The Battle of Relxation in Mexico

So it came to be that I am in Mexico. I will spare you the details as to why, other than we are here to meet up with my husband's birth mother (whom he reunited with five months ago), her husband, her various cousins and their spouses. We are were assured that it would be a relaxed vacation with no strings attached to how much or how little time we wished to spend with them, since most of the group come here every year to get away, relax, read and nap.

Most of my life I imagined Mexico as a vacation place for college kids on spring break and unadventurous adults who wished to travel to all-inclusive resorts where they could over-indulge in food, drink, sun and laziness. That was until I heard of Oaxaca, a place of culture and beauty, which calls to me strongly and tempts my curiosity, like an adventure. But we are not in Oaxaca, we are in Puerto Vallarta, and I am sitting on a bugenvilia fringed balcony overlooking palm trees and sand along the Banderias Bay with the mountains spilling out buildings of central Puerto Vallarta all the way down to the water. 

This is my first time to Mexico, unless you count the couple of hours I spent in Juarez (after walking across the border from El Paso), which is not a place I recommend, especially considering all the kidnappings and murders you hear about on the news that occur in this hotbed of Mexican crime. Which brings me to another thought, I was a little nervous about traveling to Mexico right now, especially since the U.S. State Department issued a new warning to halt all non-essential travel to Mexico a few days before our departure, it turns out Puerto Vallarta is still okay.

The plane ride seemed really long and I finished the first book I brought with me, The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. I decided that it is an extremely awkward choice of a book to start a vacation, if you are like me. If you don't know what the book is about, here is a short synopsis - an American born Chinese woman is determined to bring up her daughters in America the Chinese way, which means they are required to be the top student in school, study Mandarin, do manual labor, show utmost respect and loyalty to their mother even when she is a tyrant, refrain from having friends, always do exactly what is expected of you even if that means relinquishing any hope for your own happiness, forget about having fun and study classical music five or six hours a day, even on vacation and when they are sick. She claims it backfires, sort of, but not really.

If you are like me and feel your own part-Asian guilt strings pulling at you then you might understand why a vacation that promises ten days of leisure, with no more expectations other than to drink, eat, sleep, read, nap and relax, might push you into the uncomfortable zone. In very few ways did I grow up like the Tiger Mother's kids, but I did grow up with a half-Asian mom with a work ethic that makes you exhausted just hearing about it. She was my role model and now I have had a very hard time determining for myself just how much I should push myself and what is a balanced life for me.

There is a battle going on. Sitting around to "relax" is torture but I have also come to realize that I push through the agonizing pain of the weight of too many expectations on my shoulders, most of which were placed there by me. What is haunting me is the addictive promise of what hard work, dedication, discipline and focus can bring you, like it did for the Tiger Mother's kids, sort of. Yet, there is an iconoclast that lives within me trying desperately to tear down these beliefs and whisper the truth. Now I am stuck in the middle, with nowhere to go, except maybe Mexico.

We are here in the open air reception area of our hotel, greeted by my husband's birth mother and her husband. The skies open up and rain comes down like a waterfall. It is a beautiful downpour. Welcome to Mexico.

The skies clear quickly and we go to a cousin's multi-floor rental overlooking the water. We meet some family for the first time, drink and eat into the night.

Our balcony doors are open through the night and the sound of the hotel staff setting up for breakfast in the outdoor dining area six floors below our room wakes me at 6 a.m. After some time I fall back asleep and sleep until 10 a.m.

We catch a Mexican bus, for six pesos each, and go into central Puerto Vallarta. We walk along the water and through the streets and down on the beach. We stop at a beachside restaurant for an early dinner. After some more walking around town, we watch some live music in the square in front of the cathedral, then we notice the amazing sunset. We manage to catch the Mexican bus back to our hotel.

I'm not sure how this vacation is going to shape up, its been very nice so far and I can't complain about the view.

Its good to be here.

Summer Road Trip - Driving to San Francisco

I am weary. I was about to say I am weary of driving, but that is not true. I am not weary of traveling either. The fact is, I have no idea what I am weary "of". Now, this kind of disturbs me, because I think I may be on to something here, this unknown weary "of". I have felt this weary, many, many times, it is so familiar, like feeling hungry, only I know what to do to not feel hungry anymore, or tired. I think I may be weary of being "out there", which is to say, I am tired of pushing myself to do strange and new things. And it is a push, its almost always a push. Even though I love traveling and road trip driving and going out on mini-adventures it is always a push for me to get "out there". Even though I would not even consider not doing something, I really want to go, I am excited to go, I still have to push myself out the door. Paul, likes to go out at night, to bars or to restaurants or movies. He is not a big party-goer by any means, but he does like to go out a lot more than I do. I like to go out too... sometimes and only for a certain amount of time. Then, I must go home. I may not be tired, but I am weary. I tried to explain what this feels like, I told him, going out, even when it is fun, is always stressful. Maybe more like excited stress, a more pleasant stress, but it is stress nonetheless and it makes me weary. Why? Good question. Maybe it is because I feel small and vulnerable and uncomfortable. Maybe it is because I soak so much around me in, that I, energetically, can not sponge up one more drop. I can tell you that when I have had my fill, I am done very quickly and may abruptly want to go home, really, need to go home.
So, now I have had my fill. I have traveled for much longer than this before, but not alone. This is probably the point where I should take the shortest route back to San Francisco, but this is not what I do either. I guess, because, there is one last shred of something pulling at me to get the most out of this trip. To go "out there" and see if the world can't surprise me one more time, with something marvelous. So, that is how I decided that I would take the long way home and drive through Yosemite.

Road out of Las Vegas

I left Las Vegas very early, on the road by 6:15am. The air was still a pleasant temperature, but that didn't last long. I started so early because I wanted to finish driving through Death Valley before the temperatures got unbearable. I made several wrong turns in an attempt to get on the right road and then again to get coffee and gas and then again when I got back on the highway. But eventually, I found it. The road was relatively empty but there was a bunch of those orange and white barrels set up, closing down one lane, for non-existent road construction. I obeyed the speed limit, even speeding a little bit but people kept passing me on the shoulder, they must be locals. I think when you drive out of Las Vegas it feels kind of like you are driving out into a vast void. Can a void even be vast?

Heading toward the mountains

I reached the heart of Death Valley around 9am. The pleasant temperature was definitely gone and I turned on my air conditioning. I looked at all the people touring around this national park. They must be crazy or uninformed. Who wants to visit Death Valley in the summer? It is not really fit for human habitation in the summer and a lot of things close. I pass the sand dunes and start heading up the first range of mountains. Oh yes, I had done this drive several times this past March. I had to turn my air conditioning off because the road climbs the mountains forever. 

The valley between the two mountain ranges

Of course, once you get to the top, you have to go back down the mountain, into another valley, whose floor is covered in a thick band of desert sand. Then, of course, you immediately have to go back up another range of mountains and it really makes all the work your car just did to go up the first mountains range seem like it was for nothing. I pass Panamint Springs, where Paul and I had stayed last March and continued up the mountains, again with my air conditioning turned off. This set of mountains seems much steeper and it actually gets kind of chilly out at 9,000 feet. There are hairpin turns and cliffs and slowpokes in cars. But eventually I descend again into a new valley and this time the mountains I see to the west are the eastern side of Sierras.

Eastern side of the Sierras

The road dumps me off near Lone Pine, another place I have come to be very fond of. This is another place Paul and I had stayed last March, but it is also the place, almost a year ago to the day that two of my sisters and their husbands and I started our backpacking trip into the Sierras. That trip was a lot of fun, minus the altitude sickness and that one day where we stayed in our tents all day long while it poured and poured rain.  In Lone Pine, I head north, towards the eastern side of Yosemite. Here, I start to see pine trees and I get excited, a proper tree! I like seeing the landscape change like this, I guess that is part of the amazing American road trip. I don't hurry and I really soak in the views. It is beautiful and mountainous, but still very, very dry. I am starting to get low on gas, but I figure I have plenty to get me to Lee Vining, the major town on the east side of Yosemite, except that, I forgot I would have to negotiate some major elevation gain along the highway. My watch nervously as my gas gauge dips to Empty. Then I start to panic. Here I am far from the nearest town and I am going to run out of gas. I have never run out of gas. Then, the road stars to descend and the gas gauge goes back up. I still get off at the next exit for gas, which turns out to be the exit for Mammoth Ski area. It seems bustling with the outdoors type, their cars and SUVs loaded up with mountain bikes and kayaks. Someday I would like to come back here and camp and maybe, in the winter, ski.

So I get my gas and head toward Lee Vining and Mono Lake. Then I head up the road toward Yosemite. Now, if you ever get a chance to take this road, do it, because it climbs up the dry mountains forever, along this edge and the views are amazing. The landscape changes into pines and alpine meadows and lakes and streams and rounded boulder and wildflowers. But it is far to dangerous to take photographs and there is no place to stop along the way. But it is a magnificent drive. Now, the whole reason I wanted to drive through Yosemite, the long way home, was that I heard the wildflowers, at high elevation, were supposed to amazing and they were. But they only place I really saw them was along the road where you absolutely could not stop your car. So I enjoyed them from my car and that was it. But I did stop at Tolumne Meadows, one of my favorite places. When I had been here in late June it was still kind of cold and there were tons of mosquitoes. This was no longer the case. The meadows were calm and peaceful although there were too many other people there for my taste. But that's ok.

Tolumne Meadows

After my short jaunt in the meadows I get back in my car and stop at Tenaya Lake where there were quite a few people enjoying their day along the shores, swimming and kayaking and rafting. There were even some wildflowers blooming. I don't stick around long. I am a bit disappointed about the wildflower bloom and now I just want to get home. So, I continue on as the road takes you down into the valley and I had already decided I was not stopping if there was a bear sighting. I drive through pine forests and get stuck behind slow moving RVs. I do notice a couple of meadows full of yellow flowers, but not in time to pull off the road. I make my exit quickly and then follow the long line of other cars going home from their weekend in Yosemite. Eventually I hit the rolling golden hills dotted with oak trees. I love those oak trees, their gnarled twisting branches reaching out in whimsical, wise directions. Then the road flattens and I drive through Central Valley towns finally, to the interstate. I manage okay for a long time until I get close to the Bay Area where I hit a shocking amount of traffic outside of Livermore. Apparently there was a big accident. Oh, I am reminded of what is in store for me in "normal" life where traffic like this is a regular, daily occurrence.  I am not looking forward to my commute to work tomorrow. Oh my gosh, I am going to work tomorrow, that seems a little insane.
The traffic really has me upset. I want to get home so bad I can barely stand it. I am not used to traffic. Other than a little bit of traffic in Salt Lake City I have not been in traffic in two weeks. I am restless, checking my maps to see if there is some way around this mess. There is not. Not without going a crazy distance out of the way. But eventually I make it through and I am on my way to San Francisco. Crossing the Bay Bridge is my last milestone. But there is a lot of traffic here too. Ah, welcome to the Bay Area. The sun is going down as I race impatiently through the city. But then, I am home. Paul comes out to welcome me. I am so glad to see him. It is weird to be in my house again. Foreign and familiar at the same time. I walk through the house, amazed at it. Amazed at being home and how different it feels and looks and smells. This is why I travel, this is why we have to get away. We need to come home and appreciate it. We need to get some perspective on how life can be different. We can feel what it is to relax and adventure and discover. This way, it makes "normal" life seem more bearable and even nice. When we get stuck in a rut or a routine that isn't working for us, then we need to get away and hit the reset button. Then we can come back and decide to do it differently, even if the routine is the same, the perspective can be different. We can be refreshed and excited to do the things, the small things, that make up the bulk of our life. This is how we live, day to day, most of our life. We should like it, we should love it, we should accept it, find peace with it and if it no longer suits us, then we can better see, how we need to change.
So, my trip had some disappointments. I did not go on even one of my planned hikes. I didn't get to see the Grand Tetons or visit Yellowstone properly. I never once even opened up my tent. But, I got to see my sister in New York and I got to visit Idaho with Rose and I got to see Becki in Utah and those were the highlights. But I think I learned a lot about disappointment and maybe how expectations can make us unhappy. I think I was reminded again on how important it is to go with the flow, change plans, adapt, improvise, if you can do this then you can always find a way to peace. I'm sure it will be hard to go back to work. I'm sure I will again slip into a state of discontentment. I'm sure I will again set unrealistically high expectations for others but especially for myself. But maybe this time I won't slip so low, maybe this time I will have better tools to cope. And if it gets to bad, then I know, it will be time for another adventure.

Summer Road Trip - Zion National Park & Las Vegas

My plan had been to do the Angel's Landing hike in Zion National Park. Now, I had read up on this hike and the best time to do it is not in the heat of August. It also gets really, really crowded. It also has some really dangerous and narrow parts, made much worse by crowding. Also, my friend April, who I was to meet up with in Las Vegas, warned me that a friend of hers fell to her death on this hike. So, to prepare and plan for this hike, I had decided, before I even started on this trip, to get up super early and get to the park early, take the required shuttle to the trailhead and beat the crowds. I do not prefer hiking crowded, dangerous hikes in the hottest month of summer in dry climates. I had set the alarm on my cell phone. But, you see, I have a problem with alarms. I have slept through many, many alarms in my life. I have missed many classes and many exams from sleeping through alarms in college. I worked 35 hours a week in college and I would get home from work around 9:30 or 10:00 at night and start studying until the early morning hours. Then I would depend on my alarm to wake me for my 8:00 or 9:00 class or exam because I always scheduled my classes as early as I could so I could finish as early as possible to get to work as early as possible. It is a vicious cycle. But I often sleep very deeply, sleeping through parties, thunderstorms and alarm clocks. My roommates would think my alarm clock went off and I was not at home and eventually, after an hour, the alarm clock would just shut itself off. So, I got a second alarm clock, set five minutes later than the first. When this did not do it, I got a third alarm clock, but still, this did not work either. Finally, my mother discovered the perfect alarm clock with the most annoying sounding buzzer you have ever heard. I have never slept more than twenty minutes through this alarm. It has never failed to wake me, even if twenty minutes later. So, I just set it twenty minutes earlier than the absolute latest time I had to get up.  Sadly, this alarm clock died about six months ago and I have never had the confidence that I will wake up in time since, usually producing a very poor night's sleep over worry that I will sleep through the alarm. Anyway, my cell phone alarm clock fails me this morning and I sleep and sleep. When I do wake up I am excruciatingly disappointed. It is nine o'clock, way too late to get ready, drive over an hour to Zion, hopefully get a parking spot, take the shuttle and make it to the trailhead. So, I immediately discard the whole notion. Now what to do? 
I am seriously considering just driving home. It is morning and I am kind of lonely. I realize that last night was the first night of my entire trip that I spent alone, unless you consider the red-eye on the flight from Salt Lake City, but I don't think that counts. Now, I like to be alone, I really require enormous amounts of alone time, which you think would make me "low maintenance" but, really, I require so much alone time that I think it starts to swing back in the direction of "high maintenance". It can be hard to plan things with me because I already have all my seemingly "free" time spoken for, filled up with my "alone time" things. But despite voluntarily spending a lot of time alone, I do not like to be lonely. You would think that someone who needs so much alone time would not get lonely, but we do and it sucks. I think this is one of the reasons why Paul and I are such a good match, we both like a lot of alone time, which we can have, together. So here, I am a bit puzzled by why I am feeling lonely. But I am. I am pulled because I want to continue to explore but I want to be home, in my familiar surroundings. I guess I am missing having meaningful, human connection, which I can't really have with strangers, if I were even "connecting" with strangers, which I have not done on this trip. It is kind of hard to do when you sit in your car driving most of the time.

I decide that I will not decide. I will start out on the road, in the direction of Zion National Park an hour away and if I don't feel like it then I will just keep driving in the direction of home. I am not on the road more than a few miles when I am struck by the views of huge golden fields. Wow, I am a bit mesmerized by them and then the later fields of tall, yellow, daisy-like wildflowers. Hmm... I see a sign for Zion already, not the heart of the park, but the northwestern section of the park, the much less visited section of the park, the much less crowded section of the park. I fight with indecision for what seems like several minutes, almost in a panic, and at the last second I take the exit for this part of the park and the fate of my day has been decided.
I stop in the visitor's center and show my yearly park pass and get a map. Then I start up the scenic road.

I decide to stop, at random, at a trailhead parking lot and go on a hike that sounds interesting. Zion National Park always amazes me with its huge red mountains and today I am hiking right towards them, among them, following along a shallow creek. The creek is very clear and makes musical sounds in the quiet of this place. There are many lovely plants and wildflowers blooming along the way. I also spot a lizard in the red sand. The trail meanders in and out of pine woods and often requires me to tip toe across some rocks to cross the creek, adding some nice variety.

Plant Life

Lizard

The creek

Glow Sticks

Cabin in the Woods

River in the Woods

The trail is leading me directly into a narrow and deep valley, formed by the red mountains. There, is a rock "overhand" where water drips down, forming small glass-like pools. I am so taken by the pools that I don't explore the rest of this area right away. An older man is there with his older wife. He tells me, "There is an amazing view if you just step back here and look up."
"Okay, thanks. I will." I assure him. I am snapping away some photos of the pools for several minutes, maybe ten minutes or more. When the older man says, "Young lady, make sure you step back here and take a look up at the view." Geezus, I will already, can you cut me a freaking break? Does he want me to do it right then and there just to make him feel better? This man, whom I owe nothing, is not going to tell me what and when I should freaking do something. I want to tell him to go mind his own business, that pointing out something once is plenty enough times. But all I say is, "Okay" in a monotone voice and then, barely missing a beat, I go back to exactly what I was doing. He and his wife leave. I mean, the guy seemed really nice, but don't push your concern on me like that, there is nothing that turns me off faster.

Reflection in Pool

Okay, so when I was done and ready, I did walk back about fifteen feet to the place he mentioned and looked up. Yes, it was quite nice, but not so-freaking-nice-I-am-going-to-wet-my-pants. So, I hike back to my car and continue on this scenic drive through Zion. I saw some beautiful deep canyons and mountains and overlooks. Very amazing stuff and my day of travel was more inspired. Then, at the end of the road I made my way back down to the interstate and headed towards the heart of the park, except that I got sidetracked. I was so enamored by this lesser know part of the park that I wanted to see more "lesser known" parts of the park, so I decided to venture up this one long road through a remote area that passed in and out of the park like a sewing needle.

So, in a small town on a nearly unmarked road I made a left turn. It took me through some dusty, rural neighborhoods out into the dry countryside. I passed fields of dryness and some houses and pastures. People live out here, its amazing. Even the town didn't have much to offer. But they seemed to really love this place because it looked like they had put a lot into the comforts of their home. I drove toward multi-colored mountains and passed through acres and acres of dead trees, perhaps dead orchards that had withered to gray trunks and branches. The road climbed higher and higher and then, all of a sudden, where this red, paved road leveled out was an enormous golden field. I pulled my small purple car as far off the road as I could get it, but really, it was flat here so if a car did come they could easily and safely pass me. Besides, I hadn't even see one other car for many, many miles. Of course, as soon as I pull of, I get passed by six cars. I take a few photos and admire this cluster of the long stemmed daisies that is growing near the fence of the golden field.

Then I am off again, enjoying the amazing views. Eventually I read a crude sign that points me down a dirt road to the overlook that I have decided is my final destination. The dirt road takes me through a green mountain pasture with a few private homes. It is much cooler here, peaceful, remote but not lonely, clam and lovely. I envy the people that live here, even though it is so, so far away from everything. I pass a quiet campground and make a note to myself that I must come back here and camp. The overlook does have amazing views and I drink it in like I would water after a very long run on a very hot day.

I notice there is a group of about six couples, all kind of older, that are leaving. I overhear a bit of their conversation, but other than them there is no one else around. They are leaving and talking about what a great day they had. This reminds me of the time. Ok, actually, I have not forgotten about the time. In fact, I rarely forget about the time. But maybe it is more like it nags me about the time. I need to leave Zion National Park at a reasonable time to drive the two or three hours to Las Vegas so that I can get into town at a reasonable hour to visit with my friend April. So I finish my admiration of the overlook and decide that if I leave right now, I should get into Las Vegas by 5:30, plenty of time to visit with April, the mother of a young child, at a reasonable family hour.

So, I race down the road and back out to the highway. I race across the desert of Utah into the desert, almost wasteland of Nevada through nothing until I hit the lights of Las Vegas. I call April along the way and she does not answer, so I leave her a voice message informing her of my approximate arrival into town. Las Vegas is such a contrast to the last several days of my trip. Neon, traffic, highways and cement. I get off at my exit, near downtown Las Vegas and miss my motel. So I go to the next street and make a right to go around the block. There I encounter the homeless, drugged out population of Las Vegas. The street is full of shopping cart after shopping cart of the homeless. Ragged, tired looking people sit on the sidewalk looking like they had seen better days. I notice that my motel has tall bars around the whole complex. I pull into the motel and check in where an older gentleman kindly helps me from behind the counter. I go to my rather shabby room of the Comfort Inn surrounded by bars. At least there is a pool, also surrounded by bars in the middle of the large parking lot. I call April again and there is again no answer so I leave another message. Then I call her at home and there is no answer. I go to the pool for a short time to cool off and I keep my cell phone within earshot to wait for her call back. But it never comes. I go back inside and decide to get something to eat. I try to go to Capriotti's which is a small Hoagie chain from back home in Pennsylvania and they happen to have opened a small chain in Las Vegas, but I get there two minutes before they close. Disappointed, I was hoping to have a Bobbie for dinner (their special hoagie with turkey, cranberry sauce and stuffing on a hoagie roll) I go back to my motel and look up something else online. I end up at Thai BBQ which had high ratings on Yelp but turned out to be a joke. It wasn't too terrible but it wasn't too good either. On my way back to the motel I drive through downtown Las Vegas, past the old casinos of another glory time in Las Vegas' history. I see a person decked out like Darth Vadar walking down Main St. Really, it looks exactly like Darth Vadar is walking the streets, ah, only in Las Vegas.
When I get back to my room, I am feeling disappointed, forgotten and lonely again. I feel foolish too, for racing back to Las Vegas, which I generally deplore, to see my friend who seems to have forgotten that we made a date only yesterday to get together today. You see, when I make a date with someone I keep it. When I make time in my schedule for someone, I keep it. My time is so precious to me that it actually feels like a huge investment for me to give it up to spend with someone else. If I make time for you than you are important to me, I don't make time for just anyone. But not everyone feels this way and over the years, they generally have ceased to be close friends with me (or I with them, for that matter). So instead, I digest my crappy Thai food in a dingy motel surrounded by bars in one of my least favorite cities, lovely Las Vegas.