Roadtrip part 3: Arriving in Arizona and a touch of Texas

Two days after I was supposed to leave California, I finally did. Having said that, can you blame me? Leaving the Golden State behind, with her beautiful sunsets, relaxed people (especially in San Diego!) and mindblowing palm trees. No, it wasn't easy. When I was finally back in the Greyhound, I couldn't help playing one of John Hiatt's best songs. Not ''Have a Little Faith in Me'' no, but ''Adios to California''.  ''Adios to California/Nothing to do but turn around/I always thought there's someone coming for you/Only way you'd leave this town''. Listen to this song, especially for the lyrics. Goddamn beautiful.

                           

                            

Anyway, enough music to listen to, during those 12 (or 14, hard to recall after so many Greyhound trips) hours to Arizona. I'd booked a night ride, and I've found out that I'm not the best sleeper in a bus. So sleeping I didn't do, but in the end, the ride was pretty fast. We made several stops, I read a book or two and before I knew it, we'd arrived in Phoenix. ''What's happening in Phoenix?'' many people in San Diego had asked me. ''I have absolutely no idea'', I'd answered. The main reason I'd planned a stop there, was that my ride from California to Texas would take ages. Better to explore another city in between, I thought. And another thing I was looking forward to, was my stay with the Wells family.

                             

For those of you who follow my page Humans on the Road on Facebook - if not, do so NOW - I've recently featured a short story on the Wells family. The Wells family consists of Jeff, Kate and their two daughters Phoebe and Tessa. Five years ago, Jeff and Kate took leaves from their jobs, sold their car, rented their house and got ready to travel the world. Not just the two of them, but Phoebe and Tessa as well. They were gone for over a year and visited 22 countries: from India to China and from Morocco to Australia. When I came across Kate on Couchsurfing, all I thought was: I have to stay here! Why? Because they did not just travel the world with children, they did almost everything through Couchsurfing. How cool is that?? 

                                         

So on Monday morning I arrived in Phoenix and went straight to the Wells' house - which is stunningly beautiful. A pool in the garden, a white interior and a supersonic kitchen. I didn't go in yet, though, since Kate and Jeff were working and Phoebe was at school. So I dropped my stuff in the garden and got ready to explore Phoenix. Kate had emailed me some recommendations, something I'm very thankful for! I first went to her favourite coffee spot, ordered the biggest coffee there was (if I was to survive the day without any sleep, caffeine was necessary, very necessary) and asked the hipster waiters for advices. They wrote down at least six record stores, a few thrift stores and places to see music. 

                           

                       

                             

With the little note in my pocket, I went to explore the city. My first stop was still one of Kate's recommendations: the Phoenix Art Museum. Currently, they were showing a Frida Kahlo exhibition and since I am - together with almost every single young person in the world - a huge fan of her work, I had to see it. It turned out, there was more to the Phoenix Art Museum than just Frida Kahlo. The fixed collection was devoted to the Native Americans that used to live in Arizona. I'd already learned a lot about the Native Americans in my American History class, but this was the first time I could see their influence with my own eyes. 

                            

                            

If you enter Arizona, you are blown away by the artificialness of the city. At least, I was. It's basically a city that's thrown down in a desert area. Kinda like Vegas, but less outrageous, which made it even more surreal to me, in a way. There are rocks everywhere - big rocks - and cactuses and other desert plants. Everything has a dark red colour, and then there there are some buildings randomly placed on a bit of land. The collection showed in a very profound way how the Native Americans were treated, how their faith has changed and how they are abandoned to reservations. Heartbreaking. 

                           

                                         

After about an hour, I was up for a more positive story. Frida Kahlo's isn't necessarily, of course, but her art is definitely inspiring. This exhibition wasn't really about her art, though, it was more about her personal life. Interesting too! I saw many photos of her family, her parents, Diego Riviera and all her other lovers. Frida Kahlo was such a free spirit. A second exhibition was about her favourite things, such as her favourite meals, jewellery and clothing. Definitely an educational and culturally engaging morning!

Next up was a walk around the artsy area of Phoenix, which is in the district Roosevelt Row. I hadn't expected Phoenix to be so cool, there were record stores, art galleries and thrift shops everywhere, so I had no problem spending an afternoon there. Typically enough it was raining that afternoon, which is extremely odd, since it supposedly only rains 10 days a year in Arizona. Damn, it has rained at least twice as much in the Netherlands ever since I got back. Dear Dutch readers, imagine living in a place like Arizona...

Anyways, that night I stayed at the Wells family's place and we talked about travelling, couchsurfing and all the plans we had for the future. I've never met a 15-year-old girl as ambitious and world-wise as Phoebe. That's why I honestly think all parents should consider going on a big trip with their children. It makes them more open minded, flexible and, in Phoebe and Emma's case, learn a lot about the position of women in the world and the impact we, as human beings, have on the environment.

The next day I thought my bus was supposed to leave at 10 am, but it turned out to be 10 pm. My parents once made that same mistake, but that time it concerned flight tickets to Portugal, so I was happy my mistake was only minor. Another day to spend in Phoenix! I went to a cool art exhibition and walked around some more, but I soon realized spending two days on your own is more boring than I thought, and Phoenix was not the most exciting place on my trip. I did enjoy a great meal at the Wells' house again, after which Kate made me an amazing lunch package (so sweet!) for the next day, that included granola bars, fruit, nuts and even a package with powder to make chocolate milk.

I definitely needed that survival kit, since my bus ride to San Antonio lasted 22 (22!) hours. I had had such a long bus ride - six hours longer actually - before, but that time Lavi was sitting next to me, which meant more entertainment. This time, I was on my own, and surrounded by crazy Greyhound people. It was a very exhausting ride, but I was excited to finally enter Texas. Texas, the state I thought I'd never experience, because for me, Texas meant Bush, guns and ignorant people. I was told Austin was one of the coolest city in the States, though, with a lively music scene. Besides, I was eager to see another side of America, since I'd been to so many liberal cities (San Francisco on top) already, and I wanted to know what the country side would look like.

The country side in Texas is pretty boring, I can tell you. We were driving for ages, until I finally saw some houses. It's all kinda flat and the western rodeo's I expected to see, were nowhere to be found. When I arrived in San Antonio, there was just a bit more life. I have no idea why I decided to spend a night in San Antonio, but I guess it sounded exotic. So I'd arranged to stay at a young couple, who had done a huge motorcycle trip through South-America. The guy, Justin, picked me up in a cool Cadillac, which he drove because he was a sales agent at Cadillac. Could it get more American? :) Lana, his wife, was a yoga teacher, who was teaching a lesson when I got to their place. We made a veggie pizza afterwards, I took a shower and slept like a lil' baby that night.

The next morning I took a walk along the Riverside, which is magnificent, I strolled around in the Mexican style old town and enjoyed the super hot sun on my face. The shop owners were excited to meet a solo traveller - a girl even! - from Europe and all wished me the best in Texas. These people definitely had never left their state. I was surprised by their kindness, but realized later on, that it probably had lots to do with the fact that I was a young, white girl. If I'd looked any different... Well, I guess I shouldn't have too many prejudices, since not all people from Texas vote Trump. Something I was to find out the same evening in Austin... To be continued!

Roadtrip part 2: Welcome to Tijuana - tequila, sexo y marijuana

One of the main reasons I'd chosen to go to Southern California was pretty obvious - don't they say it never rains in Southern California? Well, I know that's not true, but fact is that the sun shines a bit longer, a bit intenser and this makes the people relaxed, easy going and goddamn goodlooking. As if they're kissed by the sun. So yeah, after L.A., which was sunny but kinda unpersonal, I was looking forward to go to San Diego. And to the bus ride, since this one would only last 2,5 hours, so much better than the previous ones and the ones to come. On the other hand, it was Greyhound so you never know what to expect.

                            

                                                     

In the end, it indeed took the driver almost 4 hours to get to San Diego, but I didn't really mind. I was in the complete south of the States now, after all! My host had asked me if I was up for fish tacos and the answer was clear: hell yeah I was! I have to give it to him: he was right in saying that this restaurant served the best tacos in town. Of course I only tried about 3 of them - and many in San Francisco - but that's enough. After the tacos we walked around in Ocean Beach - OB for the locals and I always like to consider myself a local after a day or two - to the end of the pier and around the streets. It was pretty chilly for San Diego, but we warmed up with wines, that costed 5 dollars. 5 dollars! I couldn't believe my ears when the bar tender told me this. It was gonna be a good stay!

                                          

                              

My host in San Diego was only gonna host me for one night, since I'd booked a hostel during New Year's Eve. I love Couchsurfing more than you can imagine, but I wanted to be sure that I was gonna be surrounded by lots and lots of people during NYE. It was adventurous enough to have no idea who I was gonna spend New Year's with, so I could at least make sure I'd spend it in a hostel with more internationals and more people looking to party. My host was super cool though, he was crazy about OB, had travelled a lot himself in Europe and was kind enough to drive me around and take me to all the ''must-see's'' in San Diego, like Balboa Park, the sea lions (I still can't understand why people have to take that many pictures when all they do is waddle around and look disgusting - guilty as charged myself as well though) and a beautiful view at Sunset Cliffs. 

                             

                              

The next day I was headed to the hostel, which had a very promising name: the Adventure hostel. This can be either extremely lame or super amazing. It turned out to be... Indeed, the most amazing hostel I've ever been to. And I've visited a lot of them. Paprika hostel in Budapest is a good competitor, but considering the fact that Adventure hostel offered free dinners, I must say this one goes home with the award. It took me a few days to realize that the free dinners were included in the prize, but even when that realization finally came, I thought it was still pretty cool. As you might know, I don't like cooking that much and I also don't like to spend lots of money. This was a fine alternative.

                             

                              

                                          

It's hard to say what else made the ITH Adventure Hostel such an awesome place. It was mostly the atmosphere, probably, the nice backyard and the people of course. For those of you who have travelled solo before, you've probably experienced the same thing: it's so, so easy to get into contact if you're alone. Not just because people start talking to you more easily, also because you yourself are more willing to make friends. And that wasn't hard in San Diego. When I arrived, everyone thought I was together with an Italian guy, because apparently we looked like a cool rock couple. Why? I was wearing a hat, a kimono and probably looked kinda hoboish as always, and he was wearing a leather jacket, black pants and his hair was bigggg. A few minutes later, we told the other people that ''no, we have never met before either''. Almost everyone seemed to be travelling alone in that hostel. So after the first days I was gathered by a bunch of very cool people that were up for anything. 

                                           

                                 

The first night I checked out North Beach quickly, a hipster part of town. I met up with a Canadian guy I'd briefly talked to in my dorm and his two local friends. We went to a fancy wine bar first and dancing afterwards. Finally! Not just dancing, but dancing to good old 90s R&B and hiphop. The public was interesting, but the music was gooooood. 

                                        

Starting the day of New Year's Eve (so weird that English doesn't have a word for this day, in Dutch we just say Old Year's Day) with a hangover might not be the best idea ever, but well, I managed to get a lot done anyway. Walked around at Gaslamp Quarter, went to Balboa Park with my Couchsurfing host and his new surfer from Wisconsin and called my parents and brother at 3 pm to wish them a Happy New Year already. Mine still had to start and it started with a grand buffet at the hostel. The idea was to eat and drink at the hostel and maybe check out the fireworks at the harbor later. Of course, I did not make it to the harbor, I didn't see any fireworks either but I had one of the best New Year's Eve's ever. Just because it was so spontaneous and unplanned. The guests at the hostel at that time were great: a girl from South-Korea, an older lady from the east of the States, a brother and sister from Australia who could talk Afrikaans and many more.

                                   

At 2 am I wanted to grab something from my room, but it turned out that wasn't so easy. My entire room was filled with people who were all looking to a woman sitting at the end of my bed. My bed, yes. I'd met the woman earlier that day already and she didn't come across as very bright. She was 43 and wanted to escape her family during the holidays. Alright, her choice. But the way she looked, the position of her eyes, it all seemed as if she'd used something. When I saw her sitting at the end of my bed I knew for sure she had. She was peeing over my entire blanket! All I could do was laugh, and say ''What the fuck'' perhaps five times. That night, I didn't sleep in that bed anymore, as you will understand. I felt a bit sorry for the volunteer that had to clean it, but well, it was not gonna be me. What a way to start the year!

                              

                              

The next day was a better way to start the year, luckily. The guys that volunteered at the hostel could get into the rooftop of our neighbor's for free and they were not the worst neighbors: the DoubleTree Hilton hotel! So all I did on New Year's day was lie in the jacuzzi, swim around in the pool a bit and make sure that my face was turned to the sun. Because it was so warm! I could think of worse ways to beat my hangover. 

                             

That night we started drinking again, though, because after all, it was vacation, it was warm and it was San Diego. But before we could open the wine bottles, we had a bit of an adventure. Since Americans do everything with their car, it wasn't weird that we were gonna make the 1 mile ride to Grocery Outlet by car. As we were driving there, a bus driver wasn't paying attention and hit us from the side. Thank god, our driver from San Bernardino could escape to the left and no one was hurt. The guy in the front had seen his life flashing by before his eyes though. I had no idea what was happening, because it all went so fast. The car had a few scratches, but that was it. 

                              

Because we hadn't had enough adventures those days, me and three guys decided to go to Black's Beach at 2 in the morning. Black's Beach is a deserted piece of beach and it took us at least 20 minutes to walk down. The rocks were not that stable, it was ice cold but I was wearing three blankets that covered my head like a burka. I was happy to be surrounded by 3 guys, because they took care of the bonfire and eventually we were all warm. One of them went skinnydipping, and most of the time I'm in for such a thing too, but this was just too cold. We went back to the hostel around 4.30 and my bus to Phoenix was supposed to leave at 7.30. I gave myself an hour of sleep but as we all know, it's better not to sleep at all than to sleep for one hour. Because of course, I slept through my alarm clock and I woke up at 7.30. Shit, damn, motherfucker. 

                                               

At first, I was very, very annoyed by myself, since the bus ticket had costed 80 dollars and now I had two days less in Phoenix. After a talk with my German roommate, I decided faith had decided this. Now I could join the hostel to Tijuana! Mexico! 

                                              

I'd almost given up on the idea of going to Mexico, because most Americans I'd asked for advice told me: skip Tijuana. It's a drughole, it's dangerous and it's not like real Mexico. Furthermore, I'd heard that it's super hard to enter the States again. The story sounds complicated, but is actually quite simple: my visa had expired the 23th of December, but that didn't mean I had to leave the US straightaway, I was given a month grace period to stay in the States. If I was to leave the US, however, I had to buy an ESTA (a tourist visa) in order to be allowed back in again. This only costed me 14 dollars, so I didn't worry about it and I included my plane tickets in my wallet, as proof that I was gonna leave the US in two weeks anyway. 

                              

I do like some danger, so I decided to ignore the advice (sorry guys) and take the risk of being rejected at the border. Tijuana it was. Around 3 pm we took the bus from the center of San Diego to the border of Mexico, which only costed us half an hour. There we were! The oh so notorious border of Mexico. Hundreds of cars were waiting to enter the States, but to leave the States, you could just walk through. First, we went for tacos, which were way cheaper than in California, and of course margarita's and tequila's. The rest of the night consisted mostly of dancing to Spanish music and drinking tequila's. That's all I have to say about that :) Around 12 am, me and three others went back to the border to catch the last bus, and of course this proved to be as tricky as expected.

                                           

The other three could just walk through, since their visas were still legal. My ESTA was too, of course, but apparently I missed some sort of stamp, so the immigration officer directed me 500 meters back and asked me to speak to another officer. You've got to understand, there's no one laughing at such an office. Everyone is looking like something terrible is about to happen. Moreover, I was extremely tired (luckily not drunk or anything!) and things like customs or checks always scare me to death. Even though I have an European passport, you never know what they might accuse you of, right? Anyway, I had to pay another 6 dollars, answer many questions and finally, I was allowed back in. 

                                          

Meanwhile, my friends had had no idea if I was even gonna join them, since the officer had told them he ''didn't know where I went, or when I was gonna get back''. Classy, dude. But well, I was safe in San Diego. A few of the other hostel guys weren't, though. They had stayed behind in Tijuana, somehow upset some Mexicans and gotten into a fight. The next morning they returned to the hostel, without any sleep but with a typical Tijuana story to tell. Maybe the Americans had been right, Tijuana was sketchy. We'd seen no American tourists at all, lots of poverty and macho Mexicans. Whatever, I was glad I joined. It might not be the authentical Mexico, but at least I can compare it to other Mexican cities in the future. I definitely wasn't upset about the oversleeping anymore.

                              

Roadtrip part 1: Coming into Los Angeles

The Mamas and Papas expected to feel safe and warm in L.A., the Red Hot Chili Peppers' Anthony Kiedis sang how sometimes he felt like his only friend was the City of Angels and Tupac, who wasn't even born on the West Coast, rapped how L.A. was the place to be - ''you've got to be there to know it, what everybody wanna see''. If you look at all the lyrics that are written about this famous city, you'd think it's pretty clear: L.A. is goddamn cool. After all, it's where all the stars live, it's where streets are called Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood Boulevard and Melrose Avenue, and it's where areas as Compton and Beverly Hills are based.

Interestingly enough, though, everyone I'd met so far, both in San Francisco as on my travels, told me: ''You're not gonna like L.A.''. In California, it seems you're either an LA or an SF person - it's impossible to be both. So I was expected to be the latter, since SF is smaller, has better public transportation and less shallow people. It might sound dorky, but these are all things I find extremely important when it comes to cities. Especially the public transportation. I heard that L.A. is no fun if you don't have a car. Since I was on my own and - more importantly -  not able to drive, I expected to see just the (touristic) highlights of L.A., since it would take me around 2 hours to come from destination A to B. Luckily, my great love for Couchsurfing rescued everything.

In case you didn't know my plan for this 3-week trip: after Christmas, I was to leave for L.A. and travel down South, maybe spend a day in Mexico, and continue my journey to Phoenix, Austin and New Orléans. How was I gonna pay for this, considering the fact I'd also been to Vegas, Yosemite, Sequoia, Portland, Seattle and Vancouver (and had paid rent in crazy expensive San Francisco above all)? Well, I was gonna travel by Greyhound. Yes, the bus that only the bottom 30% of the Americans use. I've actually started to like the Greyhound, though, for the fact that you'll never get bored on a station and there are no crying babies sitting next to you (whenever I'm on a plane, there's ALWAYS one either in front, next or behind me). But more about the Greyhound in my next posts, cause I have plenty of stories to tell! Anyway, Greyhound is comparatively cheap, especially since I have a student advantage card. Another reason I could travel cheaply, was that I was gonna couchsurf at most places. As you'll probably know already, Couchsurfing is a site where hosts share their houses and so you can have free accommodation.

I can be pretty organized sometimes - and other times not at all, as my friends and family know - so I arranged the places to stay days in advance. I was gonna stay with a guy who worked in the film industry, which I was really looking forward to. A day before I was supposed to leave, however, he sent me a message saying his parents gave him tickets to NY for Christmas and so he wasn't gonna be able to host me anymore. A damn fine gift, now that I think about it, but at that moment all I could think was: fuck your tickets, fuck Christmas gifts, fuck NY (fuck your parents might've flashed through my mind, but that goes a bit too far, doesn't it?). So, for a moment, I was slightly stressed, but fortunately Julio told me he could host me for three nights. Julio turned out to be awesome with a capital A.

Julio, originally from El Salvador, but living in L.A. for more than 25 years already, picked me up from the Greyhound station in his big truck. He lived in Frogtown, which is L.A.'s Hottest New Neighborhood according to LA Weekly. Julio took me to a cool Mexican place for tacos and afterwards, we bought a bottle of liquor. I have to say I've been pretty lucky with my hosts - we all shared a profound love of alcohol. I can't guarantee you that your host is gonna welcome you with wine when you use Couchsurfing, but in my case, it happened a few times! Lucky me. That night, we went to a Mexican bar, where a band performed Morrissey songs in Spanish. Mexicans really dig Morrissey, my host told me. And I could understand why, his songs in Spanish were very good.

The day after, Julio, who works with homeless people on Skid Row, didn't have to work. So he was able to bring me to Venice Beach. Since it was sunny, it was the perfect decision. Moreover, Venice Beach was high on my list, because it's where my favorite band practiced their first songs. The Doors! Second thing we did was take a couple of shots with me and my hero, who had his own mural. Because the first thing we did was eat pizza for breakfast. When in America... But no, this was special pizza, namely: a salad slice. It was honestly the best I've ever eaten (Home Slice Pizza in Austin included!) and all the pretty people in their sport outfits turned their heads when they walked passed me. It must've been the avocado, don't you think?

Afterwards, we went for a bike ride to Santa Monica and talked about everything. Turned out we got along very well! Since I want to keep my hosts as anonymous as I can, I won't reveal any personal stories, but Julio surely lived and lives an interesting life. Inspiring guy for sure! After the ride, we drank a beer and met a woman with the same kind of eyebrows as me, whose name I keep forgetting. But she was very cool and inspiring. Good story, yes. We went to see the sunset at a rooftop and that's when I thought: L.A. is not that bad at all!

It made a huge difference that my host drove me around a lot. I used public transportation only once. Therefore, I was able to see and do a lot. On Monday morning, we drove to the Hollywood sign, which was high up in the hills. Cool to see, but in the end, it's just a sign. You're not allowed to climb up there - I know, super cool if we'd done so, but my host had to go to work. So I had breakfast at the beginning of the Walk of Fame, photographed some stars (the ones on the ground, unfortunately) and continued my way to Melrose Avenue and Sunset Boulevard. Both streets were not that special. Sunset Boulevard was actually extremely boring.

The thing about L.A. is that you don't meet anyone on the streets, since everyone is in their car or in their houses. When I was 10 years younger and when my dream was becoming an actress, this place would've been heaven to me. Honestly, I wanted to be in the movies so bad, dreamed about Hollywood, becoming friends with Lindsay Lohan, the Olsen Twins and Hilary Duff, and marrying Orlando Bloom or Chad Michael Murray. I still dream about marrying Johnny Depp, come to think of it, but that's another story.

Anyway, after this boring walk I went to Universal Studios, which was cooler than I expected. We could ride in a cute little bus and walk around the touristic shops. Sometimes you just gotta do those things. In the evening, me and my host ate Thai food and watched ''The Soloist'', which was filmed right around the corner of my host's place. The next day I stayed close to the Greyhound station, since I didn't want to pay for public transportation, it was gonna take hours anyway and my sense of direction is extremely - yes, extremely - bad. I know, I had to survive for three more weeks on my own in the States, but L.A. just didn't feel like the right place to practice this ability. As Kerouac wrote in ''On the Road'' (which I read in the Greyhound): ''LA is the loneliest and most brutal of American cities; NY gets god-awful cold in the winter but there's a feeling of wacky comradeship somewhere in some streets. LA is a jungle''.

Conclusion? Were the people right in their expectation of me not liking LA? Well, the thing is... If you expect to dislike a city so bad, it can only turn out good. I had a great time with my host, he even gave me a little souvenir of a pirate duck, which kept me company on my entire trip. I was also very lucky that he could drive me around, I loved the constant sun in L.A., the beaches and the Mexican influences. True, L.A. is nothing like SF. Not as authentic, intellectual, architecturally interesting, personal and alive (in my opinion). But at least I was able to say that for myself now. I could never live - or die - in L.A. But staying there for three days was not that bad. Not that bad at all.