Crossing the DESERT!

New Horizons

The Great Basin–Mojave Desert region. 

It's still a mystery to me, what this vast area we call "the desert" is, and how the various areas of it hang together. Before we came to Boulder City, Allan would say, "We are going to be living in the middle of a desert," so I took to saying that, as well. But how would it pan out? We landed first in Southern California, which itself is in the middle of a drought, and it looked pretty fried (crispy and brown). From that day on Venice Beach forward, I started cultivating the brown tone that characterizes my skin at present (in mid-September). So I was still in a state of suspense on the morning of Thursday, Aug. 13, when we would finally "cross the desert." 

Definitions:

A desert is a barren area of land where little precipitation occurs and consequently living conditions are hostile for plant and animal life. ~Wikipedia.org
A large, dry, barren region, usually having sandy or rocky soil and little or no vegetation. Water lost to evaporation and transpiration in a desert exceeds the amount of precipitation; most deserts average less than 25 cm (9.75 inches) of precipitation each year, concentrated in short local bursts. ~ Dictionary.com

Beginner Blogger

Eagerly, we pack up, after our fourth 'Days' Inn' breakfast (which by now has lost its freshness), and it proves a breeze to stow our luggage in the new-to-us minivan. We are off to a early start for our 5:30 pm appointment in our reserved condo in "The Spanish Steps".  No wonder it's early: At around 6 am Allan's cell phone rang, from an unfamiliar Nevada number, and he assumed it was yet another call from yet another insurance company. Having already decided to risk driving today's stretch uninsured, and wait until in Boulder City to sign up, he refused the call. But at around 7 am the phone rang again -- this time from Seattle, WA, whilst in the shower and we thought it best to answer -- just in case it be some sort of family emergency. However, the caller was the so-called "property manager" for the condo-owner; the latter in a panic about whether we were still coming as planned, because we'd been out of touch for a day or two. 

Is this dream-spot for real?

A word about the condo is in order here: we had been on the lookout for months when this one showed up on Craigslist, and it had been a somewhat bumpy road towards where we were now: with no formal signed agreement, and no deposit paid, but a promise on both sides. So both parties were equally "sold" and "invested" in the virtual deal, and both a bit nervous about the other backing out. What prevented an exchange of actual funds was the multiple warnings we'd received about scams that made us skeptical.  At this point, we reassured "the other" that we would appear on time, and close the deal, as promised. I admit to sweating it a bit as we set out to cross the desert: a) unfamiliar car b) no insurance c) the suspense of a 'blind date.' 

First Draft of First Blogpost.

At any rate... I was eager to begin my blog, and this was the first stretch of time I had available for the task. Aha! The Blank Space ;). Optimally situated in my bucket seat behind the driver, I commanded a bird's eye perspective upon both the interior and the exterior of the vehicle as it rolled towards Las Vegas. I observed the conspicuously spacious, "deserted" world around me, musing and filling a couple of 'pages,' from which the following is an excerpt (may it also serve as a summary of previous blogposts):

Clean slate in the desert. 

Inspiration comes easily in a new place.

Here we are, at long last, cruising at 60 mph through Southern California towards Las Vegas. Allan is driving, Max is drawing, and I am dreaming. Outside it is 44 C./112 F. but inside we are nice and comfy with the air conditioning on in our new-to-us ’99 Dodge Grand Caravan. It has four captain’s seats, two in front and two in the mid section, and we have folded down the bench seat behind me, to store our luggage. As Max and Allan venture outside to pee, I tease them that it will evaporate before it touches the ground. We have been hydrating on Max’s root beer from Walmart in Fullerton, poured into plastic cups full of ice purchased for 30 cents at a refueling station along the way. Max claims "I have become Mom!" as he surpasses me in demand for pit stops! 

Baggage stowed neatly--
preserving rear view ("hindsight").

The vast fields of clean light sand flecked with tumbleweed are quite a contrast to the tangle of clutter we left behind in Norway. Though we used our full baggage allowance of two 22-1/2 kg. pieces each plus 10 kg. hand baggage and one personal item each on the flight over, it all tucks nicely behind us leaving a clear view through the back window, unlike previous trips with four or five kids filling all the seats of our previous Ford Aerostars and baggage stacked up to the roof! Our current conditions seem modern and spacious! 

Trigger finger lagging behind sudden flashes of lightning ;)

Three cracks of lightning. An hour later we have experienced a brief and welcome downpour that rapidly cooled the air to a record-breaking minimum of 24 C. We were going over a pass, and in accordance with the warning signs, we turned off the air conditioning to avoid overheating the motor -- and passed a number of vehicles stopped on the shoulder with hoods open. Max jokes, "Sucker!" but we all realize that it is a dangerous situation to overheat your engine and stall when it's well over 40 C. outside. 

Max just now opened his iphone to read us an “emergency alert” about flash floods in this area. The sky is threateningly dark, with big vertical streaks of rain surging downward here and there! [pic] It’s quite an exciting drive and I am perfectly content with my second row seat. How cool is it that we get to experience the rare drama of rain and lightning in the desert? More and more lightning sparks the question from Max, “What would happen if we got struck by lightning?” 

Our sun-peeled work-horse, wet 'n' shiny. 

Well, the tires prevent the lightning from even striking automobiles, Allan says, and volunteers his opinion that  "this car was a steal" what with brand new tires, clean motor, no oil burning, no overheating... The only minus is cosmetic: the finish is flakey from steady, intense sun rays over the years. This is the fourth vehicle we viewed in our search for one that would satisfy us all. Allan wanted a mini-van: reliability, good gas mileage, only one owner, and low price were his main criteria. Max wanted an SUV: a cool car he wouldn’t be embarrassed to be picked up or dropped off at school was his demand. As for me, I wanted a clean and comfortable interior and a quiet ride. (Guess for yourselves what quality we lack in our recent experience with the minibus in Trondheim? I’ll tell you: the stiffly upright seats and the engine noise are insufferable!) Despite the damage to the outermost finish, there are no signs of rust. And I’d rather be comfortable inside than focused on the appearance from the outside. Allan hopes to wax the dull spots and make it more even...  (This, I shall peremptorily inform you, did not work out. Nor did we even try Max's suggestion of spray paint, seeing how his gold scooter already has scratch marks ;).)

A sparkling view through the rain spattered windshield.

OK, that's that. The rest I wrote at the time, is too repetitive to paste in here, since I have already covered the car purchase in a previous post. The upshot of it all is that each of us enjoyed the ride and appreciated the advantages and amenities of the minivan. Statistics add up to suggest that SUV's are not such safe cars to ride in as they are constructed for off-road use and not for freeway driving where they can lose their grip and roll due to a lack of stability. Max, advantageously sitting in the front seat, reconciled himself to appearances for the time being. So this is how the rest of the trip unfolded: 

More and more lightning, too many flashes to count! Fascinated by the show in the sky, we missed the turn-off to Boulder City and wound up in central Las Vegas in stand-still rush hour traffic, windshield wipers swishing frantically to clear our view of the gutters full of gushing and gurgling rainwater. Later we are told that this is the result of monsoon activity in the area. Monsoon? 

"July and August can also be marked by "monsoon season", when moist winds from the Gulf of California soak much of the Southwestern United States. While not only raising humidity levels, these winds develop into dramatic desert thunderstorms that can sometimes cause flash flooding." ~ Wikipedia.org

When two and two are put together regarding prevalent desert dryness and infrequency of downpours, how likely is it that we should arrive with all this flash, boom and fanfare? It was truly a memorable entree to the drama of the desert area we were committed to inhabit for the next 10 months. What's more, the next days and weeks would be as dry as bones and as hot as a Finnish sauna. When informing local people as to when we arrived, we can merely say: "The day it rained -- remember?" And of course, they do. How cool is that?

Looking ahead: The desert offers, in its own way, a unique opportunity for experiencing catharsis. For one thing, there are the extremes: scorching heat vs. crisp cold fronts, stillness vs. howling winds, drought vs. flash floods. A heat wave feels like being in a sauna constantly -- and that is rumored to be cleansing and detoxifying (one of the touted benefits of hot-yoga). Also, the desert offers subtle moments of stimulation such as lizards darting here or there unexpectedly, quails strutting about, dragonflies, desert rats,  hidden snakes and sneaky spiders, and now (in September), gorgeous yellow butterflies flitting about. In other words, there is more than meets the unaccustomed eye, if one but fine-tunes one's senses (ears, eyes and nose). 

This is a colorful mural in downtown Boulder City. The artist depicts the bio-diversity of the area symbolically:
A ring of dry mountains surrounding Lake Mead, desert wildlife including big-horned sheep, snakes, birds, and cactus...

Interested to learn more? Here's a link: http://www.nwrc.usgs.gov/sandt/Great-bn.pdf

A Free Day in L.A.

This is our Bliss...

Mission accomplished regarding our respective sets of wheels, we awaken on Wednesday Aug. 12 to the tune of (you guessed it): a blank PAGE. No need to be in Boulder City before tomorrow evening, so why hurry? We reap the first reward of efficiency: freedom to be tourists for one day in L.A. What to do? Had you just arrived from the Arctic, after a so-called "summer" that offered very little temptation to do anything but our work, what would you choose? 

"The list of things to do in Los Angeles is as long as the city is vast. If your time in town is limited, you could spend days in the museums alone and never even make your way to Hollywood. Expect to put in a few miles between hitting up Venice Beach and exploring a hip Eastside 'hood. But that's the great thing about this city: there are so many things to do and see, like the ones listed below, to get the most from your LA getaway."

http://www.timeout.com/los-angeles/things-to-do/great-things-to-do-in-los-angeles

We enthusiastically agree with "timeout" and get an early start, still aided by jet lag that tips the scales in our favor. A little precaution however: if you read the previous entry and noticed the text in "the pink slip" that transferred ownership of said vehicle to new owner, you may have raised your eyebrows at the relinquishing of insurance responsibility by previous owner. Allan takes a precursory look at insurance plans, but rather than compromise our holiday outing, scattered his contact info here and there, and off we go (neatly avoiding rush hour, however). 

In downtown Venice, the phone calls start coming in, as we meander the streets to find a gas station... There is nothing to do but park, listen (to one insurance offer "better" than the other), and finally learn to ignore phone calls ("Sucker!"). At some point, Allan judges our navigational position to be close enough to walk to the beach, and so we set out on foot -- in the wrong direction. Fascinated by the street people, we get disoriented, and succumb to gnawing hunger at Taco Bell where avocado appears on the billboard.  Picking our way back via landmarks, Allan marks the GPS with the approximate location of our parking spot as we scoot past in the opposite direction. It's two miles to the beach! Max offers use of his gold scooter to the complaining member of the threesome (me). And that makes the trek much more fun! Somewhere down the line, I hide and jump out to startle the twosome on foot (paying Max back for his frequent pranks)! The oldest kid on the block...Gee whiz!

This dude hesitates -- not -- to test the water and waves. WE (watching from the notably long fishing pier extending far over the water) got to guard the gold scooter! Hearts in throats, we struggle to keep track of the intrepid young man body surfing in the waves - where later, we learn, on Labor Day weekend, someone disappeared! Phew! 

A SNEAK PREVIEW: "Here's our HuffPost News unofficial, totally subjective list of Five Places to Avoid This Labor Day Weekend!

1. VENICE BEACH

This popular piece of California coastline is naturally crowded...like on a Wednesday at noon...in December...it's still packed! Multiply that typical crowd by ten and you're caught in the middle of one of the WORST spots to visit on a summer holiday weekend.

Additionally: "Labor Day bummer: Rip currents, swells close an L.A. County beach

The increased emphasis on beach safety comes days after a swimmer died at Venice Beach after getting caught in a rip current. The man was swimming with two other people about 200 feet from the shore when they were overcome by the current."

“The waves were nasty today, Indeed. I swam around and around in a couple of rips sand ‘sneaker waves.’”

LIBERTARIAN COLLECTIVIST

AT 11:24 PM SEPTEMBER 06, 2015

2. BRIDGEPORT, CT

3. LAS VEGAS, NV

Aside from the holiday hotel rates and packed bars, it's too hot to be anywhere other than the pool and the pool is packed with frat boys and their baes, international celebrity DJ's, and sometimes, something else. A few years back some of the most popular pools on the Vegas strip tested positive for high levels of urine and bacteria. Bacteria known to cause urinary track infections and skin infections.

4. SEATTLE, WA

5. ANY BEACH IN THE CAROLINAS"

Get the picture? At this point we just watch, open-jawed, and proud, with nostalgia for the days when we ourselves enjoyed this sort of thing... Relieved when Max emerges from the waves, and reports that he gulped a bunch of water -- so that's enough for now. As for me, I have reconfirmed my preference for still water!

Scooting to the far end of the pier and back, the back end flips up when I reach the edge of the sand! (Still lots to learn!)

Oh, and where is that famed boardwalk? Haven't seen the hide of it yet, but maybe way yonder, where all the people are? Yes, indeed-y, that is the way to go -- but oh my, it adds to the distance from the car. Allan has a heavy backpack and so do I; we are getting tired... but decide to stick together anyhow. After the street shows and kitsch, the walk back is practically the best part: there is artful graffiti, and unique architecture. There is much to be observed, consumed, and absorbed!

So, here are some of the visible traces of our free day in L.A. ("our bliss.") An extra tall AriZona beverage that could be shared 3-ways, an exclusive gold scooter that likewise gave us all some free kicks (or vice versa), and vibrant colors, exotic scents, tanned skin, good memories... 

Today we recharged our batteries; tomorrow we drive across the Mojave desert to Las Vegas/ Boulder City! Be sure to tune in again and see what happens next, and whatever awaits us in the small American town soon to be called "home." We  are excited; we are ready to move on. Have I kept you in suspense long enough?

Take a deep breath...

L.A. is VAST and CARS (for sale) are few and far between... (SCAMS abound)

How to land your "pre-owned" vehicle in a very few days?

What a joy and relief it is to finally be in L.A. Everything is new and different, so that even walking down the street to find a shopping center and purchase SIM cards is fun. Defying expectation, teen-age Max rolls out of bed in time for breakfast. "Why am I not groggy?" he wonders. Pst! 9 am in L.A. is 6 p.m. in Trondheim, a most respectable hour at which to be served waffles ;). 

The air is balmy, the food is tasty; this fellow has two wheels and a can of gold spray paint: what more can one ask for? He'll tell you: a bonafide SUV! But whose birthday is this? An SUV does not top his "old man's" wish list, nor can he be swayed. RETRO models abound: Aerostar (groan), Previa (ugh!), Town and Country (you gotta be kiddin'?) and Grand Caravan ("ya Rookie!"). Will this young dude's smile last? 

Monday Aug. 10. Optimistically, we attack the online search. Allan looks exclusively at minivans to press the price down; Max points out snazzy SUV's and pushes for an extra grand in the budget; Alison looks at anything in a medium price range.The hope is that we will resolve this issue quickly on Allan's birthday and everyone will be happy. But the first appointment (a modest silver SUV) proves a disappointment, and the second (a white minivan) is no better. Hungry, we find a Chinese place in the parking lot where we happen to be and each orders according to personal preference.  Oh, will we ever agree on a car? Taste in vehicles proves more challenging than taste in food. 

1999 Dodge Grand Caravan (with leather "bucket" seats)

Night falls too soon and we have to quit making phone calls... Allan tosses and turns, unable to sleep what with the combination of jet lag and the unresolved issue of transportation to Boulder City where lease-signing looms both welcomingly and unsettlingly on Thursday at 1730. By early morning he has decided that "the thing to do" is drive the rental Ford Explorer to B.C. and take our time with the search. But determination bucks up, and luck follows suit. While pow-wowing around a Starbucks table (in breezy Riverside, CA), a fresh new ad appears. It's within reach financially and geographically, and boasts low mileage, bucket seats, and only one owner (a grandmother)  We make appointments and chart a course. The young man's hope fades as his "old man" eyes a good deal... 

 It becomes official. This minivan is the first that would work for us. It has space for our ample baggage, and equally comfortable, reclining seats for all three of us. It's delightfully smooth and quiet (compared to the minibus in Trondheim)! The exterior leaves something to be desired, displaying the results of widespread industrial experimentation, around the turn of the millennium, with lead-free paint, but the price is right -- and a glance around the highway reveals that we are in good company regarding the 'sunburned' look. Another family is on its way to view this listing, and we are afraid to lose it. Allan returns quickly to make an offer and it's accepted. In our mind's eye, we see Max pouting in the back seat of the SUV outside the office where the deal has just been closed.
That's when the seller really steps up to the plate -- just in time. Max returns with an ill-concealed frown, and the man picks up one of the crisp one hundred dollar bills and presents it to Max! We are all stunned. (We'd already gotten a good price for this car.) But it works like magic: Max is smiling again! 
As we depart the office, the other family does indeed arrive on schedule, disappointed that the good deal is gone, and we breathe a sigh of relief. (This was not merely a line as has been the case in our experience with other sellers.) We are in business! The next challenge is returning the SUV (one day early!) at LAX and picking this one up in Whittier. Allan researches public transportation, which is horrendous, takes his walking sticks, and sets out from the hotel after rush hour. It takes him until 130 am to return in good stead with our 1999 Dodge Grand Caravan ready and waiting in the hotels parking lot for morning. The night may be short, but he sleeps a whole lot better! 
Meanwhile, I consume the "doggy bag" from last night's Chinese dinner, roll out my yoga mat for the first time; Max rolls off to Walmart only to return and fetch me for more spray paint to complete the black details on his now-gold scooter. He says, "What do 14 year olds use spray paint for?" The answer is GRAFITTI, so it's required for someone over 18 even to CARRY the cans in the store. The elderly lady at the back of the store is so weary as she hands the paint over to me and says to Max, "Thank you, dearie, for gettin' your mom!" Max scoots off again to KFC, content with his independence. 

The Gap: A Motley Crew of Goners

We had a big gap between flights in Oslo, made even bigger by the 2 hour delay of the connecting flight to Los Angeles. After  the jam-packed quality of the preceding days and weeks, it was a most welcome change to have a break, and Alex readily volunteered to fill it with his adventuresome spirit: see the bike in the background? He brought it on the train to Gardermoen, and cycled back after a nice visit!  I envied his energy, for sure, but cycling was far from my own mind!

To the right you can see what the race to the finish line did to me! I had not slept all night, so this bench at the cafe in Oslo where Alex joined us, gave me a welcome respite. When we finally did board the plane, and I had eaten my pre-ordered vegan entree while each of us watched our entertainment of choice on the individual screens (Norwegian Dreamliner), I konked out before the coffee came around; even the suspense of "Wild" couldn't keep me awake. Now I'm talking about the plane ride: I stretched out with my head on Allan's lap and feet on Max's -- which they generously allowed!

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So,finally, we arrived at LAX well into the evening, and after gathering the luggage, rode this shuttle bus to collect our rental SUV from ENTERPRISE, after midnight local time (PDT). Now it was Max's turn to nod off, exhausted from tolerating my weight throughout the loooong flight! (Still smiling, though!) 

...Especially upon being presented with a shiny black Ford Explorer, the SUV of his dreams.(Nobody but me seems to have noticed nor recall the skinny model in very high heels who presents the customers with their keys!) All we had to do was enter the address of Days Inn Fullerton -- a tad further away from the airport than we had anticipated -- into the built in GPS and it steered us through the maze of freeways 'n' highways around L.A. directly to our doorstep. 'Twas by then 1:30 A.M. Monday August 10 (Allan's birthday); here is the colorful train of bags (what remained after the long sorting and packing process described earlier) that made it with us to our destination! Exhausted, we collapsed into the beds and were lulled to sleep by the white noise produced by the air conditioning system, satisfied and content to have a string of days ahead of us with nothing planned but the joyful/stressful task of choosing a "pre-owned" vehicle, and looking forward to the drive to Boulder City and the suspense of taking over our condo come Thursday. 

Pst! Stay tuned to hear about Max up bright and early for breakfast and no feeling of grogginess - imagine that! 

SKELETONS in my CLOSET

THE KONMARI METHOD OF TIDYING: 

"First, put your hands on everything you own, ask yourself if it sparks joy, and if it doesn’t, thank it for its service and get rid of it." 

My Personal Scare-crow!

THE TRAP OF OWNERSHIP: SPACE + PEOPLE X YEARS = CLUTTER

SAVING GRACE: SABBATICAL (every 7 years) CAN REDUCE CLUTTER CONSIDERABLY! (...People willing!)

Above you see the tip of the iceberg concerning my own piles eliminated from my wardrobe. That pile was the hardest to get rid of. It contains some new, unworn fashion items, with tags still on (often at bargain prices) -- things I definitely should have put back on the rack in the store. 

Another guru of de-cluttering, Peter Walsh, states that clutter is about delayed decisions. Couldn't be truer! When faced with a difficult decision in the store, I tended to bring the whole mess home, thinking that will make it easier. (Now it's different: one item at a time is much easier to return, and bringing home ONLY the one(s) I really like, works wonders.) 

So I learned to part with perfectly good stuff, and got acquainted with the good feeling of letting things go when not serving me/us. What is the point of keeping 'skeletons' in your closet when they could be danced with by someone else? In fact, here the classic psychodrama technique of 'role-reversal' comes in handy: ask the item itself what it wishes. Japanese tidying-guru Marie Kondo states that very seldom does an item reproach the owner in whom it no longer sparks joy; it simply wishes to be let go to serve someone else and bring joy to that person. That said, I hope my cheerful pile containing every color of the rainbow (like Joseph's coat of many colors) has dispersed itself amongst people to whom each item brings joy. 

As for me: much remains to bring me joy, following what my wise painting mentor, Greeny, advocated: "Less is More." So, rather than muck up a pristine page with too many bright colors, all competing for attention, so the result is either chaos or just plain mud, I now choose the style of the vignette wherein some areas of a given scene warrant and receive ample development and detail, whereas others remain sketchy or simply a calligraphic outline.  As an example, note this different version of "The Blank Space" motif (already presented under that blogpost heading). 

Kew-l! Here the color packs a punch, and the lines set off The Blank Space... Now I wonder whether I myself could achieve a composition of such combined simplicity and elegance? Indeed, it takes nerve allow oneself to be child-like and naive -- and yet, how refreshing! Once again, I feel this particular "whale card" grants me permission to be playful and cut all semblance of pretense!

Sabbatical!

"Visiting Professor"

In Norwegian, a sabbatical is commonly called "et friår" -- a free year. Admittedly, that does not say it all; so you might have to tack on "et forskningsår" -- a research year. We shall leave the research to the professor here, while I take on the freedom in the equation: let's see what the year brings!

Definitions:

1. (Traditional) Of or relating to the sabbath (the seventh day, a day held holy for rest)
2. (Biblical) A yearlong period to be observed by Jews once every seven years, during which the fields were to be left untilled and allagricultural labors were to be suspended.
3. (Standard) A period of paid leave granted to a college teacher for study or travel, traditionally every seventh year.
4. (By extension) Any extended period of leave from one's customary work, especially for rest, to acquire new skills or training, etc.
5. (Urban) Leave-time with pay granted to a teacher or professor after serving for six or seven years on the same faculty. Its purpose is to give an extended period of time for concentrated study
6. (Modern) A sabbatical year is a prolonged hiatus, typically one year, in the career of an otherwise successful individual taken in order to fulfill some dream, e.g. writing a book or travelling extensively.
7.  (Customized)    A    b l a n k    s p a c e   . . .

The Blank Space

The Blank Space: Obviously, it's the most powerful part of the painting! Without the blank space, the imagination would have nothing to work with. I drew this "whale" card from a spread in June at a socio-drama workshop co-led by Monica Zuretti. (The cards were painted by her artist son, I believe.) This event took place 2 months before our plunge out into the big wide world. The card(s) reminded me to preserve some blank space: not to fill my calendar to bursting. In this blog, I will dance and play in the blank space of the page..