When the odometer read 2000 miles, I was on the 101, skirting Scottsdale, my third 160-mile round-trip between my sister's house and Everyone Else in Phoenix.
At that point I'd been in Arizona for five days, having been chased out of the High Sierras of California by incoming snowfall, and upcoming Giants playoffs games.
I'd spent three rainy days in LA, a guest at a hostel in Santa Monica, a block off the Third Street Promenade. My fourth hostel of the trip, by far the biggest one I've ever been in. Great location, but a hostel with 160 beds lacks the charm one finds at your typical hostel. In San Luis Obispo, Cambria, Monterey, six to twenty people shared cooking, swapped stories in broken English, Spanish, German and French, planned separate and group adventures, in the limited common area. By contrast, Santa Monica was a barn – so many common-area rooms that it was unnecessary to share anything with anyone.
Then my last days in California - at Lake Elsinore at a high school friend's small but active ranch. I have video of feeding the horse and goat and chickens, but without assistance I cannot upload video. The blog how has a short, short video of a bear coming at me (did I say it was short? You try holding a camera with a 350-pound predator making a beeline for your ass...)
And then the two-day trip across the Mohave, saying goodbye to California for perhaps the longest time...
The Valley of the Sun has been fun, except for the aforementioned monster commutes. Base camp is the home of my sis and her partner, in a place called Surprise, Arizona. So named because so many people say "Surprise, there's shit way out here!" Peg and Carol took off for Oahu a few days after I got to Phoenix. Now it's just me and JibC, a wary golden-brown Sharpei. I finally won her affection by taking her for walks, a luxury not often afforded the energetic pooch, given the sedentary ways of her owner.
In Phoenix, I had a chance to visit another high school friend in the hospital and at home. The second visit, to his house, was something of an ambush. Between the invitation and the event, the guest list expanded from two to five, and Bob, still recovering from surgery, a follow-up to a decades-ago bicycle accident, seemed a bit overwhelmed. Sorry about that, Bob. If it's any consolation, we were really there for the World Series game ;-), a battle of number three pitchers that resulted in the Ranger's only victory. Otherwise the Series was a fantastic, dominating series by the Orange and Black, the best possible end to a fun and wild and highly dramatic season, full of dead-on pitching and just enough hitting, peppered with the occasional one-run heartbreaker.
As the Sierra camping was the high-point of the trip so far, the nadir to date was this Wednesday night, which was spent in violent regurgitation – salad and pizza and beer – some kind of food poisoning, I guess. Earlier this year, I had intestinal surgery, clearing out a blockage that stopped me from eating “hard” foods like nuts and popcorn for over 15 years. I'd had the pleasure of having my stomach pumped about once every three years; this surgery was supposed to clear out the problem for good. In theory, I would never again be retching on the bathroom floor for eight hours straight, waiting for daylight and a ride to the ER.
So as I was retching on the bathroom floor for eight hours that night, I was strangely comforted by the fact that 1.) no one was coming home any time soon, so there would be no ride to the ER this time and 2.) I let my American insurance lapse and my International (exclusive of the States) medical insurance wouldn't kick in until I crossed the border, some 250 miles away... (A Side Note: My COBRA benefits – mediocre coverage from Cigna that forces you to fight for every claim – costs me $650 per month, whereas my much more comprehensive International insurance is $180 for six months. But there's nothing wrong with the American health care system, nosiree...)
Anyway, I stopped throwing up, and 12 hours later I began sipping juice and eating jello. Within 24 hours I had lost 5 pounds (since regained) and wallowed in enough self-pity to last a lifetime. I never did pinpoint the culprit. One hopes there is not a new blockage, an occasional byproduct of the blockage-removal surgery.
Once I felt strong enough, I said goodbye to JibC the sharpei in Phoenix and hello to Abigail the needy dachshund in Tucson. Turned out to be a double-dogshit-day! My last walk with JibC, in the pre-sun morning, was the first and only time she actually took a crap whilst walking – she normally performs her doodie duties in the privacy of her own vast back yard. Given her short legs, she craps and walks at the same time, in order to stay just ahead of the steamy pile production. I was ready with a bag, but not just with a simple plastic bag: a specialty item made just for dog poo pickups: just open the flaps, fold it down, go over and under, scoop, turn, flip, double- fold, go over and under one more time, and voila! You have dog crap all over your hand. I'm sure glad they paid extra for these wonderful bags.
In Tucson I visited an old college friend, parent of Abagail the hot dog dog, and helped clear out a storage room that would be my sleeping quarters. At some point I picked up a dark rock and voila - a double-dogshit-day! I wondered if there was any cosmic significance to this event, whether I should run out and buy lottery tickets or something.
Anyway, in Tucson I went to the studio of an old flame, a woman I loved for many years, whose art and life has blossomed since we broke up. I remember thinking I should look up all my old girlfriends and see how their lives have improved since I got out of their lives...
Lastly, I visited my sister's partner's daughter, a pediatrician at the University of Arizona Hospital. I'm so proud of my quasi-niece. It takes a hell of a lot of dedication to go through the grind of becoming a doctor. I believe she's in her last phase of the doctor-training-dictatorship, a grueling series of 12 days in a row of 12-hour shifts. An incredibly f-ed up system, but true to the American ethos, it will never change.
So that's the last post from America. I'm actually in Guadalajara now, and my postings are running about a week behind. Only a week behind! Woo-hoo!
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