Daniel now owns two pairs of chinos

4. Sophia & cacti

5. Burritos in the park

Babs does Hollywood (and LACMA)

2010-02-04T14:05:00.005-05:00

Image and video courtesy of Julia

Culture

2010-02-01T03:40:00.001-05:00

Here’s a brief rundown of the Culture we have participated in since Barbara’s arrival:

- California Academy of Sciences, San Francisco: the city’s newest museum, dedicated to natural history, it features a brilliantly arranged rainforest, aquarium and planetarium. I think it’s worth the hefty $25 entry fee ($15 for kids ages 4-11), which presumably covers the upkeep and large, smiling staff – two of whom are exclusively dedicated to preventing butterflies from escaping the top level of the rainforest (one as you enter the elevator, and one as you leave it – this second part includes a sweep under strollers, a favored butterfly hideout.

- de Young Museum, San Francisco:

- SF MOMA

- National John Steinbeck Center, Salinas: a modern, interactive museum dedicated to the life of John Steinbeck, whose writing heavily featured the people and agriculture of the Salinas Valley, where he grew up. A second part of the museum tells a detailed history of the produce grown in this fertile area. Daniel and I are reading ‘America and Americans’, a series of essays and letters written by Steinbeck. We were interested to learn that Steinbeck himself went on a cross-country USA trip with his dog in an RV – a slide-on cleverly named ‘Rocinante’. His travels are documented in ‘Travels with Charley’, which we plan to read next.

- Getty Villa, Los Angeles: one of the homes of oil magnate J Paul Getty, modeled on the ancient Roman house Villa dei Papiri, and built to house his collection of Etruscan, Roman and Greek antiquities. The staff was keen to point out that Getty’s house was an exact replica, rather than a pastiche of European styles, as favored by contemporaneous mogul William Randolph Hearst. The setting along the Malibu coast was stunning, and the free entry appreciated. Accustomed to the vacant stares of most Greco-roman statues, we were startled by the demonic painted on eyes of the statues here. We can highly recommend the museum’s food, especially the very reasonably priced platter of raisin-walnut toast, three cheeses, almonds, dates, apricots and figs.

- Getty Center, Los Angeles: the jewel in the crown of LA’s museums, whose best quality – for me - is their indoor-outdoor architecture. This all-white Richard Meier masterpiece floats between the mountains and the sea, and includes multi-leveled landscaped gardens.

- LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art): Another indoor-outdoor marvel, this one featuring contemporary art and its own American wing, which Barbara and Daniel particularly enjoyed.
This was also the scene of a near misplacement of Barbara, who wandered off to another museum and left Julia frantic, the co-star in her own surreal thriller.

- El Capitan Theater, Hollywood: Daniel, Barbara and Sophia went to see ‘Dumbo’ at this Disney-owned 1920s movie theatre on Hollywood Boulevard.

Pictured: The Getty Center, over and over again

Starring role in a Russian novel

2010-02-01T03:19:00.004-05:00

Our friends from the restaurant, aka the Johnson-Marcils, know no end to kindness. Whether it’s a fervent strain of the fabled Southern hospitality, or a cure for writer’s block, we do not know.

Will says it gives them bragging rights (“ah, yes, our friends from London are in town, I was up with them until eleven”, he must say to classmates), Chris says the Airstream looks cool in front of their house, and Coco likes playing mother to our two daughters, especially if she can hold Lulu. Grandmother promises it’s just fun having extra people around.

Julia, the ringleader, says a full house gives her the sense of living in her very own Russian novel.

Assuming that this – an additional grandmother, two parents, a preschooler and a baby – is a good thing, which Russian novel would this echo?

As we departed LA - having declined to stay another additional day - we went around the car, naming the way the family had been most generous to each of us.

Barbara said it was the time Julia spent showing her sights in LA (the photo at the Hollywood sign, the ride to nearby Larchmont – modeled on the Westchester town, apparently, the visit to the Hollyhock Frank Lloyd Wright house), shopping mall extraordinaire The Grove.

Daniel most appreciated the kids giving up their bedrooms to give us a bed to sleep in: the girls, he and I slept in Coco’s room on her bed and an air mattress; while Barbara had Will’s room. I think he also liked going to Julia’s art class our final evening (see attached illustration of beetroot).

Sophia thought hard and said it was the hand-me-downs (copious amounts of beautiful clothes and jewelry, much of it Not Pink) she most liked.

For me, it was Julia’s maneuvering to get me three hours on my own…and later the same day babysitting so that Daniel and I could go for a drink – our first time out together on our own since Lulu was born – yippee! So of course the cozy wine bar was called Lou, and of course we ended up becoming friends with everyone behind the bar and at it. Oh, and Grandmother’s insistence that I take a nap.

If Lulu could choose her own favorite feature of the Marcil-Johnsons, it would probably be the opportunity to live in a real house, with a cast of characters happily scooping her up and her very own doctor to give her a proper check-up. Julia said Lulu’s welcome to move in with them, something that may become appealing, especially if night feeds continue at the current pace.

Pictured:
Julia, who is photo-shy. This is the best we could do.
Coco and her princess protege, Sophia
Daniel's pen-and-ink rendition of the Johnson-Marcil house

The importance of margaritas

2010-02-01T03:17:00.001-05:00

Everyone likes margaritas, and these are quickly becoming our house drink. Barbara’s newfound love of the tequila-based drink may even challenge the hegemony of cold white wine.
Her first contact with margaritas took place at dinner with my parents, when she had a sip of my mother’s cocktail. She was not convinced until about three nights later, when we ordered three margaritas at the neon-lit burrito joint Los Coyotes, in San Francisco’s Mission neighborhood.

Since then, we’ve had margaritas at a Chinese restaurant in a Danish village, at Soo-Hyun and Joseph’s (guava syrup and Trader Joe’s margarita mix being the key ingredients) and finally, Barbara’s own, served in the trailer.

Please send your recipes – we promise to test them!

Now we are five

2010-02-01T03:12:00.003-05:00

Most people we meet admire our sense of adventure, saying we are brave to take our young daughters on the road for an extended trip. Others go further, calling us wise to take advantage of a window in our lives where such an opportunity to travel presents itself. Still others wholly disapprove, suggesting that we are irresponsible parents, putting our own wanderlust ahead of our children’s needs.

Everyone, though, is intrigued to know that we are adding one more person to the mix: Barbara, Daniel’s mom, who will be traveling with us for 3-4 weeks.

“How is it going with your mother-in-law?”, people whisper to me.

Just fine, actually. Barbara’s incredibly intrepid, for an 82-year old, or for someone of any age, for that matter. “I’m no longer a passive reader of the adventure, I am now IN the adventure”, she exclaimed, upon arrival at San Francisco International.

Provided she’s given a cold glass of white wine in the evening, and regular doses of Culture – preferably in the form of museums – she is game for anything.

Nevertheless, we decided to start out slowly, easing her into life in a seventeen-foot trailer.

So, in San Francisco, we rented an apartment in the Haight. Daniel, Lulu and I had the bedroom, with Barbara and Sophia shared the living room, sleeping on separate pull-out sofas. Sophia decided that this made Barbara her playmate, that they would watch Disney DVDs and play Littlest Pets together.
The apartment provided welcome shelter from the five consecutive storms that assaulted the California coast over the course of a week, and gave us an economical way to feast on the state’s excellent produce and wines.

From there, we moved into hotels.

The Super Eight in Monterey (best décor yet in the budget category), where we enjoyed a Mark West Pinot Noir and a fine dinner of organic salad leaves, sautéed tuna, rice and green beans, leftover from the previous night’s dinner and prepared in the microwave.

Once we worked out a diplomatic resolution to the battle for TV primacy: Barbara’s news vs. Sophia’s cartoons (plus, ideally, a half an hour to watch Jeopardy!), it was smooth sailing.

The next two nights found us at the Kronborg Inn in Solvang, Central California’s only Danish village. This establishment featured our largest room yet AND our own door opening directly onto the heated pool and Jacuzzi.

Having downloaded our first movie ever from iTunes – a huge advance for Luddites - we put the girls to bed and crowded around the laptop to watch ‘Sideways’, a mid-life crisis wine adventure set in the Santa Ynez Valley, where we were staying.

Our final hotel stop took us to the heart of Hollywood – the Best Western on Franklin Avenue, very well appointed with super-comfy beds, a marble shower for two and gelatin print black-and-white photos of Hollywood legends. Through the lobby was the fantastic Café 101, a 70’s décor diner with friendly staff and great food.

After four nights chez Johnson-Marcil, we moved into the trailer. We picked an upscale RV park, Sam’s Family Resort in Desert Hot Springs. Here, for $44 a night, we bask in views of serrated mountain ranges – stony, grey, blue, snowy – sweepingly brush-stroked pastel desert sunsets and our very own full mooned night sky. Included in the price is a leisure complex, complete with heated pool, four hot spring fed pools, waterfalls, pond and gardens. Nice.

So far, we’ve slept in two configurations: (1) Daniel, Lulu and I on the double bed, with Sophia and Barbara on the top and bottom respective bunks of the new bed designed and built by Daniel, and (2) Lulu, Sophia and I on the double bed, with Barbara and Daniel on the top and bottom bunks.

Updates to follow shortly – wish us luck!

Pictured:
- Daniel, Sophia, Barbara, Lulu and Connie Bruce. Cousins Barbara and Connie were reunited in Mill Valley, CA after about 60 years. Lots to catch up on
- Barbara and fellow octogenarian Grandmother aka Sue
- Claire, Lulu, Sophia and Barbara at the Getty Center, Los Angeles

Our day in the O.C.

2010-02-01T02:58:00.001-05:00

Jana, our friend from London, was in San Clemente visiting her parents with her daughter Makenna and baby son Ashton, so we went down for the day. A native Southern Californian herself, Jana, made up a nosh-fest picnic so we could all enjoy an afternoon on the town’s gorgeous beach. Jana’s charming mom joined us, the kids ran around and we all stuffed our faces.

Some more Disneyland photos

2010-01-26T16:08:00.001-05:00

Disneyland is awesome!

2010-01-26T15:53:00.004-05:00

Go ahead, say what you will about Disneyland: it represents everything that’s wrong with America, consumerism, the decline of culture, etc, etc.

Then try going to the Anaheim, California amusement park – you will have to work very hard not to be won over. Your cynicism might last a couple of hours, boosted by fellow tourists in matching t-shirts, overpriced junk food and the high entry fee.

Soon, you will notice how clean everything is, how efficiently it all runs, and how darn happy everyone is – we’re talking about the visitors AND the employees. Just make sure to avoid ‘It’s a Small World’, unless you want to have a really cheesy song stuck in your head for the next week.

Then, you will find yourself happily buying Made-in-China princess tiaras, $7.95 helium balloons and bubblegum-pink cotton candy. Because it’s fun, it makes everyone happy, and what more justification do you need than that?

After that, you may even find yourself skipping around and buying your own princess tiara, or Mickey Mouse ears.

The rides are really well done, with great music and art direction. Our favorites were the epic ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ boat ride, submarine adventure ‘Finding Nemo’ and the ‘Mad Tea Party’ spinning teacups.

We were lucky that Sophia is over 40 inches tall, since that meant she was able to go on all the big rides, the rollercoasters. Actually, it meant that she had to go on the 50-foot drop Splash Mountain, alpine adventure Matterhorn and Wild West-themed Big Thunder Mountain not once, but twice – once with me and once with Daniel. (She got so into rollercoasters that she daringly raises her arms when we go up and down big hills in the car).

She only faltered once: declining a second ride after one go on Space Mountain, a lurching, space-themed rollercoaster in the dark.

Despite this bravado, her absolute favorite moment of the day was the Disney Princess Fantasy Faire, where kids get to meet their movie heroines. Aurora, Ariel, Belle, et al were superb, gracefully and theatrically staying in character even when speaking to colleagues. They all hugged Sophia, asked about her dreams and fantasies and then froze their beautiful gazes for the camera. I don't know whether the photos catch the wonder, glee and amazement in Sophia's eyes.

One piece of advice: if you can, go to Disneyland mid-week, when school is in session, and it’s forecast to rain. We did, and barely waited in a single line.

Thanks so much to Kristyn, our friend from the KOA campground at Santa Margarita Lake, whose friend Ramona, a Disney employee, totally hooked us up with free tickets!!! (That said, the experience is 100% worth the $62/$72 one-day entry fee.

Nomi-n-Sophia, BFF

2010-01-26T15:19:00.002-05:00

Now that we are really about to leave LA, Sophia’s had to say goodbye to her new BFF.

She has been talking seriously about marrying Nomi, which has both sets of parents very excited. It will most likely be a Korean-British themed wedding, which means lots of kimchi followed by fruitcake. And a good selection of teas.

(Elisa and Eric, you had better book your tickets now!)

Logistics might be an issue, as they live 6,000 miles apart. Sophia is talking about going to school in California, to be closer to Nomi. We just have to work out how to pay for healthcare.

Here is the happy couple, photographed by Nomi’s dad, Joseph Cultice, as part of a portrait series he is compiling.

www.josephcultice.com

A quiet day in Southern California

2010-01-16T07:01:00.002-05:00

When Lisette texted to say that she and Carolyn wouldn’t be able to go on the Beverly Hills celebrity bus tour, we were quietly thankful.

Our social life had been frenetic since the return to LA on December 29.
We liked living like real LA people, commuting 34 miles between our outpost at the RV park in Anaheim and friends much closer to the center (is there a center?), but desperately needed a Quiet Day – no culture, no socializing, no driving.

Kicking back after a pancake breakfast, we settled into another cup of coffee.

The weather being as fantastic as it was, we went for a dip in the pool (open year-round and heated to 85 degrees) opposite our trailer, and then tested the Jacuzzi. We sat back and admired the lines of palm trees, pausing when we discovered that the really tall one behind the Airstream was a very well disguised phone mast.

Sophia watched ‘Tom & Jerry’ on the computer, and Lulu crawled around, energetically pulling herself up at intervals.

The freeway hummed in the not very far distance.

We ate some more, and then Daniel’s brother Tim’s friend Brian came over for a barbeque and told us how amazing and full of opportunity LA is.

After he left and the girls were in bed, Daniel and I watched the nightly fireworks at Disneyland, just over the fence.

I hadn’t worn shoes all day long, life was good.

Our friends from the restaurant

2010-01-16T06:57:00.003-05:00

When you speak to strangers at a restaurant, do you invite them to your house?
We know some people who do just that, and more!

Three years ago, Daniel, Sophia and I went to dinner with my parents, my sister and her husband at the Bridge Café near South Street Seaport in New York. Sophia had just learned to walk, and was toddling all over the place – mostly up to other people’s tables and into the kitchen.

Respite arrived in the form of Will, a nine-year old from LA jauntily dressed in a three-piece pinstriped suit (his mother, Julia, said he never dressed down). He spent the next few hours entertaining Sophia – at and under our table, and that of his family. Daniel and I enjoyed the rare treat of sitting back for a nice meal, a drink and a chat with our family.

At the end of the meal, Julia took down our email address and said that if we were ever in LA, we would have to visit them.

So three years later, we did.

Julia, a writer of magazine articles, screenplays and now a novel, suggested that we park the Airstream outside their house and said we were welcome to use the facilities and have breakfast inside.

I think we initially took up their offer because it was so crazy. We suspect that they invited us to stay for the same reason.

Julia and her husband Chris, who is a comedy writer for TV shows including ‘Frasier’ and ‘Beavis and Butthead’, live in Hollywood. Also residing there are Will, now a more mellow (waistcoat, but no jacket) 12 years old, their ten-year old extrovert daughter Coco. Grandmother, who at 81 is still a practicing doctor, lives there part-time.

The first night, we were invited to a pizza dinner. The second night, to Grandmother’s birthday party. The third night, room was offered in the driveway, and there was talk of sleeping in Coco’s bedroom once Julia’s niece and nephew – in town to support Alabama at the big national college championship football game against Texas at the Rose Bowl – returned to Birmingham, Alabama.

All the while, Julia provided excellent suggestions for things to do in LA, the whole family played with the girls, and Will asked when I would be updating the blog – noting that the last entry was December 17, and printing out pie charts showing readers’ countries of origin.

After two nights, we had to go. We felt too guilty, and were unsure what – if anything – we were providing in return.

We did return, though, on our way out of LA en route to San Francisco. Airstream-less (the trailer is spending the next week at C&G Trailers, a repair shop that has been highly recommended up and down the West Coast), we were upgraded to a specially converted suite in Coco’s room, edging the poor girl out of her own bed, on a school night.

Once we return with Daniel’s mother, Barbara, we are invited to stay with them once more.

We have been adopted.

Promiscuity

2010-01-16T06:15:00.002-05:00

Since we got to LA, we have done a terrible job at keeping up with the blog.
The excuse is rather fabulous: we have been leading a very active social life!

One could even say we’ve been promiscuous. We hope we haven’t taken advantage.

Everyone has really gone out of their way to be incredibly kind to us. We hope we can do nice things back to them, and soon.

Because it’s unclear whether our friends in LA know just how much we get around, we had better come clean about our dalliances, right here, in chronological order.

• Our friends from New York: Soo-Hyun and Joseph, who I met ten years or so ago - through Stephanie, who singlehandedly spins huge networks of smart, talented, fun friends – moved to LA from New York about a year and a half ago. They felt like a change, plus it made sense for work – Soo-Hyun had won a place at a screenwriting lab in LA, and Joseph’s photography often took him to the West Coast. Plus, the chance to swap an apartment for a house and garden would give their son Nomi plenty of space to play.

The night we rolled into LA, they greeted us not only with a dinner party but a spot in their driveway to park our Airstream for three weeks. Plus, they put us up at their house (see photo 1), and then at Soo-Hyun’s sister Chi-Yoon’s, where we did some light cat-sitting.

Throughout our time in LA, they’ve welcomed us into their Atwater Village home/clubhouse/workspace, sharing many a meal, drink and essential LA tip (such as using one’s GPS to avoid getting hopelessly lost).

Nomi and Sophia have become BFFs, playing for hours at a time without fighting. They even manage to merge his-and-her games into something that works….for example, Mommy and Baby Spock.

It must be serious: Sophia is considering marrying Nomi.

• My former Brooklyn flatmate: Lisette “Lisi” Linares – another point in Stephanie’s magical web - was one of my flatmates in Williamsburg 13 years ago. She is – of course – the one person we know who has starred in reality TV (‘Survivor: Fiji’) and had an electropunk hit in France.

She and her girlfriend Carolyn, who moved to West Hollywood from Miami seven years ago, are so much fun and pick out the best kids’ gifts. Like the British accented phonics game Sophia calls the “punch-button-er”, a Hannah Montana doll and Lulu’s glow in-the-dark, spinny-roundy, smiley-faced rattle/teething ring. We have a Beverly Hills celebrity bus tour pending.

• My former Michigan flatmate: Laura, who’s been mentioned before on this blog – she’s the ONE person so far to join us for a spot of camping!

Laura, who moved to LA to study Spiritual Psychology at the University of Santa Monica - has hosted us in not one but two houses in LA – the first in Mid City and the second in Los Feliz – all while starting a new job, moving and having her mom to visit. As if that weren’t enough, she also drove us to LAX at 5 in the morning and looked after our car for two weeks.

• My childhood friend: Elisa doesn’t live in LA, but was in town with her boyfriend Eric en route to New Zealand (their hobby is spending all their time and money going to weddings all around the world). Their friend Elizabeth threw a very elegant New Year’s Eve Eve party for them, so we all (Spring-Landons, Soo-Hyun, Joseph and Nomi) got to tag along.

• Our friends from the restaurant: This one probably merits its own posting, so maybe it will become one. See below.

• Daniel’s brother’s friend: Brian Parsons, Tim Spring’s good friend from a long time ago – we’re still not sure where – moved to LA a year or so ago to head up the theatre department at USC.

He is loving life in Marina del Rey, dating a beautiful German and has no intention of ever leaving. He joined us for a barbeque at our RV park in Anaheim, it was great fun.

• Our friend from the campground: Kristyn, who we met on our extended stay-cation at Santa Margarita Lake – she spent a weekend staying in the cabins with her university friends – totally hooked us up with Disneyland tickets. Her friend Ramona works for Disney and signed us into the park.

We went to some galleries with her as well, and hope to see her again.

A compelling case for LA

2010-01-16T06:05:00.005-05:00

LA is nothing like we had imagined.

I had always assumed it was a vacant city, full of isolation, fake boobs and broken dreams.
Daniel had foreseen an endless sprawl of suburbs/ex-urbs, connected by a tangle of freeways. Well, he is right about that.

But the City of Angels is, in fact, a fantastic place to live. And a malleable one. Our friends Olivia and David, who've been there for nine years or so, described it as being so immense and so varied that it becomes whatever you make it - as opposed to a city with a character so overwhelming that one has no choice but to conform. To build your own bespoke LA, though, they say you must employ both time and effort.

Like London, LA is a conglomerate of neighborhoods, each with its own distinct character. But unlike London, it boasts
a-m-a-z-i-n-g weather all year round…and palm trees, everywhere!

Most people get to live in a house – usually a single-floor bungalow – with a backyard and trees bearing more fruit than you could ever realistically eat. This seems to be true in good areas as well as less desirable ones. Accommodation, especially if it’s rented, sounds like it’s reasonably priced.

It's easy to find great food from many nations and cultures, as long as you avoid Burrito King in Silverlake. Daniel, who never complains, suffered for three days.

Generally speaking, the population appears pretty happy – everyone likes to say “hi” on the street. It’s fun, and catchy. We like to say “hi” back. People talk a lot about movies and TV shows, referencing actors and famous lines - something unfortunately lost on us, most times.

The major drawback, of course, is all the driving. Most people seem to drive one to a car, guided by GPS, which could certainly lead to a feeling of isolation. We don’t know if it’s this sense of isolation that makes the vast majority of the population fail to signal when driving, and think that texting/emailing/talking on the phone while on the freeway is a good idea.

For more information on driving in LA, please see Julia Johnson's proposed book 'Free Parking and Treacherous Highways'.

But apart from that, the people are pretty cool.

Intermission

2010-01-09T18:37:00.003-05:00

Apologies for the silent period, Skippin’ Town took an extended holiday – timed perhaps to coincide with that of the Los Angeles public schools – and is only now back on the computer and back on the case.

Over Christmas, we cheated. We flew back to New York to spend two weeks with the Landons.

US internal flights have changed a lot over the last ten years – now there is way less staff and way more chaos at the airport (and this was BEFORE the attempted Christmas Day plane bombing over Detroit). It is worse than flying Ryan Air, way worse.

Seeing our trip in quick rewind was cool, though. Thanks to clear weather all the way from LA to Lake Michigan, we enjoyed views of the calm Pacific Ocean, California’s various sierras, the overextended sprawl of Las Vegas, the Nevada and Utah deserts, the highest points of the Rocky Mountains (which we had dared not traverse by car), the great expanses of the Great Plains and then the snowed over grid-farms of the Midwest.

We had hesitated in our decision to spend two weeks in a house, stationary.

Daniel had been concerned that in the overabundance of space - a quick internet search yields no antonym of claustrophobia – my parents might find us all huddled in the bathroom.

But we coped just fine. In fact, we thrived. We all slept in real beds, dried ourselves with fluffy towels and drank from breakable drinking vessels. We watched TV, used indoor showers (and baths!) and upgraded our morning instant coffee brand to Starbucks’ new VIA (which is actually really strong and tasty, with less need for adulterating).

Lest we endure boring weather, we were hit with a blizzard and then a December heatwave, leaving in time to catch only the start of high winds but miss a long run of freezing temperatures.

Sophia turned 4, celebrating with two parties – one for adults (sausage for dinner, followed by one of Daniel’s famous cakes) and one for kids (gingerbread making followed by pass-the-parcel). I turned that plus 30, we had make-your-own-burritos, Daniel’s super-strength homemade margaritas and my mother's famous Teddy's Apple Cake.

Starting the Christmas season as late as possible was a pleasure this year. We all attended ONE Christmas party - at Danielle and Chris’ apartment on the Upper East Side, in the midst of said blizzard. I think we were the only family with small kids setting out for the City as snow overtook most of the East Coast, but it was great, everyone had fun and the trains ran on time. Driving home from the station, Daniel said my father’s Toyota Camry handled better than our giant truck.

Christmas – a White one - itself was really special. For me, it was my first time home for the holidays in six years or so, and for Daniel and the girls, their first ever. Spending the day with my parents, my sister Annie and her family was really fun. The kids had a presents bonanza and still managed not to go nuts. The food was delicious and the family, numerous. My parents refused to let anyone help clean up and then came down with massive colds.

We had just the right amount of entertainment (the bijou Big Apple Circus and Disney’s ‘The Princess and the Frog’, the Christmas decorations at Rockefeller Center and on Fifth Avenue, ‘The Wizard of Oz’ on TV), culture (American Folk Art Museum and the Met) and socializing with friends, to balance out early nights, long baths, lots of reading and time catching up with my parents – my ever patient parents who continue to be supportive of our trip…possibly despite some misgivings about our sanity.

And Lulu learned to crawl.

Loathe to leave Comfort, we were still ready to return to our adventure...aware that we'd be back in New York in just over two months.

Happy Holidays from Skippin' Town!

2009-12-17T23:11:00.003-05:00

Dear friends,
Wishing you a very Happy Holiday from New Rochelle, New York, where we are enjoying a brief respite from our cross-country adventure.

It's freezing cold here, but who cares when you're under a real roof!? Yes, we have at times questioned our sanity in taking this trip, but we do expect to return with renewed vigor to part II of our travels.

Over the holiday, we will catch up with some posts that never managed to get written.

In the meantime, we wish you, your families and friends a Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Kwanzaa, etc, and of course a happy, healthy and prosperous 2010.

Love from Claire, Daniel, Sophia & Lulu

Bathing baby

2009-12-17T23:06:00.003-05:00

Here is a photo of our Lovely Lulu in the bath. Yes, she still **just** fits in the sink of the Airstream's amazingly feature-filled bathroom, which sits across the back of the trailer.

Daniel thinks it's not good use of space, and spends hours daydreaming of converting it into a bedroom, but for now it is intact and works a charm for bathing a 7-month old baby.

Back to bedmaking

2009-12-17T23:00:00.003-05:00

Try as he might, Daniel couldn't stay away from DIY - or bedmaking - for long.

During our two-week stay-cation in Santa Margarita Lake, he designed and built bunk beds for the Airstream. This has totally transformed our life inside the trailer: Sophia, who sleeps on the top bunk, now has her own room, Barbara will have her own room when she comes to visit, and during the day, we have a whole new place to put stuff!

Thanks to the Santa Margarita Lake KOA for letting him borrow the drill!

Some of Daniel's paintings

2009-12-07T19:02:00.002-05:00

Napa Valley and the Badlands

Marshmallows and pancakes

2009-12-07T18:53:00.002-05:00

Still on stay-cation

2009-12-07T18:05:00.005-05:00

It’s now been almost two weeks since we arrived at our campground, the one at Santa Margarita, for almost two weeks.

The KOA staff now feels like family (they said they feel the same way), and we’re getting the monthly rate.

We’ve lost track of the days and were surprised to find out last Friday that it was the weekend. Once we found out, we got excited. New people! Kids for Sophia!

There was a decent influx of new campers, and the ones we became friends with was a big group of university friends reuniting from all over California. Spread across four or five of the cabins, they numbered thirteen adults, four or so babies and two kids aged 5 and 9.

Meeting them on our morning walk to the showers, Sophia and I were immediately invited to join them in the evening. Which we did, after watching ‘Shrek II’ on the computer.

They were all really cool, telling us about themselves, how they met, what their couple/family/friend formations were….and apple pie.

I got on really well with one of the girls, Krystyn, who had taken here older daughter out of school to spend three months with her husband in Switzerland. Now that she has a new baby, she's on extended leave from work. Hopefully we'll all meet up in LA.

One guy in particular could not understand what we had been doing for the last ten days. Once pressed, we couldn’t really say.

We’ve been doing lots of laundry, working on Sophia’s birthday party invitations and our Christmas cards, and getting our car looked at every couple of days.

The fuel pump has been replaced, with the mechanic saying the other new one we got before setting off from New York may not have really been new. He also replaced some other, smaller parts, so the ignition is working really well.
Today, he’s trying to figure out why we get occasional misfires, and why the ‘service engine soon’ light sometimes goes on. This, they are doing for free, since we’ve become such good customers.

Given today’s torrential rain, they even dropped Lulu and I off at the local Starbucks – to give updates, they call Daniel and send me email updates. Sophia and Daniel are back at the campground working on building bunk beds in the Airstream.

We’ve explored the area quite a bit, visiting nearby San Luis Obispo, Paso Robles and Atascadero – this last one we now know like the backs of our hands, and people are starting to wave at us.

Yesterday, we could no longer ignore Hearst Castle, the Mediterranean pastiche dream home of publishing magnate William Randolph Hearst. Set up on a rugged mountain overlooking the Pacific, built tirelessly by the architect Julia Morgan and home to many a glamorous party back in the day, it was pretty impressive.

With a very theatrical lady as a guide, the tour was 1 hour and 45 minutes long and followed by a highly produced movie on a giant screen.
We would have liked to hear more salacious anecdotes about all the Hollywood people, politicians and titans of industry who hung out at the place, though.
Here are some photos.

We do have to get a move on, however. There is beautiful coast to explore, Santa Barbara and its vineyards to visit, and friends waiting for us in LA.

Maybe tomorrow will be the day.

A very American Thanksgiving

2009-12-07T17:59:00.003-05:00

The day before Thanksgiving, we were in a charming café with terrible food, watching Glenn Beck, a talk show host on the Fox Network.
The episode's main premise was that the Founding Fathers of the USA had originally meant the country to be based on ‘Life, Liberty and Property,’ but that this last theme had to be changed to ‘Prosperity’ because of the slave issue.
He then went on to echo some conservatives’ view that the Constitution and other historical documents have been misinterpreted, and as such, require new study.
Beck was very concerned that the Pilgrims, whose arrival and eventual flourishing Thanksgiving commemorates, would be very upset if they had seen their ideals trampled upon by the Democrats in general and Barack Obama in particular.
America, he continued, is a country of individuals, whose allegiance is to themselves and their families, and reliance on the government for support will only weaken the nation as a whole.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tea_Party_protests

In contrast, we felt pretty good about America. Laura and I have both spent many years living outside the country, so it was nice to be back.

Thanksgiving is a flexible holiday celebrated across religions (though you don’t have to bring God into it if you don’t want to) and cultures, so everyone’s welcome to garnish their thankfulness and meals with whatever they please.

The main thing is to stop for a day, to give thanks for all the nice things in we have in our lives. With no gifts or cards.

Oh, and you get to stuff yourself as well, since it’s also a harvest holiday.

Laura brought a delicious selection of cheeses, which she garnished with dates and the crispiest crackers. We wrapped lots of food items (wild Alaskan salmon, sweet potatoes, garlic and onions, chestnuts) in tin foil, and Daniel cooked all of these to perfection in the campfire. I made wild rice and tried to emulate Olivia’s amazing Brussels sprouts, which are cut into strips and sautéed with loads of garlic and seasoning.

We drank wine, tore off Kalamata olive bread, and all was well. Once it was dark, and we were roasting marshmallows, Laura looked at her watch and was shocked to see it was only 6:15.

That’s the thing when you’re camping in winter – it gets dark suddenly and you think it’s bedtime, but it’s always way earlier.

Once we had retired back inside the Airstream, Laura suggested we revive the American custom of going around the table and saying why we’re all thankful.

I started, saying I was thankful for this year off, an amazing opportunity to spend serious time with my wonderful husband and beautiful daughters.

Laura said thanks for the chance to study again (she’s pursuing a Masters in Spiritual Psychology and an eventual Doctorate in Relationship Counseling.

Sophia said thanks for the marshmallows.

Daniel declined to participate in our sappy tradition.

Lulu looked at us all, in pursuit of more food.

Our first guest

2009-12-07T17:52:00.003-05:00

Laura, a great university friend, drove up from LA with her dog Claude to spend Thanksgiving weekend with us in Santa Margarita, which is just inland from California’s Central Coast and just north of San Luis Obispo.

This was our first time hosting a guest, so we were excited.

We cleaned the Airstream until it was spick and span, and most importantly, found a campground that would accommodate a tent, a dog and an extra vehicle on our site.

It worked really well, Laura and Claude staying in a tent a few feet from the trailer and all of us having meals and activities together.

Sophia and Claude became bosom buddies, and Laura helped entertain both girls.
We went on hikes, visited a wine tasting room and all caught up.

Their visit also served a practical purpose, since Daniel’s mom Barbara will be joining us for 3 weeks or so in January and February. We still haven’t figured out the sleeping arrangements – the weather is much colder than we had anticipated, and our tent too difficult to assemble day in, day out if we make a lot of stops.

So one night, we tried out an alternative sleeping plan. Laura, Claude and Sophia slept in the Airstream, while Daniel, Lulu and I slept on an inflatable mattress in the back of our car (the backseat folds down).

That turned out not to be a viable solution, so it’s back to the drawing board.

Big Sur

2009-12-07T17:36:00.001-05:00

Big Sur, the hump protruding from California after Monterey Bay, is amazing. It’s basically a wilderness area sitting on top of prime real estate along the Pacific, with a surprisingly low population and shockingly high cliffs.

Sadly, the perfect clear and water is too dangerous to swim in (let alone reach), so visitors must satisfy themselves with azure fantasies.

We had hoped to spend Thanksgiving at Big Sur, but so did lots of other people so all the good places were booked up.

Having attempted to stay at one campground, which can only accept reservations ten days in advance owing to a precarious entry bridge over the sometimes swollen Big Sur River, we had to go.
The staff was friendly, but the place was a Big Disappointment. Sitting in a dark forest with no means of disposing of sewage or water, the campground felt a million miles away from the startling beauty of the Redwoods and coast.

So further south we went, on towards San Luis Obispo and the Central Coast.

Advent

2009-12-01T20:46:00.003-05:00

We can’t believe it’s December. Not only is my monthly Sagittarius horoscope ready for viewing online, but it’s almost Christmas!

Not that you can really tell here, just inland from California’s Central Coast. It freezes at night (we found ice on our picnic table this morning), but during the day it can get really warm. Yesterday in Atascadero, we actually needed an ice-cold horchata.

Today, Sophia cracked open her (first of two) Advent calendar, and by the time she opens window 18, she’ll be four.

Later this month, we will be cheating on our road trip: flying to New York for two weeks over Christmas, and joining my family for the holidays.

We can’t wait.

My friends Soo-Hyun and Joseph have graciously agreed to keep the Airstream in their driveway and be guest camping bloggers in our absence, starting in two weeks’ time.

A new way of swearing

2009-12-01T20:46:00.001-05:00

Swearing is satisfying. If something goes wrong, or you hit yourself in the head (something that happens quite often in a seventeen foot trailer), it feels so good to shout – or at least utter – a swear word.

Until you hear your almost four-year old repeat said word (or words).

So Daniel and I are working on new ways to swear, since silence just isn’t an option.

“Darn it!”, “Oh F”, “Shoot”, I say, while Daniel experiments with the rather hilarious “Golly gosh”, “Oh fiddlysticks” or “blimey”.

Now Sophia’s learned those ones, hopefully having deleted the others. Sometimes, when it’s just Lulu around, we allow ourselves the real thing. It feels great.

Vacation from the vacation

2009-12-01T20:42:00.003-05:00

We’ve now spent more on repairs to our car than the $5000 we spent on the vehicle itself.
This is despite having spoiling the darn thing, replacing all manner of oils, plus windshield wipers, brake pads and rotors, tightening up the steering (“removing the play”, Daniel says that's called), new drums.
And now we’re replacing the fuel pump for a second time.
There’s more, but we can’t remember the details right now.

Right now, the car is at Mike Howe’s Automotive in the neighboring town of Atascadero. We have a courtesy car, a white Toyota Camry – the same exact one my
friend Katie Gleason’s family had in high school, automatic seatbelts and all.

Daniel had to sign something saying he was insured to drive it, which may or may not be the case.

So we’re extending our stay at the KOA campground at Lake Santa Margarita, which is a quiet, rural place nestled among sudden, rounded hills covered with that soft, native Californian grass.

Our site has plenty of space, and actually, we have the run of most of the campground since aside from a few Montana snowbirds, we are the only residents.

As soon as the Thanksgiving crowds dispersed, all manner of birds – from hummingbirds to sparrows to hawks – took back their rightful land.

When it gets dark, we hear a yelping of unknown provenance, the screams of coyotes, the hiss of something that might be a raccoon or bobcat, an unknown yelping and a mysterious thumping, galloping sound.

By day, we’re having a whale of a time entertaining ourselves. I’m working on the blog and reading (Vanity Fair from a month or two ago and ‘America and Americans’ by John Steinbeck; Daniel’s doing sketches and watercolors; Sophia’s working on painting and song performances (delivered from a giant tree stump); and Lulu is getting very close to crawling – she managed to move herself about two feet the other day.

This may sound surprising, but it’s only the second time we’ve had time to stop and relax since we started out in the Airstream in Iowa. We are on an extended holiday, yes, but being on the move all the time is exhausting.

This break is great, and perfectly timed since we have nowhere to be until the morning of December 15. We’ve been here nearly a week, long enough for the staff here to give us a night free of charge (thanks, KOA!).

We’ll send photos once we retrieve the camera charger from our (hopefully repaired for good) car.

Jam tasting and merry-go-rounds

2009-12-01T20:35:00.004-05:00

After eschewing yet another RV Park(ing lot) – this one just outside San Francisco in Pacifica, costing $51 for a spot next to the highway with a hook-up we couldn’t reach - we decided to flee an overcast sky and head south.

Passing countless state parks, dramatic winding turns and beaches populated by surfers, we didn’t stop…until we saw signs for Jam Tasting. How can anyone skip Jam Tasting?

This one (are there others?) was at a café at the all-organic Swanton Berry Farm that served up strawberry shortcake, berry compotes, whole pies, cauliflower soup and coffee – all customers had to do was take what they wanted and leave payment in a box.

Only in California.

So we took refuge from the ocean wind, jam tasting and enjoying a sweet snack, together with surfers, families and couples.

http://www.swantonberryfarm.com/

Our next stop was Santa Cruz, a delightful, offbeat university town down the coast from San Francisco and on the northernmost side of Monterey Bay. I had visited on two previous trips to San Francisco – once to visit my high school friends Justin and Ben, who were students at the University of California Santa Cruz, and once to go to the amusement park with my friend Laura and her friend Aaron.
So we took Sophia to the amusement park, which is right on the boardwalk overlooking the Pacific. She rode the ancient merry-go-round twice before venturing onto other kiddy rides in a helicopter and racecar. She screamed with glee, and so did we.
Sad to go, we sought solace in the pastel pink-and-blue sunset punctuated by tall palms.

View from a hill

2009-12-01T20:22:00.002-05:00

Olivia and her Canadian husband David, together with their nine-year old Alfie and three-year old William are in San Francisco for a year or so while David works on a movie project for DreamWorks. Olivia’s on sabbatical from the same company, looking after the kids and working on a screenplay about a LA, a woman and trees…it sounds really cool.

Very kindly, they offered to put us up for a weekend at their amazing house in Bernal Heights, on the side of a massive hill just above The Mission neighborhood and overlooking the whole of San Francisco. So even staying inside – watching the monolith-like fog overtake the metropolis or the reflection of the sunset on glass skyscrapers built to outlast earthquakes - you are really doing the city.

Snug on this vantage point, we enjoyed three days and nights of really delicious food, quite a few bottles of wine, lots of catching up and the sound of three-year olds mostly playing very nicely together. Alfie, for his part, sat with the grown-ups and was a delight. At night, we got to sleep in real beds(!) in a house(!), which was beyond wonderful.

We ventured from the house a few times: twice to the bottom of the hill into the Mission, and once up the hill to a park at the summit and then over the other side to Bernal Heights.

San Francisco is a beautiful city, full of fine food from all nations, overflowing with sophisticated people and plenty of arts, music and culture. Sitting between the Pacific and the Bay, and further beautified with all species of warm weather trees and flowers, the city forms an odd microclimate with a temperature that only varies by about twenty degrees year round. So it is neither hot nor cold, just something in between.

The Mission is a great melting pot of a place, serving as a point of landing for the city’s many immigrants. Full of lively restaurants serving ultra fresh food from all of Latin America and beyond, the neighborhood also has lots of small galleries, excellent bookshops and cool clothing boutiques.

Daniel totally wants to move to San Francisco.

A less than graceful entrance

2009-12-01T20:17:00.002-05:00

San Francisco and trailers don’t really go together. After a spectacular entrance into the city, across the majestic Golden Gate Bridge from Marin County and up the main (mostly flat) drag of Van Ness, things got dramatic.

For anyone who’s never been to San Francisco, those hills are serious. We’re talking gradients of 15% and cars that have to park pointed out onto the street to stop them from sliding down.

Our own ascents and descents were accompanied by the sounds of tha-dumps (the trailer), violent churnings and squeaks (the hitch) and general clatter (our belongings inside the trailer).

Daniel looked increasingly worried.

Luckily, having already crossed the Rockies, we knew how the car’s gears worked.

That didn’t stop the general public from rushing onto the street to watch us drag the Airstream up Bernal Hill and then partly back down it at what looked like a near-vertical angle, as we approached the home of my friend Olivia Mole.

Londoner Olivia spent a summer in Pelham, New York, living with the Rowlands (who seem to directly or indirectly have introduced us to much of northern California) when we were both 18. We met again in London, once I had moved there, and then she relocated to LA to take advantage of a green card she had won and pursue a career in animation.

At the crest of the rollercoaster-like hill, Daniel suggested I run to the bottom to photograph the truck and trailer’s descent – for your enjoyment, dear reader.

Having done this and hugged Olivia, who had been watching the spectacle of our arrival out various windows of her house, I turned around to see the Airstream caught in a tree – and hear the scratching of twigs and gnawing of large branches against its lovingly mirror polished surface.

Face fallen, Daniel couldn’t go forward or back. We all looked up to the sky for divine intervention. Amazingly, it arrived immediately, in the form of a saw wielding lady named Jill.

“The people who live in front of this tree and the one over there are renters, I do this all the time,” she said, casually.
“The city collects garden refuse once a week”, she added, indicating towards the green bin she had thoughtfully wheeled with her.

And she started sawing. Once she had gotten the most offensive large branches down, she handed over the saw to Daniel, who worked on the medium sized ones. Then Olivia and I finished off the smallest ones, to facilitate Daniel’s painful reversal up the giant hill.

After a meticulous parking job and unhitching, we all giggled nervously and kind of decided to pretend nothing had happened.

Sorry, San Francisco.

Napa Valley

2009-12-01T19:47:00.004-05:00

Having stayed four days in Sonoma County, one of California’s most famous wine countries, we naturally had to check out Napa Valley, surely the state’s premier vineyard region.

Arriving in Calistoga, we checked into the Napa Valley Fairgrounds RV park, which at $40 a night was rather reasonable for an upmarket, spa-centric area. Most, if not all counties in California seem to have fairgrounds that host agricultural and commercial events, and these usually have an adjoining RV park offering basic bathrooms and showers, water and electric hook-up and WiFi (which may or may

We escaped our parking lot home in minutes, anxious to start the trek down the Silverado Trail. This route and the larger Highway 29 to the west are the main arteries of the narrow valley, which is home to hundreds of wineries.

Traveling off-season, we were among very few fellow tourists, but boy are those locals feisty! If you don’t drive fast – at least 60 miles an hour – they get mad: tailgating, honking and shaking their fists if you fail to keep up the pace. It is really hard to read those tiny winery signs at 60, and pulling a trailer down an unfamiliar, smallish, curving road at that speed is probably not recommended either.

But living among tipsy tourists must understandably get annoying, and they probably want the place to themselves for the winter.

We were, though, treated to an extremely tasteful display of autumn colors, as row upon row of vines neared harvest. This maturity, set against the bluest sky and two ranges of small mountains, was very calming indeed.

Wine tasting probably isn’t the best activity for young kids, so during our three-day stay we sampled just two wineries.

At one end of the spectrum was Casa Nuestra, a very rustic feeling place that encouraged picnicking, didn’t mind Sophia running around with the vineyard dog, Trigger and played NPR’s ‘All Things Considered’ in the background. Coinciding with us was a giddy foursome from Cleveland that extolled the place’s simplicity (and comparatively lower prices). Chattily, they wanted to know everything about us and when they left, we all got hearty hugs and well wishes.

From my last visit, about ten years ago, I didn’t remember Napa Valley being so stingy. Now, visitors are generally charged $10 for a tasting, which consists of six or so of the teeniest sips of reds and whites. This charge is deducted against any purchases, presumably discouraging visitors from running rampant free of charge through the valley.

Daniel and I shared a tasting, just in case we didn’t want to buy a bottle. Perhaps sensing our lack of commitment, our server - who was very nice and then later very helpful with things to do in the area – gave us ever smaller droplets to divide between us.
Or was that our imagination?

http://www.casanuestra.com/

The second place we visited, Paraduxx, came highly recommended by our friends The Rowlands, who we visited at Chico, in northern California. Managed by Perrin’s close friend Jenny K, the lady herself gave us a personal, knowledgeable and unrushed tasting, even taking time to coo over Lulu and chat with Sophia, who sang loud songs next to hushed lunchtime tasters.

“It’s so Ibiza”, Daniel noted. Owing to the warm autumn day, we and the other visitors had been shown to the winery’s back garden, which features endless vine views, comfy bamboo furniture and even chill-out music. Inside, the furniture is very modern – stainless steel and black leather.

Another highlight was the generous portions, accompanied by yummy cheese and crackers to help us distinguish the different wine flavors.

Despite its relative youth, Paraduxx, a label belonging to the larger Duckhorn group, seems to have been a favorite of George W Bush’s White House, having been served three times at state dinners.

http://www.duckhorn.com/duckhorndnn/Paraduxx/tabid/56/Default.aspx/

Thanks, Jenny!

In a few days, we'll be posting Daniel's watercolor from Napa on this entry, so please check back in to see it!

People like us

2009-12-01T19:36:00.003-05:00

At last, we have met people like us: a couple with a young child and a baby, traveling cross-country and off-season in a recreational vehicle.

Having relocated from France to Montreal several years ago for a job opportunity, Virginie and Arnaud, with their eight month old son Baptiste and almost two year old daughter Olivia, the time seemed right to take advantage of a second parental leave to cross Canada and return to Quebec via the USA.

They bought an old Dodge Ram for about 4500 Canadian dollars and had reached Bodega Bay on the Sonoma coast, where we overlapped for a night. After San Francisco, they planned to head east towards Las Vegas, with a view to returning to Montreal by January.

They came over for a drink, bringing with them some rather delicious smoked salmon acquired further north.

We compared notes, and seemed to have traveled an almost identical route down from Vancouver. They said they had even seen us a few days earlier, at a vantage point for elk viewing.

The kids all played merrily, Sophia and Olivia bonding over some building blocks my aunt Gretchen had given us, and Lulu and Baptiste removing toys from each other’s grasps.

Sadly, we bid our new friends adieu the next morning.

Long-lost cousin

2009-11-24T19:47:00.004-05:00

It's not a widely known fact that Daniel is one-quarter American. It's not something he mentions freely.

His mom, Barbara, was born to an American mother and British father, dividing her childhood between the two countries. Strangely enough, she spent her high school years in Bronxville, New York, about ten minutes from Pelham, where I grew up.

So that means she has relatives in the US. One, Sandra Chelnov, has been in touch to say she's following the blog and that we should visit her if we ever find ourselves in Buffalo.

Another, Connie Bruce, is living just north of San Francisco in Mill Valley. Daniel's aunt Janet gave us her contact details just as we were driving down from Napa Valley to San Francisco - impeccable timing.

Connie told us stories of her youth, Barbara as a baby (Barbara's mother was her favorite aunt), the legend of a couple many generations ago who traveled to Syria as missionaries, also filling us in on her own adult life and family.

Interestingly, most people in the family have a strong connection to art and artists.

She showed us all around her apartment complex, introduced us to her cat Buttercup and then treated us to a yummy lunch in Sausalito.

Hopefully, Barbara and Connie will be able to reunite when Barbara joins us in the US at the beginning of the year.

Camping, camping in the street

2009-11-24T19:29:00.004-05:00

Over the summer, my childhood friend Dave McRobie found me on Facebook. Once we connected, he said to look him up if we were ever in northern California.

Which of course we would be.

Dave lives with his wife Jaime and their two-year old twins Hazel and Avery in Sebastopol, which is in Sonoma County, 56 miles north of San Francisco. Both East Coast transplants, Dave and Jaime have no plans of ever going back.

The only complaint, registered by Dave, is that the weather is TOO good. "This is going to sound weird," he confided in us, "but having sun every day of the year can be a bit much". We felt really bad for him.

Extremely generously, they said we were welcome to park up outside their house on Sunset Avenue (How cool is that to live on Sunset Avenue!) underneath a redwood tree. So we did.

It was great. We hung out in their house with them and then retired to the Airstream at bedtime. Neighbors stopped by at all hours to say how much they liked our rig (everyone in California seems to call trailers 'rigs') and have a look inside. A couple asked how much we had paid, most said it had always been their dream to own an Airstream.

It turns out that sleeping in a trailer on the street is illegal. A policeman stopped to tell us so one morning. "Great rig," he said. "I won't tell anyone you're here, but one of the guys could stop you, and if it's overnight you'd have to get out. Just wanted to warn you." He paused to have a look inside. "Wow, how much did you pay for that?".

Luckily, no one kicked us out.

Sebastopol is great. Ten miles from the coast, close to all sorts of agriculture and wine country, it's ideally located. Everything is organic, and everyone is green. It seems like the perfect place to raise kids, and it's not pretentious. It's hard not to be healthy there.

Hitchhikee's guide

2009-11-24T19:02:00.002-05:00

Oregon and northern California are filled with hitchhikers. Young ones and old, some with dreadlocks and some without, with luggage running from backpacks to suitcases to (seriously!) a pack tied onto a stick. Everyone seems to do it, along local roads and highways, in the city and out in the middle of nowhere.

Occasionally, a half-hearted sign warns drivers not to pick them up.

After seeing such spectacles for several hundred miles, we had to get in on the action.

Right on the outskirts of beautiful, slightly hippy-dippy Mendocino, California (dubbed Spendocino, apparently, so we tried not to stay too long), we saw the perfect hitchhiker for us.

"Stop, Daniel, it's a pregnant girl with a cat!!", I shouted, waking up Lulu.

"Oh my God, we've got to pick her up!", he responded, looking vainly for an appropriate turnaround.

We drove all the way back into the town, before performing a rather elaborate U-turn.

A hundred yards before we could collect her, a small red car covered in left-wing bumper stickers cut us off, scooping up the girl and her cat before she could even see us.

Spirits broken, we were now determined to have a Hitchhiker Experience ("Claire is brutal, she only wanted it for the blog", Daniel would later tell a friend).

So we picked up the next guy. Dreadlocked, bearded and patchouli scented, he was a pretty good bet.

I moved to the back seat between the girls, so he could sit with Daniel up front.

We grilled him.

He told us of his upbringing near Sacramento, his travels around Hawaii, Central America and Asia and of the party he had been to the night before to celebrate the 40th anniversary of a hippy commune. "All talk and no action", he said of the hippies.

Eight miles later, he said we had reached his drop-off point.

The End.

Beachfront property

2009-11-24T18:56:00.003-05:00

At Westport, California, we paid our record campground fee: $48. Considering the lack of Wi-Fi, showers timed to last four minutes and the fact that there's no valet service, that's pretty steep (but not as steep as the entrance down into the park!). The most we had ever paid before was $31.

Complaining aside, there was one major plus: the campground is right on the beach, right on it. We spent the night listening to the mighty Pacific crash up against the shore.

And then the next morning, which was gloriously sunny, we spilled out of the trailer and joined another family in walking down the perfectly formed beach, selecting shells and fishing.

Princesses unite!

2009-11-24T18:33:00.004-05:00

Slow off the mark in leaving the majestic redwoods of Jedediah Smith, we had to stop earlier than expected - in Trinidad, California, instead of further south.

As winter sets in, night falls in minutes. This is no good when you've got a trailer, as it becomes much harder to read signs, navigate steep gradients and dirt roads, or make judgements on how suitable/scary a campground is.

Frightened off by the completely empty Patricks Point State Park (which cost $35 with no hook-ups...which is standard for California state parks), we opted for the first private place, Azalea Glen RV Park and Campground.

And boy, did it work out. As soon as we arrived, we met up with a very well traveled lady, Danika, and her super daughters, Freya and Solveig, ages 7 and almost 4. Within minutes, Sophia had run off with them to their trailer. She ended up staying for a snack, game of dress-up (princesses, of course), TV and dinner.

Daniel and I hoped she wouldn't mind coming back to our family later on.

Come back she did, together with her new friends. Bringing a bottle of wine, they stayed for drinks and more dress-up.

We were so sad to leave. They gave Sophia a souvenir of an awesome necklace made of huge purple beads. Sophia had so much fun she gave them a pair of her beloved princess shoes.

Redwood Forest

2009-11-24T18:14:00.005-05:00

Northern California greeted us with two days of torrential rain, forcing us to spend one afternoon trawling around Crescent City for things to do. So we petted sharks, held starfish, watched a sea lion perform tricks and sucked on sea anemone (well, another lady did do that) at the charming but rather kitschy Ocean World. And then attempted to see 'Where the Wild Things Are' - we had to leave and ask for a refund since they left the lights on DURING the movie.

Finally, we got to see the Redwoods, at Jedediah Smith Redwood State Park. To say these trees are giant is no understatement, since they regularly measure over 300 feet tall and 20 feet around.

The sun burnt through the heavy mist, allowing the very occasional beam of light to reach the forest floor. We all craned our necks out the window to catch a glimpse of the treetops and smell the fresh, wet scent of the forest, as the car bumped along the park's dirt road. Taking photos of the redwoods is really difficult - one, because getting the whole tree into the frame is a major challenge, and two, because without a car or person in the photo, there's no perspective.

Here are our attempts.

California Complaint Commission

2009-11-24T17:30:00.004-05:00

To whom it may concern:
We are a family of four traveling for six months across America in an Airstream trailer. We had been anxiously awaiting our arrival to the California coast, but have found the camping facilities to be sub-par, and very expensive.

The cheapest camping we've found was outside the fence of a trailer park in Santa Cruz - the park itself was full, but the owner offered us an ad hoc spot outside the fence, together with an extension cord, for $25.
That's about the most we had paid for any camping before reaching California.
The bathroom looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a month, but the WiFi did work.

Which is an improvement upon the WiFi access advertised by many campgrounds we've encountered. "Oh, the signal must not reach your site." "Oh, our WiFi is really low-tech". "Oh, most people just sit outside the office to get a signal [in the cold, dark night, sitting on the ground?]".

Here, people want a lot of money - we're talking $40 at the minimum - to stay in parking lots with nary a tree, inches from other RVs. In some of these, RVers are expected to have extra-long sewer pipes, electrical cords, water hoses, etc, since to save money, the amenities are located on the wrong side for trailers.

In one place, we had to ask neighboring campers to plug us into their rig, since our standard issue cord couldn't reach our own slot's outlet.

Children are not allowed to ride bikes in these parking lots -- something about more expensive insurance policies, apparently.

Bathrooms have been grotty as a rule, with some places (costing $45, $48) even demanding that guests PAY for showers (only 25 cents or a dollar, but still!).

And what are we supposed to do with dirty water at campgrounds that have neither sewers nor dump stations, where washing dishes is banned in bathrooms and no separate sinks are provided? Are guests supposed to pollute the rivers?

We understand that the California economy, something like the world's eighth largest, is teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, but these examples were all private campgrounds.

We wish that coastal campgrounds could follow the lead of the best campground we've seen so far on our trip - one located inland, below Mount Shasta in northern California. Mountain Gate RV Park had the cleanest, most sparkling bathrooms, a welcoming staff that practically broke out into song, a playground, its own trails, a rec room stuffed with TV, sofa, movies and games...AND...get this, a complimentary continental breakfast (coffee, pastries, toast, cereal, juice, etc).
Not to mention special events like pumpkin carving for Halloween and a Thanksgiving dinner.

And guess what? Guests are so blown away by the thoughtfulness of the owners that they do their very best to treat the campground as if it were their own home.

All for under $30.

http://www.mt-gatervpark.com/

Complaints off our chests, we must congratulate you on having the most breathtaking coastline we've ever seen, offering hundreds of miles of eyepoppingly beautiful beaches, towering redwoods, dramatic craggy rockiness, mountains surely carved by God himself and the most azure water anyone could hope for. Thanks also for maintaining Highway 1, that road is nuts!

Kind regards,
Claire, Daniel, Sophia and Lulu

Call for Thanksgiving recipes!

2009-11-24T12:15:00.003-05:00

Hi, and sorry we've been out of touch for a while. California's too amazing to look at, and too skimpy on Wi-Fi, so we're way behind.

We promise to have a number of posts - and pictures by Daniel - up in the next couple of days.

For now, though, we're looking for Thanksgiving recipes. Thursday's the day, and our friend Laura will be joining us with her dog Claude for a couple of days.

Here are the parameters: all recipes need to be non-meat and prepared on the stovetop, since our oven doesn't work.

All ideas appreciated!

Lulu's half-birthday

2009-11-09T02:47:00.004-05:00

Lulu is now six months old.
So we had to have a party.
As soon as we arrived at the KOA in Crescent City, California, we all dressed for dinner: Sophia in her favorite dress (a gift from Cesar), Lulu in a dress given to her by Shelly, Daniel in his black velvet dinner jacket and me in my orange sequin-stripe tunic. And all of us adorned with jewelry and hairclips.
Accompanied by BBC Radio 2 on the computer, we sang and danced, ate penne with broccoli, parmesan and pinenuts, salad with avocado, tomato, albacore tuna, sweet onion and butterbeans, and drank delicious California syrah (lemonade for Sophia).
Lulu had stage 2 organic summer vegetable babyfood from Safeway.
It was fun.

Manifest Destiny

2009-11-09T02:18:00.005-05:00

Well, we've finally made it to the Pacific. Despite having arrived on the West Coast some three weeks ago, we hadn't seen the sea.
Our first glimpse came at Florence, Oregon.
Long overshadowed by its neighbor to the south, Oregonians are understated people who are quietly proud of where they live.
That way, the state's citizens - who we were told number fewer than the inhabitants of Brooklyn - get the whole place to themselves.
We drove the length of the state twice - one and a half times on Interstate 5, and then the final half down US Highway 101 along the coast.
The latter is by far the superior option, allowing drivers to gasp at the spectacular seashore.
And at the adjoining sparkling freshwater lakes, towering primordial forests, Sahara like dunes and rivers teaming with life.
Plus, the food and drink are fantastic! Nice cheddar (yey, finally!), good microbrews, amazing coffee, plentiful seafood and tons of orchard fruit.
We loved it, despite the daily - and nightly - torrential downpours. We would have stayed, but we were worried about ourselves and the Airstream becoming waterlogged.
We all need more Gore-tex.

Beauty parlor, for men

2009-11-09T01:44:00.004-05:00

Our car is moody, and that's at the best of times. Its favorite trick is not to start when you turn the ignition. But now we know that you have to try three or four times, sometimes hitting the accelerator instead of the brake to get things going. We think it objects to wet weather and also nighttime, maybe.

That said, it's gotten us across the country and up and down half of the West Coast.

We get it looked at every couple of thousand miles, to check that everything's working all right and to see whether anyone can figure out the ignition thing.

No one can.

Not even Oil Can Henry's, the best car-fixing place ever.

An Oregon-based business, Oil Can Henry's is staffed by men in bow ties who look like butlers and call you 'sir'. All that's missing is a fake British accent.

We had no idea.

When we pulled up to the company's Florence, Oregon branch, a rather rotund butler greeted us, handing us a newspaper ("for your enjoyment, sir") and a menu of treatments, including some combo deals.

"It's like a nail salon, for men!", exclaimed Daniel.

When it was our turn, we pulled into an immaculate garage and parked next to a video screen split in four showing a commercial for Oil Can Henry's (there seems to be a company academy, where butlers take classes and then graduate, all standing in a row!), the company logo, the chief butler next to our car and the junior butler working underneath our car - from a sort of basement level.

I read the paper, while Daniel looked over the menu, helpfully guided by our businesslike butler. They went through the list of oils - from basic to premium - performed tests on various fluids, the results of which were reflected in color marks indicating how badly they needed replacements, opened up everything that can be opened up on cars and tested the lights. We were offered two kinds of new windscreen wipers.

Meanwhile, the butlers sang observations and orders to each other, all communicating from their different levels, behind and in front of the car, and next to computers.

I asked Daniel if he thought they would break into a chorus and dance when it came time for us to leave. "Oh no, it's too masculine for that", he responded.

It was a dizzying experience. We all felt more beautiful afterwards.

We spent $240. We are kicking ourselves for not taking a photo. Because then it would have been 100% worth it. Even though the car's still not starting that well.