[Rewind.. then] July 7th: Encinitas. "Do YOU know any Midwest stereotypes?"

Before I get into Encinitas, let's rewind to July 4th. I cannot believe (well, actually I suppose I can) that I forgot to blog about the drive from Arizona to California. That was the most memorable trip of the entire 4.5 month adventure!

Driving. Through Arizona. To California! We're listening to our California mix! It's a good mix! We're excited! It's Hot. Very Hot. We have recently (see: New Mexico) discovered our trusty Scuttlebuss does NOT like running air conditioning when the temperature gets to three digits. We have the windows down. Not so bad at first. Through the passenger window I get my first and only viewing of the Saguaro cactus. As we go further through the desert of AZ, the temp rises and rises and reaches impressive heights.

The windows down is like opening the oven and getting a rush of the air right in the face at about 65 mph.
It's getting bad. Real bad. We stop for gas. I felt not in my right mind. I find a cell phone in the bathroom, return it to an ungrateful employee and buy myself a Gatorade. Once back in the vehicle I figure it's time to find something we can call an "outfit" that contains the least amount of clothing you can be seen from a car window in. I find a bikini top and shorts and sweat out my misery in the passenger seat. We continue on our way.

We have heard you have to get up a giant mountain to get into San Diego... it's aptly called something to do with Hell or the Devil. It's not a fun mountain. In fact, even before we climb this giant desert mountain in our Scuttlebuss in something around 110 degrees... the surroundings are becoming the ugliest we'll see on our journey. This mountain seems made up of black boulders and brown weeds... its is not charming. It is a slow, hot climb. There are daunting signs everywhere stating "Don't Overheat! Turn off your AC!" These would have been helpful back in Texas and New Mexico. There are also "Radiator Refill Stations" every few miles, and we pass at least 5 overheated vehicles on the side of the road. We keep our AC off, and experience extreme adventurous discomfort. That was LIVIN'. Though it felt like dyin'. Interesting how closely linked the two are, eh?

On this drive we pass near the border with Mexicali. We come upon a police line, cars and officers, dogs and tents on both sides of the highway. An officer approaches our vehicle, we are first in line to stop as they put down spikes. The officer says to Driver KG:
"Hi. We're just putting down tire spikes. It'll just take a few minutes. Where you headed?"
KG: "San Diego."
Officer: "Not planning on stopping by Mexico, are ya?"
KG: "No. Well. I don't know. Maybe. We were thinking of seeing Tijuana. You know. Just walking over and checking it out for a little while."
Officer: "I would not do that if I were you. Things over there are getting worse and worse. New drug cartel taking over from the last one, all kinds of activity right now. A woman just was in Tijuana the other day and walked back across the border.... an officer saw tape coming out from under her shirt, they end up having her take it off and she'd been cut open. They sliced the front of her up and put drugs inside, stitched her up with duct tape and made her walk across promising not to say a word or they'd kill her."
KG: "Oh. ...That doesn't sound good."
Officer: "No. One of my co workers got killed down there. I wouldn't go."
KG: "Maybe we won't go."
Officer: "Welp, looks like the spikes are down! Have a good day!"

And through all of this I am uncomfortably sweaty in a bikini. I didn't expect an interview with an officer, and everything about it was gross.

We made it up the mountain, but I lost sanity and joy for at least a little bit. THAT'S why San Diego started off slow and grouchy. Anyhow, it ended up being a nice stop... and the insane scientific weather juxtaposition of driving up that Satanic mountain in 110 degree heat and being spat out (after the most rotten rest stop between the highways in the middle of the dunes.. you come out of that stop fully running and heaving.. then some blah California desert..)  in 72 degree San Diego was mind blowing. It was a refreshing introduction to coastal California... the place of remarkably temperate weather AND.... NO MESQUITOES.

Now, we have left San Diego. It is July 6th. We are in Encinitas, parked on a hill near the ocean... walking down the hill and into the cafe where our Scuttlebuggs "gig" is located.

[There is a locally famed mural outside the cafe, which is where we were to perform. Here is info on it: http://www.theblaze.com/stories/2011/06/08/is-mosaic-of-surfing-virgin-mary-art-or-graffiti/ .
 People needed us to move (during our performance) when they came by just to take its picture.]



The woman who I spoke to on the phone, who knows the musician that got us booked, would not be in attendance. The guy and gal behind the counter were of the annoyed and uninterested variety. Turns out the equipment is not complete. Missing cords, yadda yadda. We can share one mic and just play the guitar into the open air on the patio outside the cafe. Well, alright. While we were inside getting our payment of a latte (complimentary eye roll and sigh on the side) we noticed an older (though very fit, that's the SoCal way) man in line behind us wearing a Cambodia shirt. Much as it happened when I was wearing a Cambodia shirt at the Grand Canyon, a conversation of shared experience was struck up. He was a very nice fellow and asked us if we were the advertised performers (sidewalk chalkboard displaying "The Scuttlebugs", the incorrect and often used attempt at our silly name... which KG coined and despises by the way). We replied that we were.
He: "That's great! I'd really love to stay and watch you guys. I am a bit involved in the music world... my son has found some success with it. I'm sure you haven't heard of them, but he's in a band called Switchfoot."
We: "Oh! Yes, actually. We have heard of them! We hope you enjoy the set."
He: "Ah... I would love to stay, but I actually need to get to the water to surf. This is the only time of day I can fit it in. Best of luck to you!"
So. Of the five people at the cafe that day, one was the father (and he may have even said manager) of a famous musician... and he didn't get to hear and fall in love with any of our songs. Because he had to go surf.
SoCal!

We're supposed to play around 2 hours. So we do. To one table. Sometimes two. Sometimes even three. Briefly three. The musician we were in contact with but had never met stopped by. Families and couples came and went, usually regarding us as background. When people approached with a camera the confused awkward flattery quickly turned to understanding they wanted us to move from in front of the Mary mosaic.

Also, the patio was right on the main road thoroughfare, and the vehicles all but drowned out our tender harmonies. Honking semis even, at times. Sing on.

When we had a crowd of maybe around 6, we told the story of meeting a couple from San Diego at the Grand Canyon -- remember? They told us they had never heard of a Midwestern stereotype? Never heard anyone say anything about anyone from Michigan, Illinois, Ohio etc? So we told the story, gave (kind) examples of Southern Californian stereotypes and asked our "crowd": "So. Do YOU know any Midwest stereotypes?"

They scratched their respective heads and beards, looked at each other, shrugged and shook their heads. Not one person had one stereotype of us farmin' flatlanders!
I gave them some. "Well! Now you will know: people sometimes say we.... have good manners, 'Midwest Manners', they say... also that we eat fast food and don't exercise much... we farm... we eat corn... potatoes.. cheese... Oh! And I've learned a new one in my recent travels: we are not used to driving on big hills and it can be very scary for us."

Spread THAT up the West Coast! Get Em Talkin!

We informed locals of Midwestern stereotypes, got a few nice compliments after our show and even sold a CD. It wasn't worthless.

San Diego: July 4th-6th. "Getting Ants-y with Sandy"

Our plan was to watch the "biggest fireworks display" in the country for our day of independence in San Diego. Although I did read the year before had been an epic failure involving all the fireworks exploding at once, the entire event ending in about 30 seconds. I think that would have been somewhat more special to be a part of, but ah well.

We arrived and although details always fade, I remember being in terrible spirits. It took a while to shake off road weary tempers and give the city a shot. We decided we'd need food (often our lack of proper eating timetables while driving would lead to unhappy feelings... people should eat, see) before heading to the display. We wandered around the gas lamp district and eventually got in line at Subway (often our traveling companion.) This line didn't move, however. Some sort of issue the staff seemed none too excited to deal with in a speedy manner. We literally waited in line close to a half hour, watching couple after couple leave in a huff, but we never gave up. Eventually, our patience won us a sub. Except we had to pay for it.

We brought our handy comfy folding chairs and followed the crowds to the bay. The fireworks were... firework-y. As one might expect.

Although this man wandered in front of our chairs, stopped directly in front of us as the show began and became our only view obstruction, we gave him the complimentary title of Mr. America and had lots of fun with him without his knowledge.

KG sneakily mocking Mr. America

The show ended and we sat in our orange ikea chairs watching the San Diego world go by in droves. It became fascinating mayhem as an old man with a cane knocked over the flimsy orange obstruction fence from the sidewalk to the road and the masses followed his lead and cut through the parking lot. When security caught wind of the chaos, they were outraged and took to yelling at guilty mothers walking their little ones through the road. The block was re-instated and the naughty fun the mischievous old man kicked off was over.

We thought we'd find somewhere free to camp but soon learned California is on to this beautiful trickery from travelers and have made it essentially impossible, even at Walmart. We did find ONE (out of many) around 30 miles outside of San Diego that seemed kosher.
Before setting off for the evening we wandered the area - The Gas Lamp District.

Lots of drunk southern Californians on the prowl. Quite a show. Soon enough you need to shield your eyes before you vomit in the street alongside them for reasons having nothing to do with alcohol.

Upon waking in our parking lot "hotel", I noticed dozens of tiny ants crawling around... then noticed more.. and more... and we opened the back of the van to discover they were colonizing our storage trunk (I think there was honey in there... did we even ever use this honey, you ask? Doubtful). Turns out we had parked directly on a thriving little ant colony and they were into this whole "living in a van" idea. We made it look so fun. It was! They were right. But that didn't matter. They were now The Enemy. We became the crazy van people in the Walmart parking lot dumping our storage trunk and belongings onto the ground, shaking and beating various items and flinging ant bodies in various directions. We threw lots of things away and although we made a fair amount of progress, it was time for brunch and the rest of the colony would simply have to wait to be destroyed until we had some potatoes, coffee and eggs. It couldn't be helped. Or maybe we'd wait until the following day to worry about the infestation. San Diego had yet to be seen and we had to get a move on.

We researched a delicious brunch spot (as you may have learned we are wont to do) and I remember it being quite tasty. The name escapes me, but this is what it looked like:

From there we went to Balboa Park - (shhh- forget about the ants for now). It was right by the restaurant and a beautiful day. This was the best part of San Diego by far. There were beautiful gardens, a Shakespeare Globe Theater recreation, fountains, museums galore and all the architecture was quite lovely. It's where they shot Citizen Kane!

The Globe

We went to a free art museum and wandered the surrounding. Thought about getting tickets to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead at The Globe, but tickets were a bit too pricey.

We spent almost the entire day wandering Balboa (they have a giant organ we were hoping someone would play, but unfortunately there were no shows scheduled for our entire San Diego stay. Quite a bummer.)

We even hopped on the free trolley tour, which felt a bit pointless due to the fact our driver guide was a miserably unhappy woman.

We decided to check out Old Town after we were through with Balboa. It was pretty tacky but good for cheap happy hour beer. There was another show playing there that was incredibly popular and intriguing so we got ourselves on the waiting list, but to no avail. Instead we wandered the touristy paths and Kevin touched a cactus...[Sidenote: he wants me to make it perfectly clear, it was the fuzzy flowery part of a cactus, and he says it was more "petting" than "touching"... it didn't look prickly, see, it looked soft? I guess? He was infected with many tiny invisible quills] it was an ordeal for him for a good long while, to no one's surprise. We went into the tea shop the cactus lived outside of and KG saught help from the young gal's behind the counter:
"I'm from Chicago and I just touched a cactus." The gals felt bad for him whilst simultaneously marveling at how often that seems to happen to tourists. Hmm. Wash your hands and wait it out.

Although you can't tell, KG was convinced this was the Indian Hippie version of my father.

 We waited in line for the popular Mexican restaurant but the wait was about an hour. No thanks. Not for a burrito. So we researched on the robot phone and found a cheap and highly rated sushi restaurant. A GREAT decision. It was cheap and delicious. Strangely, it was Bob Marley themed. All the music and wall decor... did he love sushi? Or does sushi just love him?

When we left the restaurant, we saw an adorable orange tabby in the street. The road in front of the Sushi Diner was at a sharp curve that all the cars were taking at break neck speed. Or certainly neck breaking speed for a kittycat. K went to chase it out of the street, trying to be scary, waving his arms and attempting to "shoo" it. (I think he may have literally said "shoo".) The kitty simply walked alongside him the the sidewalk and lay on her belly, purring and asking for love. She was the best kind of cat. We pet her and she looked at us like she'd found home. Our hearts broke (maybe a little) and we discussed our options. Leave her on the busy road and continue on our way, forgetting her loving mews? Take her to an emergency vet? No Kill Shelter in the morning? What if she has a home, just no collar? We decided KG would drive the van through the neighborhood to find an inconspicuous less traffic-ed spot to sleep for the night while I followed via the sidewalk hoping kitty (let's call her Sandy Ago... very original, I know) would follow me. She did! She was the sweetest of kitties. K isn't even a kitty person. Allergic and uncomfortable, almost always. But she won him right over. I walked her to the van and invited her in, but she seemed nervous in there. So we decided to leave the window open and get in, letting her decide her own fate and involvement in our lives.

 

We lay down and soon enough heard her mew. I peered out the window and couldn't see her... looking, left, right, forward and back. Eventually I noticed a large kitty shaped shadow on the truck parked in front of us... I looked up, and there she was, on the roof of the Scuttlebuss. She was a charmer and I gave her a good head scratch before settling back in.


Soon enough she took advantage of the open window and lay in the bed with us. She purred and cuddled and was a pure joy. She came in and out throughout the night and gifted us kitty kisses and good friendship vibes. She quickly became our favorite San Diegan. We discussed bringing her with us to LA and asking my friend there if she could live with her kitty until we decided if and how we could maybe keep her. It was all quite fanciful thinking that night. As you may guess, she had vanished in the morning. She had recently been laying on our chests and purring out her love, but when we were ready to leave our illegal sleeping spot she was no where to be found. We decided we would wander the neighborhood seeking her until we felt she was not to be seen again. Our story with Sandy Ago ended that morning.

We drove to a cafe breakfast spot with delicious food and coffee drinks, still putting off our Ant Battle until we felt properly nourished and satisfied.

Then to power washing and vacuuming the ants to death. It was a long battle, but we came out on top. The amusing aspect of the self-wash experience, looking back, was KG bought too many tokens and we tried to sell them to other washers... all of whom assumed we were swindlers and looked at us as Criminal Van Folk. So, we have $5 in wasted San Diego self wash tokens somewhere. If you wanna buy em off us.

Then to Ocean Beach area. Where the real San Diegans play. First we went to Starbucks for the Van Folk's bathroom and internet, then to gaze at the water & human interaction... San Diego Beach Folk stereotypes are real, dood. Surfer's paradise, but a bit of a culture shock for pasty Midwesterners.

There was a crazy lady who talked to us for a while (an addict of some sort with a cute dog. Hopefully she doesn't eat him later. She crazy.) Then we popped into a couple of happy hour deals, after which I indulged KG's request to share the advertised Frito sub at subway... which I STRONGLY regretted.

We closed out our San Diego experience wandering the streets and stopping in to a ska band show to witness a bit of the local night life. We awoke to one of the few San Diego rainy days in our comfortable illegal street sleeping spot and continued on - to La Jolla. Where the rich folks play:

 

Yummy Yuppie Cafe. That's not what it's called.

 

 

Yes. These are backyard ocean-side horse statues.

 These people are not like us, Naaimeen?
While we were at the Yummy Yuppie Cafe we got a confirmation call about a gig at a cafe in Encinitas later that afternoon. So off we went. To Encinitas. To play a gig. That will be a much shorter blog.

Onward.