flowers for myths

I'm looking for a picture. I can see it in my head. It's of two teenage boys, one with wild, curly blonde hair, the other pursing his lips in the way people look when they're caught in mid-sentence. They stand in a high school music room and behind them, pinned up on the corkboard, is someone's school project on Beethoven. The one talking is wearing a t-shirt with the words Led Zeppelin and the lyrics to Stairway to Heaven printed. The picture is time stamped in orange: 6 6 '98. Today, I find out that boy is dead. 

incredibly specific kitchen gadgetry

My brother got us a SodaStream for Christmas. That's totally out of left field. Outside of, maybe Sweden, I know of only one person who has ever woken up and wished for a SodaStream machine. And that guy was kinda only joking. According to Wikipedia, 20 percent of Swedish households own one of these things. And no kidding. Look at the happy family on this ad insert! Target audience, much?

the amphitheatre neighbourhood

I'm lucky to be able to see my home through fresh eyes; I still have my tourist glasses on. The harsh light; too full of contrasts, making everything look too dark, then too white. There's a hodge podge of buildings along the waterfront, all angular, all different styles, different materials, nothing much to unify the skyline. The space. The big gaps between people on the street. The casual dress, as if everyone's just thrown anything on to buy milk from a corner store. Here, even our bars have outdoor sports, volleyball, tetherball, ping pong. People can't sit still. And the wind. My god, the wind. A friend of ours called it "limiting". Sometimes, I want to scream into it. It's a love/hate thing, this being home. 

it's not all eat. pray. love.

Day 99 & 100 Palm Springs, a drive back to LAX

There's barely two days left of this; our hundred-day flight from home. One of my favourite quotes is by Alain de Botton, in the Art of Travel:

If our lives are dominated by a search for happiness, then perhaps few activities reveal as much about the dynamics of this quest...than our travels. They express... an understanding of what life might be about, outside the constraints of work and the struggle for survival.

On our last day in Palm Springs, we're treating ourselves to a special brunch at the Parker. The waiters outnumber the guests by 3 to 1, it's so early in the morning. They all wear white pants. On the table across from us, a tiny little gryphon is ensconced on a chair, being fed bits of toast and waffle. 

frigid deserts

Day 98 (Christmas Day) Joshua Tree National Park

We're hiking in Joshua Tree National Park on Christmas Day. It brings back memories of Petra. But American. Which means you can drive to the start of the trail, the paths are clearly marked, and there's no one scamming you for money to use the toilet. Also, it only costs $15. 

jumping with cabazon dinosaurs

Day 97 (Christmas Eve) Upland, Cabazon Dinosaurs, Palm Springs

On our road trip to Palm Springs, we pass by Upland High School, site of Rob's early Californian high school days. He recounts the Taco Bell inside the cafeteria, the skateboard he bought from a friend which he brought all the way to New Zealand only to have it stolen, and the good grades he used to get because there was nothing else to do. Honestly, the scale and size of this high school is something else. I'm getting used to feeling incredibly provincial in America. Everything is B.I.G. Big. Sometimes, necessarily so. Other times? Questionable. 

last sunset at the canal

Day 96 Malibu, Venice Canals

On Tuesday mornings, at 7.30 am, the street in front of our Venice garage/shack gets swept. We wake up at the crack of dawn and blearily circulate round Whole Foods, buying Christmas groceries to bring to Palm Springs. We come to blows over dessert. It had to be over dessert. Rob wants to make a chocolate bowl and fill it with ice cream. I desperately want a cherry pie because 'Murica. In the end, my cherry pie wins the day. I gaze at the chocolate stand for a long time. There's nothing under US$3.99.

rollercoaster roads at Echo Park

Day 95 Echo Park, Costco Fail

I'm feeling like povvo Martha Stewart today. In the morning, I slap together tuna sandwiches and thrown in some funfetti chewy Chips Ahoy and fruit in a my souvenir Liberty bag. 

homeless at the end of the santa monica bike path

Day 94 Santa Monica Farmer's Market, end of the Bike Path

We have a love-hate relationship with our little Venice Canal garage. On Air BnB, it looks positively adorable with bright white walls, cosy quilts on a bunk bed, papier mache tigers, and Henri Rousseau-esque paintings on the walls. There's two bikes that you can use and you can cruise to the start of the Venice Boardwalk in less than five minutes. Throw a football behind you and it'll land in the canal, if there wasn't a wall.

It's still adorable in real life. But it gets bitterly cold at night and damp with heat during the day.  The bed sinks in the middle and there's barely any power. If you've got too many things plugged in and decide to take a shower, chances are the switch will flip and you'll be dripping water naked in the stall.  

stages of a sunset from griffith's observatory

Day 93 Santa Monica, Abbot Kinney, Griffith's Observatory

The night before I had to fish an insect out of Rob's left ear. True story. All day at the Getty, he'd complained about something fluttering in there. At night, I took a look with the aid of my cellphone flashlight and there it was, looking back at me with it's two tiny beady eyes. I don't know who was more scared; Rob because he had a living thing stuck in his ear or me because I was solely responsible for getting it out of there. A few Google searches later, we came out of CVS with the wrong-kind of tweezers (the pointy kind). In thirty minutes, I was stabbing Rob's ear drum with it. In the end, he got it out himself by pouring olive oil in his ear, drowning the bastard, and letting it float out. The next day, we look at all the suspiciously damp corners of the shoddily-converted Venice Beach garage we're staying in with new eyes.