What is up with this town? I just have to ask myself that.
And now, I guess I’m asking you. Not that I expect you to be able to answer that, if you’ve never been here to this little jewel of the Nile.
OK. It’s not the Nile, it is the Rio Grande. And this gem looks more like a lump of coal than a diamond in the rough. But unless something changes – which may happen very soon – that coal might become a diamond before this town ever grows up.
We’ve seen many places in the U.S. where human habitats are completely at odds with the environment. In places like Florida, builders continue battling nature, despite all of the evidence that this is a bad idea. Living there is a constant struggle between the land, the animals, and the humans, and as a result, few things about the place feel natural. There is complete and total disharmony with the environment.
But here in the harsh lands of New Mexico, humans seem to do a better job of working with their surroundings. From the ancient style of adobe buildings that naturally insulate homes, to suburbanites doing xeriscape conversions, people seem to be more willing to work with nature.
In the past, whenever I visited L.A., I’d have a hard time adjusting to the frantic pace, smoggy air and traffic. As much as I like seeing my family, I hated how stressful the city made me. But my visit was different this time. Our sabbatical has changed my attitude toward visiting places that I find undesirable, which makes life a lot more enjoyable. As Jim likes to say, “it is what it is,” and I accept that can’t change that. So this time while visiting the region, I decided to try to see more of the positive things about L.A, and find beautiful things about it, like nature.
Driving around Los Angeles, I can’t help but wonder what archaeologists of the distant future would make of the cryptic tags of today’s graffiti artists.
And I have always snickered inside at all the modern day scholars writing dissertations on the meaning of ancient petroglyphs which may in fact just be the scribblings of prehistoric taggers.
I’ll be honest; other than the chance to see my family for the first time in almost a year, I wasn’t looking forward to returning to L.A. I grew up here, in Whittier, about 18 miles from downtown, and I just can’t stand this place. My family stays in L.A. because they love the diversity and opportunities that a huge city offers. I split when I was 22, opting for cleaner air, walkability and the small town vibe of San Francisco instead.
My parents grew up in East Los Angeles, in the 1940s and ’50s, as children of hard working Mexican immigrants who came to the U.S. for a better life. Mom and Dad grew up poor, but they share many fond memories of their neighborhood on the edge of downtown, before they moved to the suburbs where they would ensure my four sisters and I had an easier life than they did.
My Dad still has friends out there, and last week, Jim and I got what Dad called “The Two Dollar Tour” of my parent’s old stomping grounds. Looking at it with fresh eyes, I saw that East L.A. isn’t all so bad; there’s lots of thriving small businesses, it’s colorful, and I have to say, the food there is damn good — the best Mexican food we’ve had anywhere in the U.S.
When you’re camped out in the middle of a wild desolate landscape, without a cell signal and a silence so deafening that its roar squeezes your brain like a vise, it’s tempting to believe that you’ve fallen off the radar. You look around for miles and see nothing but desert landscape, imagining that there are no rules, laws or entities that have power over you.
Let’s go to Luckenbach Texas with Waylon and Willie and the boys
This successful life we’re livin’ got us feuding
Like the Hatfield and McCoys
Between Hank Williams pain songs, Newberry’s train songs
And blue eyes cryin’ in the rain, out in Luckenbach Texas
Ain’t nobody feelin’ no pain …
Traveling down the East Coast and into Florida, we found it best to stay on the Interstates, which was a switch. We hate interstates, preferring the Blue Highways and backroads of America instead. But once we left Florida, it was like the skies and the roads opened up simultaneously, and we could breathe again. The backroads were once again our domain.
We moved past New Orleans, to check out Acadiana, the Cajun area of Louisiana. Thanks to the suggestion of fellow RVers on RV.net, we traveled along down rural Highway 82 from Lafayette to Texas, along a scenic route through farming territory and wildlife reserves.
We traveled through small towns like Abbeville, saw the effects of Hurrican Rita, and ended up spending the night at one of our fine Passport America campgrounds, Audobon Acres. The campground is just four RV sites with full hookups, on property owned by Joe Tessier, a native of the area whose Cajun family has resided there for generations.
We’ve been hearing a lot of good music lately. So much that I’ve added a new Musicamericana Video Playlist featuring samplings of the local music scenes we’ve soaked up along our way.
But I promised Sonja I would post this movie from our dinner at Artz Rib House in Austin where they hooked up with us for some good food and good fun.
One of the best parts about going on the road is having your eyes opened up to the realities that exist beyond your own little corner of the world. So when it came to New Orleans, it was one thing for me to hear secondhand reports about the state of affairs in the city from the comforts of my home. But to walk through the rubble that remains, to talk to those who are trying to piece their community back together, was another thing altogether. This is why we travel.
What is up with this town? I just have to ask myself that.
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