BABY BOOMERS AND EVERYONE: MY ROAD TRIP ACROSS THE U.S.A., POST NO. 9, REFLECTIONS: 10 TRIVIAL OBSERVATIONS AND 6 NOT-SO-TRIVIAL OPINIONS

Posted on May 18, 2012 by BoydLemon

10 Trivial Observations.

1. Summer heat comes earlier in the south.

2. There are way too many Native American Casinos in the southwest.

3. The most cautious drivers are in New Mexico.

4. The most aggressive truck drivers are in Alabama.

5.  You can find excellent food almost anywhere in America.

6. New Mexico makes passable wine.

7. El Paso has fantastic Mexican food.

8.  The best Rest Area is upon entering Alabama from Mississippi.

9.   The worst roads are in Jackson, Mississippi.

10. There are only two places in Texas worth visiting, San Antonio and Austin.

6 Not-So-Trivial Opinions

1.  The diversity in ethnicity, religion, economic condition and culture in  this country is so vast that the fact we have survived as a nation for more than 235 years is a miracle.

2. The south today may feel differently about minorities than the rest of the country, but it treats them no worse or better.

3. The middle and upper economic classes in the south live a better quality of life than their peers along the two coasts.

4. People who live in small towns and rural areas are friendlier, more relaxed and in many ways live a better quality of life than people who live in big cities.

5. People in the south take care of their own, so there are fewer homeless people than there are on the two coasts.

6. Despite all the chain restaurants, motels and stores across the country that tend to make all towns look the same, there is still a lot of cultural diversity in the U.S.A.

 

 

 

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BABY BOOMERS AND EVERYONE: MY ROAD TRIP ACROSS THE U.S.A, POST NO. 8: BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA AND SAVANNAH, GEORGIA

Posted on May 16, 2012 by BoydLemon

Birmingham, Alabama and Savannah, Georgia

I had been to Birmingham in the 1980′s on business and concluded there was no reason to go back, but in the early 2,000′s I read that the historic, downtown area of Birmingham had been refurbished and was quite nice, with busy upscale bars and restaurants and rehabilitated historic buildings.  So I decided to stop there for the night.

I drove to the downtown area and walked around, quickly becoming disappointed and disenchanted.  It was a Thursday evening around 7:00.  Virtually nobody was on the streets.  I did see what looked like an upscale bar called Steel and went in.  There was a live play in progress, although I couldn’t really get the gist of it because I had come in the middle of it, and I was having trouble understanding the heavy southern accents of the actors.  They and the few customers did seem to be having fun, while I sipped my Martini.

Martini

Martini (Photo credit: Mangilao30)

When the play was over, a band played blues that I enjoyed.  I got hungry, and this bar did not serve food.

A block or two further along I came to the Roguet Tavern, where I had a beer and a Caesar salad.

I walked around some more and concluded that Steel was probably the liveliest place in town.  I found a wine bar, but there was a sign on the front door that said the dress code was “dressy.”  I didn’t qualify.  I was astonished to see a wine bar with a dress code, but this was the south–still a little more old fashioned than the west and the northeast of the country.

When I left Birmingham and headed for Savannah, a seven hour drive, this baby boomer/senior was getting a little road weary and anxious to get to my final destination, my friend Walt’s home in St. Marys, Georgia.

About halfway between Birmingham and Atlanta I passed the famed Talladega Raceway, next to Daytona, the most famous NASCAR venue.  Although it is literally in the middle of nowhere, except for the small town of Talladega, it is only about an hour and a half drive from both Birmingham and Atlanta, a short drive for real NASCAR fans.

I had been to Savannah once before, not long ago, and the highlight to me is walking around the old neighborhoods of majestic antebellum homes that have been preserved beautifully.  Even the more modest homes of the era are an architectural delight.

Wayne-Gordon House (Savannah, Georgia) (cropped)

Wayne-Gordon House (Savannah, Georgia) (cropped) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

After a long walk through the neighborhoods I dined at one of the finer restaurants on my last evening of the trip, Noble Fare, where I enjoyed a fine glass of Riesling and Diver scallops with spinach and and a pecan sauce.

The next day the hour and a half drive from Savannah to St. Marys was dull and uneventful.  I was ready to settle in at my friend’s home and get off the road for a change.

In my final post I will discuss my reflections on the trip, some trivial knowledge I gained about the United States of American of 2012, and some not so trivial opinions I have come away with.

Below is a photograph I took of the view from my friend’s back door on a cloudy day in St. Marys.

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BABY BOOMERS AND EVERYONE: MY ROAD TRIP ACROSS THE U.S.A., POST NO. 7: JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI AND A SURPRISE VISIT TO ALEXANDRIA, LOUISIANA

Posted on May 14, 2012 by BoydLemon

Jackson, Mississippi and a Surprise Stop in Alexandria, Louisiana

The next morning I had to drive my car onto the ferry to get back to the mainland and on my way to Jackson, Mississippi, a seven-hour drive.  About half way through the drive, still in Texas, I ran into a Texas sized thunderstorm.  I remembered that the only other time I had been in Louisiana, except to visit New Orleans, I experienced what seemed to me the mother of all thunderstorms.  Interstate 10 (which I had started on in California the first day of my trip) was closed due to flooding, and I sat in traffic for over an hour as the lightening flashed, the thunder roared and the water cascaded like a waterfall coming down on my car.  They don’t make ‘em like this in Southern California.  We were diverted by the State Police to a different route to Jackson, but my GPS and I both took it in stride.

In case you don’t know, GPS devices are marvelous for road trips.  Of course, with a decent map you can find your way from city to city easily, but what about finding your hotel or a restaurant or site in a strange city?  Unless and until you have a map of that city, it is problematic, and even if you have a map, it isn’t always easy.  GPS devices are unbeatable for that purpose.  I know it saved this baby boomer/senior hours of being lost.

Because of the delay from the storm and the new route it was 5:00 pm by the time I reached Alexandria, Louisiana, still a long way to Jackson, so I stopped in Alexandria and spent the night.  Before going to bed I managed to find what is probably the best restaurant in town, Cajun Landing on MacArthur Drive.  I enjoyed the best etoufee I have ever had, even better than what I had in New Orleans if my taste bud memory can go back accurately for fifteen years. Etoufee is a classic Louisiana dish, Crawfish in a roux-based sauce seasoned with garlic, green onions, bell peppers, and spices and served over rice.  Otherwise, Alexandria is not an exciting place.

As I drove through the African American neighborhoods, they didn’t look much different from the way they were described in books I had read about them during the 1960′s.

I made it to Jackson the next day.  The highlight of the drive was in Vicksburg, Mississippi, where I stopped on the bluff overlooking the mighty and muddy Mississippi River. 

I could visualize the Confederate troops camped where I stood in what seemed a perfect, impenetrable defensive position on top of the bluff, while U.S. Grant’s Union troops were entrenched below for weeks trying to knock the Confederates off the bluff.  The three-week siege of Vicksburg ended in the Confederate surrender when they ran out of food and ammunition because the Union army had blocked their supply routes.

I took the back roads to Jackson, and the countryside was lush and beautiful, greens that reminded me of Ireland.  I stopped at the side of the road and ate the last of my food from the cooler, a tuna sandwich with pickles and olives.  Business and residences dotted the roadside, all with plenty of land––no need to push the buildings close together here in southern Mississippi.

The area surrounding Jackson was the same, although the city itself is not small.  The downtown area is old, some of it rundown, some picturesque.  The old City Hall, especially lit up at night, is a fine old building, built in 1847.  It was one of a few buildings that survived the destruction of the city by the Union Army.  Oddly, one of the finest of the newer buildings downtown is the International Museum of Muslim Cultures, dedicated to Islamic history and culture.

Taken in June of 2007 at the corner of Jackson...

Taken in June of 2007 at the corner of Jackson St. and 3rd St. in Downtown Alexandria. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I had another fine southern dinner at Parlor Market downtown, an upscale restaurant that was packed.  They had some unusual dishes, including rabbit meatballs and roasted bone marrow.  I had the sweet tea brined chicken and my first dessert of the trip, an incredible apple tart with buttermilk ice cream.

The next day I left for Birmingham, Alabama after I wrote for this blog, but before I left I had to have some southern fried chicken.  I went downtown again and ate at the restaurant that serves Jackson’s finest southern fried chicken, according to Yelp, Two Sisters’ Kitchen.  It was indeed finger lickin’ good.  The restaurant is in an old, large two story house with a huge front porch.  The food is served buffet style, and along with my chicken, I had some mashed potatoes with gravy and some damned good collard greens.

Having read and seen the movie, The Help, which takes place in Jackson, Mississippi.  I naturally observed what I could of the African Americans that I encountered.  Of course, they are no longer slaves, nor are they segregated from whites in public places and treated as less than human, as they were in 1962 when The Help took place.  What I did notice, though admittedly non-scientific, was that most of the low level jobs were held by African Americans, and I doubt that many hold high level jobs.  On the other hand, I couldn’t really tell if it was any different than it is in cities outside the south

Jackson still harbors some of the old South in the sense of a slower, more relaxed pace than the rest of the country.  The roads within the city were in bad shape.  It is clearly mostly a poor city with a few rich folks.  In that sense it hasn’t changed.  It appeared that, like Alexandria, Louisiana, the housing remains segregated as it was in the ’60′s.  Of course, that is true of the North to a large extent.  I wondered about the schools, so I drove slowly by what appeared to be a middle school.  The kids were playing outside.  I estimate they were about 80 percent African American and 20 percent white.  The white kids were together in one corner.  There didn’t seem to be any socializing between the races.  I recognize that this is one moment in time in one school, so we shouldn’t draw any conclusions or generalizations.  My observation only raises questions.

Leaving Jackson I drove by the small, rundown, densely situated, clapboard houses in the African American neighborhoods, looking no different from those described in The Help.  We have made social progress in the past 200 years, but it has come very slowly and with great difficulty and conflict.  Technological progress during the same period has come rapidly, changing the lives of most of us enormously and with comparatively little controversy.

I drove through the lush forest lands of Mississippi and Alabama on my way to Birmingham.  Endless healthy, green trees on either side of the highway.  The sun was out.  The sky was blue, hardly any clouds.  I felt a little slower myself after visiting Alexandria and Jackson.  At the border of Alabama I stopped at a huge, elaborate rest stop with a tourist center the size of a large hotel ball room.  It was almost a museum, with displays of Alabama’s rich natural resources and dozens of brochures.  A friendly lady behind the counter gave me an excellent, free map of the State.

 

 

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BABY BOOMERS AND EVERYONE: MY ROAD TRIP ACROSS THE U.S.A., POST NO. 6: SAN ANTONIO AND GALVESTON, TEXAS

Posted on May 11, 2012 by BoydLemon

San Antonio and Galveston

The drive to San Antonio through the rest of the Texas Hill Country was short (about an hour and a half) and pleasant.  My motel was within walking distance of the famed River Walk, which was San Antonio’s principle attraction for me.  I remembered seeing the Alamo 44 years ago and being quite unimpressed.  I didn’t think I would be any more impressed in 2012.

I had high expectations of the River Walk, and they were exceeded.  The River Walk has been developed over a period of more than 70 years, and taste and intelligence have prevailed.  Other cities that have commercialized walks along rivers that run through them have lined their rivers with cheap gift shops and fast and not-so-fast food chains that have cheapened what could have been pleasant walks.  Savannah, Georgia and Jacksonville, Florida come to mind.  The most famous river walk of them all in Paris is commercialized but Paris is Paris, and the walk along the Seine is still pleasant.  When I entered the San Antonio River Walk from Houston Street and turned north, I was stunned.  I was looking at flowers, plants, trees and a meandering river that showed few signs of a big city.  Even in the downtown portion the buildings are discretely hidden because the walk is at river level, one story below the downtown buildings, which are mostly hidden by trees and foliage.  I read on tasteful signs along the way that the walk totals 13 miles.  The only part of it that has been commercialized is at the famous bend in the river downtown, which is actually a three-sided rectangle.  There, for two stories, restaurants, both upscale and downscale, and shops are adjacent to the river and on the same level.  This commercial area was the only part of the walk that was crowded.  Small barges take tourists down the river who prefer not to walk.  Even they float quietly down the river and don’t disturb the peace of the walk.

After enjoying a long walk along the river, I rested with a cold drink and some dreadful guacamole and chips at a Mexican restaurant at the start of the river bend.  Rested, I walked around and looked in most of the shops, bars and restaurants around the bend.  Finally, it being cocktail hour, I stopped at Swig, a Martini Bar, had a Marini and watched I’ll Have Another One win the Kentucky Derby.  So, I had another one.  I had already staked out, Ostra.  I had looked in most of the restaurants.  This one had a great view of the river and specialized in seafood, which is what I wanted, since I was practically on the Gulf of Mexico.  The service was very attentive.  My oysters were good, but not remarkable.  I can say the same of the stripped bass.  As I now look at Yelp reviews, which I should have done before, I think I could have done better, perhaps, Bella, Biga or Las Canarias.  I did have a nice after dinner drink and listened to some good music at Howl at the Moon, which seemed one of the best bars along the river.

The next day I drove south to Galveston.  As I drove down U.S. 90, I realized that I hadn’t had any Texas Barbeque, so I kept an eye out.  Sure enough, passing through Flatonia I saw a sign for Joel’s Texas Barbeque.  I turned around and headed back.  See the photo below.  Doesn’t it look like where you would expect to find Texas Barbeque?  I had the sliced beef sandwich, and it was delicious.  There I did it.  I’d had a Margarita in Albuquerque, Mexican food in El Paso, a steak in Austin, seafood in San Antonio and now Barbeque in Flatonia.

Coming up:  Cajun food in Louisiana and fried chicken in Alabama.

The drive through the Texas coastal plains was pleasant––no spectacular scenery, but nice.  Galveston is an island city in the Gulf of Mexico, just a couple of miles off the mainland coast of Texas.  In Galveston, which lived up to its reputation for humidity, fortunately the temperature wasn’t too high, probably in the low 80’s.  I decided to stay for two days so that I could get caught up on writing for this blog.  I had fallen behind, and the drive from San Antonio was fairly long, so I didn’t arrive until late afternoon.  I wanted to have some time to enjoy the Gulf and its islands.

I was hungry so I spent a fair amount of time researching restaurants.  Of course, I had to have seafood, since I was right on the Gulf of Mexico, and there are a plethora of seafood restaurants in this resort town.  I settled on Black Pearl Oyster Bar and Grill, a few blocks from the Gulf, and I made a great choice.  I had a dozen Gulf oysters for $12, and they were delicious, not as briny or salty as the Canadian and Atlantic oysters I’m used to, but tasty nonetheless, and the price was less than half of what I’m used to.  I liked that.  I also had a good Caesar salad and jalapeño crab poppers.  I was full and vowed to go back the next evening for some gumbo and catfish.

The next day, after catching up on writing this blog, I headed for a walk down to the gulf.  The weather that day was grand, warm, and you could feel the dampness of the air, but not the sultry penetrating heat of the day before.  The rain that night had cooled the air.  A few people on this Tuesday afternoon lay on the beach; others swam or played in the water.  The Gulf is shallow.  People walked out for hundreds of yards, and the water was still only waste or chest high.  I walked down the beach for a mile or so and enjoyed the view of the gulf, the tiny waves (compared the to the Pacific) and the warm air with a slight breeze off the Gulf.  Returning to my starting point, I walked to the end of the pier where there was a multicolored hut that sold snacks and trinkets.  I bought a beer so I was allowed to go up top and sit at one of the benches, gazing at the view as Jimmy Buffet’s voice singing Margarita Ville wafted from the loudspeaker.  I was glad I stayed a second night.

Back at the Black Pearl Oyster I had my gumbo and catfish, and they were scrumptious, as I expected. These southerners know how to cook catfish.  Every time I have ordered it in California or cooked it myself, it was tough and rubbery, but not in Texas (and Louisiana, I was to discover).  Afterwards, I sat at the bar for a while and listened to the Texas accents all around me, much of the talk about football even though it is not football season.

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BABY BOOMERS AND EVERYONE: MY ROAD TRIP ACROSS THE U.S.A., POST NO. 5: AUSTIN, TEXAS

Posted on May 9, 2012 by BoydLemon

Austin: Not Really Texas?

As I approached Austin, except for the constant running of my air conditioner, the scenery could have been from northern California, not what one pictures as Texas.  It was hilly with tall trees and multiple shades of green.  Flowers of red, yellow and white adorned the green grasses.

Texas Hill Country North of Austin

It looked cool outside, but probably was 90 degrees and humid, which I confirmed when I got out of my car at the motel.  I stayed on the north side of the city about ten minutes from downtown and the University.

I decided to stay in Austin two nights, not only because it is an interesting city with lots to do, but I found that staying one night only leaves s short part of two days to see the sites of where you stay, and part of that time is taken up by maintenance things like getting gas, buying coffee (I won’t drink cheap motel coffee; I have some standards.) and food for lunches, packing and unpacking; and, in my case, writing.  I think for my next long road trip I will alternate staying one night and two nights.

I figured out how to get downtown, where the music was, parked for $8 and walked around until I couldn’t stand the heat anymore (at 7:00 pm in early May). I saw dozens of bars and restaurants, most advertising music.  You could listen to live music anytime from cocktail hour until the next morning.  I stopped in a restaurant that had good reviews on Yelp, Sullivan’s.  It is a steakhouse, and I wanted to sample Texas steak.  First, I sat at the bar and had a Hendricks Martini.  Austin was clearly up on premium alcohol.  The band came out and set up.  As they started to play, I realized that it was just a cover band with a very attractive female lead singer, like most cover bands.  You couldn’t hear the lyrics because the instrumental was too loud.  Between songs I walked up and told her that they needed more volume on the vocal.  She said she would have the leader take care of it, pointing to one of the band members tuning his guitar, but as nearly as I could tell nothing was done about it.   Perhaps they didn’t want us to hear her.

Like all steak houses, this one was dark, and I wondered what I would see if they turned the lights on.  The filet mignon was expensive and good, but not great.  My Caesar salad was mediocre.

After dinner I walked around some more, peering in various bars until I heard a male voice singing that sounded good.  I went in and was thoroughly entertained for an hour.  A young man named Tom Melancon and his band played what I would call thoughtful rock, and they were very good, in my opinion.  I would compare his music to Pearl Jam.  I bought a CD from a young brunette at a side table who smiled broadly in appreciation of my purchase, something new to listen to on the road.

Later at another bar (of an endless supply) I heard another young man playing guitar and singing solo.  This was a Friday night and downtown Austin was really happening, a lively scene of mostly, but definitely not all young people.

Austin Texas Lake Front

Austin Texas Lake Front (Photo credit: StuSeeger)

The next day I met my writing buddy Saundra for lunch at Fino near the University, and enjoyed the conversation, a gourmet olive and nut appetizer and delicious nicoise salad.  Afterward, I walked around the University of Texas campus, a beautiful, serene setting of trees, benches, buildings dating back to the Nineteenth Century up to modern times, as well as a mammoth football stadium.  It was extremely hot on this early May afternoon, and I stopped often to rest, usually in an air-conditioned building.  I had way too many clothes on compared to the students walking around.

After being led in the wrong direction by some well-meaning students, I found the Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library.  From my unscientific investigation, I concluded that three out of four University of Texas Students did not know where on their campus the Library of the Thirty-sixth President of the United States was located.  I only spent about a half hour in the Library.  After having toured the Libraries Presidents Kennedy and Reagan, LBJ’s seemed very sparse.  It had a replica of his oval office, a few photographs and gifts that had been given him by foreign leaders, some filmed events, and that was about all.  There was more about the First Lady, Lady Bird, than there was about him.  Having said that, I point out that there were half dozen floors of the library that contained archives that were not open to the public.  Also, when he was President from 1963 to 1969, videotape was not extensively used, while it was by the time Ronald Reagan was President.  Yet, the John F. Kennedy Library in Boston is much more impressive and has much more in the public areas than Johnson’s, despite the fact that Kennedy was President for less than three years.  I was saddened by the fact that President Johnson’s library was not more impressive.  Though he was vilified for the Viet Nam War (and rightfully so, in my opinion), he probably accomplished more as President than anyone since Franklin Roosevelt.

Portrait of President Lyndon B. Johnson Deutsc...

Portrait of President Lyndon B. Johnson Deutsch: Lyndon B. Johnson (* 1908) Italiano: Lyndon B. Johnson nel 1969 Nederlands: Lyndon B. Johnson (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Since I had decided not to visit New Orleans this trip, I had some good Cajun seafood at Gumbos downtown.  The gumbo was delicious.  I heard two more bands at University area bars that night and thoroughly enjoyed the music.  Austin is a fantastic, accessible city, different from the rest of Texas with some of the Texas flavor, and I look forward to my next visit.

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FRIENDS AND BABY BOOMERS: POST NO. 4 OF MY ROAD TRIP ACROSS THE U.S.A.: Texas Oil Country, Midland and Odessa

Posted on May 7, 2012 by BoydLemon

Texas Oil Country: Midland and Odessa

After driving most of the day from Albuquerque to Odessa and Midland, Texas Oil Country, with a wonderful stop for a Mexican lunch in El Paso, I knew I had a problem when I stopped at an Odessa Motel 6 and saw a sign near the front desk that the rates were $93 a night (compared to the usual Motel 6 rate around $50).  The problem was clarified when the clerk replied “no” to my question of whether they had any rooms available.  I stopped at another motel in Odessa and three in Midland 20 miles up Interstate 20.  None had a vacancy.  It was about 8:00 pm, and my situation was pretty well summed up by the last desk clerk when I asked if she knew of any motels that had a vacancy, “No, we’re all pretty much in the same boat.”

Midland, TX montage

Midland, TX montage (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I normally made reservations on the Internet for a motel room the night before or morning of my anticipated arrival.  I neglected that practice that day because I was not sure whether I wanted to stay in Odessa or Midland, and I thought that there could be no problem getting a room in that part of the country on a Wednesday night.  It is not exactly a tourist Mecca.

I was right about the lack of tourism.  What I didn’t realize was that the oil country is going through a boom in the boom to bust cycle that it has been going through since the discovery of oil there in the early Twentieth Century.  With the increase in the price of oil, once again oil is being drilled for, pumped, refined and delivered from these old oil fields, and the place is booming.  I saw “hiring” on the walls of numerous industrial buildings.  As I looked around there were oil pumps and drilling rigs everywhere.  A lot of traffic zoomed down Interstate 20, as well as the surface streets, but there were hardly any ordinary cars, like mine.  Everyone drove pickup trucks and SUVs, and, of course, there were a lot of commercial trucks on the roads, even at night.  I drove around both cities briefly, and there seemed to be nothing around that was not related to oil and its supporting industries.  The cities looked like one big industrial and heavy equipment yard, mile after mile of big, dirty machinery, factory buildings and metal stuff I couldn’t even identify.  The industrial accoutrements were interrupted in the center of each city by strings of fast food restaurants and cheap motels.  The land was flat and dusty.  As a whole, the scene was so ugly that it was almost beautiful.

One of the reasons I wanted to experience Odessa, besides seeing what an oil town looked like, was its fame from the 2004 book , movie and later TV series, “Friday Night Lights,” about the community’s dramatic, but troubling obsession with high school football.  I had read the book a few years ago and was shocked and saddened by the story about the subculture of this part of the country and its implications.  I found Odessa High School, the subject of the story, and it looked like, well, a high school.

I decided I had better turn my attention to the problem of the unavailability of motel rooms if I wanted to avoid spending the night in my car.  I remembered another town 40 or 50 miles back that I thought, but wasn’t sure, had motels (also places to eat).  If my memory was correct, maybe it was far enough away from oil country to have vacant motel rooms.  So, I backtracked for about 50 miles until I was almost out of gas.  I heaved a small sigh when I saw the Interstate Highway signs for motels.  Would there be a vacancy?

I stopped at a gas station, got gas and asked the clerk in the convenience store where the motels in town were.  She said they were all down the main street on the left hand side, except for one that was on the right.  “But I wouldn’t recommend that one,” she said with a frown.

I drove to each of the three motels on the left.  Each desk clerk informed me that there were no vacancies.  Not having a choice, I drove to the one on the right, the Texas Inn.  The outside looked okay; the lobby looked fine.  A nice lady in a sari behind the counter informed me that they had vacancies.  I took it, of course, and with some trepidation, carried my luggage up to the room.  It was clean, large and quite adequate.  There was nothing wrong with this motel or the room.  The reason for the negativity and the vacancies here became clear.  The motel was owned, or at least managed, by Indians, foreigners, not welcome in this part of the Loan Star State.  I was saddened by that bit of bigotry, but glad that I didn’t have to sleep in my car.

The next morning, with the name of the town that provided a bed for me firmly implanted in my brain, Monahans, Texas,  I headed for what I thought would be a more pleasant part of Texas––Austin.  As I drove through small town after small town toward Austin, the scenery changed from flat and dusty to hilly and green.  How pleasant!  I stopped at a roadside picnic area, made myself a sandwich from my cooler and looked forward to Austin, the music city.

 

 

 

 

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FRIENDS AND BABY BOOMERS: POST NO. 3 OF MY ROAD TRIP ACROSS THE U.S.A., the Last of New Mexico and the First of Texas

Posted on May 5, 2012 by BoydLemon

The Last of New Mexico and the First of Texas

 

Alamogordo is famous for the White Sands Missile Range, where during the Cold War we tested and stored the anti-ballistic missiles that carried the hydrogen bombs intended to wipe the Soviet Union off the face of this earth, if it appeared “necessary” to do so. Adjacent to the Missile Range is Hollaman Air Force Base, home of the Stealth Bomber and the F33. I decided to drop by for a visit––Alamogordo, that is, not the Base or the Missile Range. I don’t think I would have been welcome there.

The drive to Alamogordo, about 200 miles to the southeast of Albuquerque, was through desolate, unimpressive scenery. Gone were the rich red, orange and pink mountains and rocks between Gallup and Albuquerque, the high mesas (which my GPS lady pronounces messas) and towering mountain ranges. There were mountain ranges to the east and west, but they seemed far away and uninteresting. About half way there I stopped at one of the roadside picnic areas that New Mexico provides, basically picnic benches, shade and bathrooms. Before I made my turkey and avocado sandwich from the ingredients in my cooler, a man with flowing dark hair and a bright, friendly smile walked up to me, handed me a crude wooden cross made of two uneven pieces of wooden glued together and said, “Jesus loves you.” Oh boy, I thought. We exchanged introductions and chatted. He was a baby boomer and told me about his trip to Napa.  I was a little reticent at first. I thought I was going to get a lecture about how to save my soul, but he never mentioned Jesus again. It was quite a pleasant conversation out in the middle of nowhere. I later noticed that he gave crosses to each person as they drove up and got out of their cars. He was still there when I finished my lunch and drove on.

The most interesting scenery during this drive was the Valley of Fires. For miles I saw rugged, uneven black rock that was obviously lava, but there was no evidence of a volcano anywhere. At the visitors center I learned that the most recent lava flow there was about 1,500 years ago, and it is the largest and most recent non-volcanic lava flow in the United States. The lava just seeped up out of the ground. (I think “seeped” is the past tense of “seep”.) I chatted with a man way too old be be a baby boomer (even older than I am, so I have the right to call him an old man) who was the volunteer nature guide at the visitor’s center. He told me more than I really wanted to know about Valley of Fires. He said that he was born and lived his entire life in the little town of Carrizozo a few miles down the road. Later when I drove through Carrizozo I was amazed that anybody would spend his whole life there. There was literally nothing there but a gas station, convenience store, post office and a few dozen houses, probably a bar, though I didn’t notice one.

The White Sands Missile Range and adjacent Holman Air Base cover an enormous area surrounding Alamogordo. I saw signs for it at least 30 miles north of the town. It felt rather spooky. I didn’t want to get too close. I didn’t see any Stealth Bombers or fighter jets in the air, just lots of helicopters.  I looked up Holman Air Force Base on Wikipedia, and no articles appeared.  Hmm.

Two non-scenic conditions dominate a drive through New Mexico: casinos owned by various Native American tribes (though all of New Mexico still seems to call them Indians) and billboards. As I approached Alamogordo, the billboards advertised Pistachio Nuts and claimed that this area had the largest Pistachio grove in the United States. I didn’t resist stopping at their store, which also boasted that it provided wine tasting, and if you spent $10.00 in the store, you got a free bag of Pistachio Nuts. So I went wine tasting in southern New Mexico. The wine was mostly awful, but for $12.00 I bought a bottle of dessert wine that was passable and got my free bag of nuts. The store offered many kinds of purportedly gourmet foods, such as jam, candies, pickles, olives, etc., as well as clothing with the Pistachio logos. The amazing thing was the variety of flavored Pistachio nuts—garlic, green chili, red chili, chocolate, cinnamon, habanero pepper, mint, rosemary, and many others that I no longer recall. I took advantage of their Pistachio tasting too. Out in front of the store was this giant Pistachio.After checking into the motel and going through my email, I went to dinner at the only appealing restaurant in town, the Pepper Grill, which wasn’t bad. I had a Caesar Salad and fresh red trout with steamed vegetables.

Downtown Alamogordo, New Mexico.

Downtown Alamogordo, New Mexico. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The next day, last Wednesday, was going to be a long day. I wanted to stop in El Paso for Mexican food for lunch and drive all the way to Odessa or Midland of oil field fame. Map Quest informed me that without any stops the drive would be about seven hours, by far my longest drive yet.

I looked up Mexican restaurants in El Paso on Yelp. The most highly acclaimed one was Avila’s, which had been there for three generations. I hit the road and made it through uninspiring countryside to Avila’s about 1:00. The food matched its billing. I had Gorditas with rice and beans. Gorditas, for those of you unfamiliar, are similar to soft tacos, but are made from thick tortillas that are split and stuffed with goodies, in this case, spicy beef, chicken and cheese. Their salsa, which I used liberally on the Gorditas, was fresh, hot and tasty. It was some of the best Mexican food I have had the pleasure to enjoy, and I come from Southern California and have traveled extensively in Mexico. Although I have only this one example, El Paso Mexican food seems to be spicier than most California Mexican food, or, for that matter, even the food in Mexico.

About 2:00 I was back on the road toward Midland and Odessa, where I was to have an adventure I would have preferred to avoid. I tell you about it in my next post Monday.

 

 

 

 

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Friends and Baby Boomers: My Road Trip Across the U.S.A., Post 2

Posted on May 2, 2012 by BoydLemon

Winslow, Arizona; Sedona, Arizona; Gallup, New Mexico; and Albuquerque, New Mexico.

I left Las Vegas last Saturday morning, destination, Sedona, Arizona, red rock country.  This was a longer drive (about 5 hours if I hadn’t stopped) than I intend to take most days, but there isn’t much to see in southeastern Nevada and western Arizona.  I was amazed at how Las Vegas seemed to go on forever out U.S. Highway 93, but eventually the shopping malls, fast food restaurants and housing developments drifted behind me, and all I could see were dark brown mountains in the distance and the dry foliage of desert nearby.

I saw a sign for old Route 66, the famed road that Jack Kerouac and many Americans took across the United States in the 1940’s and 50’s.  I exited onto Route 66 in Seligman, Arizona, which claimed to be the “Birthplace of Route 66.”  In downtown Seligman, which consisted of a handful of ancient stores and houses, and a few depressing looking motels, the worst of which I noted with a smile was called the Romney.  I spotted the Road Kill Café, which I had heard about, but wasn’t sure really existed.  I wanted to stop for a beer in their saloon, but since it was 10 in the morning, and I had a long way to drive I thought better of it.  I took a photo instead. 

I wanted to take Route 66 to Flagstaff, but, alas, I discovered there and further on that you cannot take Route 66 across the country anymore.  Since the advent of the Interstates 50 or so years ago, Route 66 has not been maintained all the way, and it stops and starts with long gaps in between the parts you can still drive on.

I stopped in Winslow, Arizona (“What a fine sight to see.”), which didn’t look much different from the way it looked the last time I saw it, 1983, or in 1968, for that matter.  Like the Eagles in their famous song, I stood on a corner and took this photo.  Then I had an early Saturday dinner of roast beef, succotash and mashed potatoes, topped off with apple pie at the Falcon Café, which I do not recommend, unless you are really into nostalgia.  It did bring back memories of my mother’s Sunday dinners and those of many other mothers in the 1940’s and 50’s.

Back on Interstate 40 the desert went on and on until finally, as I approached Flagstaff, the scenery changed to beautiful, serene mountains, all green and fresh and nice.  The air turned from hot and duty to cool, still dry, but fragrant with pine.  I got off the Interstate and drove through one of the small mountain towns.  I don’t remember the name, but I was struck with how many Americans live in these small towns in the middle of nowhere.  This realization was to come back to me again later as I drove through New Mexico.  I was tempted to stop for the day in Flagstaff, but I soldiered on.  I was trying to get to Sedona and meet my friend, Jan, not to mention the beauty of the red rock country.

Eventually, I got off Interstate 40 and on the road to Sedona.  Soon, the gorgeous red rocks of every shape and size and the red dirt appeared all around me—spectacular, like something out of a fantasy movie. 

I stopped at the Visitor Center, read some of the history, then drove around in a cute little village called the Village at Oak Creek—very upscale, touristy.  I parked and looked around, found that the only reasonably priced hotel in town was full and drove on.  Soon I realized that most hotels were going to be expensive in this area, and, like many baby boomers and seniors,  I do not like to spend my money on expensive hotels.  So I decided to find another town off Interstate 40.  I did just a few miles down the highway––Camp Verde, a beautiful little town surrounded by green hills and green trees, looking very much like Spring.  I found my inexpensive motel, had a pretty good pizza at a pizza joint a block away and went to bed early.

On Sunday morning I wrote my first blog post, drove up to Sedona and met my friend Jan at a lovely little café called Joe’s.  We caught up with each other’s adventures before I moved on.  I drove up Highway 89A through Oak Creek Canyon, one of the most scenic drives I have ever taken, definitely worth going out of your way to see.  Deep, rugged canyons of every colored rock you can imagine, including some of the red that permeates Sedona below, were surrounded by mountains covered with multiple shades of green pine and other trees I couldn’t name.  This was Indian country, and their art was everywhere.  There was even a turnoff with their arts and crafts on display in front of a beautiful vista of the canyon.  I stopped and gawked at both, a heady experience of both natural and man made beauty.

I determined my next stop would be Gallup, New Mexico.  I thought about Santa Fe and even Taos, but I have been to both many times for writing retreats, and decided to pass this time.  I had never been to Gallup, and the Internet showed an intriguing hotel called El Rancho Hotel for $75 a night.  The old Hotel, built in 1937, was home for many movie stars while some of the old westerns were being filmed in the area, including Ronald Regan, John Wayne, Gene Autry and others.  There was an ample local supply of Indians for the movies.  The Gallup area has one of the largest Indian populations in the country.

As I drove along toward Gallup, back on Interstate 40, I was aghast at the number of Casinos in northern Arizona and New Mexico is.  I don’t think I drove more than 20 miles without encountering another.  I had the uneasy feeling that most of their customers in this poor area of the country are the local residents who cannot afford to lose their money gambling, but that is a complex issue outside of the purview of this blog.  I couldn’t help but think about it though.

Gallup is not a destination I would go out of my way to visit, but I had to stop somewhere.  The town had a depressing air about it.  It certainly did not lack for fast food chains.  I snacked because there was nowhere appealing to eat dinner.  The aromas coming from the restaurant in the El Rancho Hotel did not encourage me.  The hotel lived up to its booking though.  The lobby was a perfect example of the era and the location, a huge expanse of old rugged, wooden furniture that looked like it had been there since 1937, a huge fireplace, a circular staircase that led up to the rooms and colors that were all dark.  It even had a shoeshine stand.  The other positive thing I can say about Gallup is that the countryside is beautiful, the multiple shades of red, orange and pink mountains and mesas that surround it are among the best scenery that this beautiful State has to offer.

The next day I drove on to Albuquerque.  I stayed at an inexpensive but clean and well kept motel, part of a chain called Red Roof near Old Town, which is worth visiting if you happen to be in Albuquerque, though, I wouldn’t make Albuquerque a destination.  If you are already passing thorough or stopping for the night, as I was, Old Town seemed to be the only place worth a visit.  It had plenty of Indian and Mexican art, though much of it was not high quality.  The area reminded me of Olvera Street in Los Angeles, a conglomeration of shops that existed only for tourists.  I did find an excellent place to eat and drink, The High Noon Saloon.  It was full of customers early on a Monday evening.  The Margaritas were wonderful (made with real lime juice and a choice of several premium tequilas), and bar food that exceeded the usual, half price during happy hour.  I had an excellent Caesar Salad and a dish called Apulian Meatballs, tasty, spiced meat and a spicy red sauce that left me wanting more.  I met a friendly woman at the bar, who showed great interest in one of my books, something that always perks me up.

Next stop: Alamogordo, New Mexico.  Then on to El Paso and Midland, maybe.

 

 

 

 

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Friends and Baby Boomers: My Road Trip Across the U.S.A.: Post No. 1

Posted on April 30, 2012 by BoydLemon

Hey, Baby Boomers and Friends: My Road Trip Across the United States, Post No. 1

On April 25th I drove my Honda Civic from my former home in Ventura, California, and as I pulled onto the 101 Freeway at Chestnut Avenue for the final time, I felt a profound sense of freedom.  I only drove for 45 minutes and spent the first night at my daughter Julie’s house in Simi Valley.  After my semi-annual dental appointment the next day I headed east, destination my friend Walt’s home in St. Marys on the southeast coast of Georgia, so I literally will cross the country.  My plan is to arrive in 16 days on May 12th.  I have no itinerary.  I’ll decide where to stop on the morning that I leave where I am, except that my next stop was my younger daughter Marsha’s home in Yucca Valley, California, about a three-hour drive.  I plan to write posts on this blog about my experiences and observations as I travel.

Yucca Valley is of interest for only two reasons.  It is adjacent to Joshua Tree National Park, and it has one of the best sushi bars anywhere—yes, sushi in the desert––even stranger, it is located in a Travel Lodge Motel.  If you’re a sushi lover as I am you know that sushi near the beach does not come from its seaside location.  With few exceptions the restaurants receive it frozen from some distant locale, so logically there is no reason that a desert community could not have a good sushi bar.  It is just counter intuitive, as many truths are.  Please take my word for it and try it.  You won’t be disappointed.  If you don’t believe me, look it up on Yelp, http://yelp.com.  It is located at 54850 29 Palms Highway (Highway 62) in the high desert (more temperate) about 45 minutes north of Palm Springs.  Since the portions are generous, I was full on a seaweed salad, a Yellowtail roll and two orders of sushi.  Sit at the bar if seats are available.  The chefs are friendly and funny.

San Bernardino Suburb: Yucca Valley-Joshua Tree

San Bernardino Suburb: Yucca Valley-Joshua Tree (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The next morning I drove down Highway 62 to the West Entrance of Joshua Tree National Park.  If you’re 62 or older for $10 you can buy a Gold Pass that gets you in all National Parks and Monuments free and substantial discounts on overnight camping.  I used mine and drove through the Park in about two hours, stopping frequently at lookouts to soak up the scenery.  What you see is unique to this rugged land, the gnarled yucca trees of strange, often artistic shapes, as if they were designed by an artist (perhaps they were); enormous rocks in formations that defy reality and stimulate the imagination, making it one of the great rock climbing sites in the world; vistas of desert pastels and brown and purple mountains rising in the distance; and in the Spring every color of desert flower.

Rock formation in Joshua Tree National Park.Th...

Rock formation in Joshua Tree National Park.The rocks that look as balls are called giant marbles. Français : Formation rocheuse dans le Parc national de Joshua Tree. Les roches qui ressemblent a des balles sont appelées "Giant marbles" billes de géant (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I left the Park and headed toward Las Vegas, a leisurely four-hour drive with a stop for lunch at another strange place, Kelso Depot.  The drive through the heart of the Mojave Desert (I was glad it was April, not July) brought a change from the pastel shades of the terrain and mountains of Joshua Tree to darker shades of browns in the distant mountains and smaller foliage on the flat expanse of the beige desert floor.  A startling scene as I drove along the nearly deserted highway was the Kelso Dunes, huge rolling sand dunes for miles that seemed close to the highway, but were miles away, the desert providing few clues to distances.

I lunched at the café at the Kelso Depot, a former train depot that during World War Two employed hundreds to help shepherd millions of tons of war materials from the factories of the west coast to be shipped to Europe from the east coast.  A nearby grade was too steep for the train’s steam powered engines to pull their loads over the grade.  The Kelso Depot provided helper engines to join the pull.  After the War, the advent of diesel engines with greater horsepower eliminated the need for helper engines, and eventually, the Depot was closed.  It was slated for demolition during the 1980’s, but the local citizenry managed to save it, and it now stands as a historic monument, museum and café for travelers across the desert.

The Kelso Depot, Restaurant and Employees Hote...

The Kelso Depot, Restaurant and Employees Hotel with original palm trees in Kelso, now the Visitor Center of the Mojave National Preserve, in the Mojave Desert park of Southern California. Taken 12/26/04 by Pretzelpaws with a Canon 10D camera. Cropped 1/9/05 using the Gimp. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I don’t gamble, but I stopped in Las Vegas because it was convenient, and I enjoy the water show, the indoor gardens, art exhibits and cuisine at Bellagio.   The spectacular, free water show is one of the world’s best.  The indoor garden, free, was ablaze with color and as always took my breath away.  The art exhibit of impressionist paintings thrilled me and was $15.00, $12.00 with the senior discount.

I always try to travel economically, especially when it comes to hotels.  I discovered the Las Vegas Hilton, one block off the strip on Paradise Boulevard.  It is convenient to all strip attractions because it is a stop on the monorail that goes up and down the strip for $5.00 a ride.  I booked it through http://hotels.com for $78.  It offers most of the same amenities that the more expensive hotels offer, but is not quite as glamorous, fancy or expensive.

That night, after visiting the attractions at Bellagio, I splurged for dinner at their Circo Restaurant.  I sat at the bar, ate oysters, sea scallops and other delicacies and chatted with the bartenders, a treat on my solitary journey.   A beautiful young woman by herself sat next to me.  Cynically, I thought she was a prostitute, but after she left, the bartender told me she was hired by Bellagio to promote business in their restaurants.  Apparently, she just sits where potential customers can see her.  Beauty of all kinds attracts.

The next morning I headed out Interstate 40 for Sedona, Arizona, which I will tell you about on Post No. 2.

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NO. 14 OF OUR 20 MOST POPULAR POSTS:10 TIPS ON TRAVELING ECONOMICALLY: for Baby Boomers, Seniors and All Travelers

Posted on April 26, 2012 by BoydLemon

10 Tips on Traveling Economically

Whether you are a baby boomer, senior or youth, it doesn’t have to be expensive to travel, if your demands are modest.  You can travel on a budget that isn’t that much greater than your budget for living at home (unless you never do anything at home but sit around and watch TV, but then if that is your shtick, you probably aren’t interested in traveling anyway).  My next three blog posts will give you tips on how to travel economically.

  1. Visit places or cities that are not trendy. For example, in Europe go to Warsaw, Krakow, Budapest, Seville, Santiago de Compostela, Lisbon, and countries like Slovania and Croatia (lovely and perfectly safe now).  In Sarajevo you can stay in a 3 star hotel for $30-40 a night, and I stayed in a nice hotel centrally located in Santiago de Compostela for $50 a night, plus $6.50 for an excellent and filling breakfast; you can eat there for $6-12 per meal if you seek out the inexpensive, little places.  I stayed in a new, very clean hostel in Lisbon for 20 Euros per night.  If you’re visiting Paris or London or the like, you can’t get prices like this.  It will cost you at least double for equivalent meals and places to stay.
  2. In the United States stay away from the biggest expensive cities if you don’t want to pay the big bucks–I mean New York, Boston, Chicago, New Orleans, Miami, San Francisco, Los Angeles.  If you must visit those cities, try staying and eating dinner in nearby suburbs and taking public transportation to visit the sites.  For example, stay in Queens or Brooklyn, not Manhattan.  But think about Baltimore, Cleveland, Indianapolis, Portland (Oregon or Maine), Providence, San Antonio, Austin, Norfolk, Ventura (see my post reviewing Ventura, California).
  3. When considering how to get there, do your research.  Often it is a lot cheaper to go by train or bus instead of flying, sometimes not.
  4. If you’re going somewhere that cruise ships visit, consider a cruise, especially if you live near a port they sail from.  The world is oversupplied with cruises these days, and sometimes you can get a deal that is cheaper than a hotel and meals, especially if you take a repositioning cruise during the shoulder seasons, when the cruise ships are repositioning their cruises from Europe to the Caribbean in November, or visa versa in May.
  5. Stay in hostels that have free breakfasts, and eat as much as you can.
  6. Most hostels are safe and clean these days.  They are not the hostels of the ’60’s and ’70’s, nor noisy places where twenty-somethings party all night.  Do your research; check out the reviews, especially those of older people who have stayed there.  If you can handle it, stay in a multi-person room, sometimes referred to as a dormitory.  They usually run around $20 a night, and they give you a locker for your stuff.  You meet some fun people that way.  If you can’t handle that, most hostels have private rooms for around $40 a night, some with in suite bathrooms, some not.
  7. Some budget motels (like Motel 6 or Budget) are not bad, but some are.  Check the reviews, and ask to see the room before you check in, which is a good idea anywhere.
  8. Save your main meal for dinner, and don’t have two big meals; but do eat the local specialties; that’s part of enjoying the local culture.
  9. Better yet, find a hostel or inexpensive hotel with an available kitchen and prepare some of your own meals; it is always less expensive that way, and you can buy local foods to cook, looking up recipes on the internet.  You can make saving money fun.  And there’s no reason why you men can’t pitch in and help with the cooking, so that if you’re traveling with your wife or female travel partner, she doesn’t have to do all the work.  If you don’t you’ll hear about it anyway, and rightfully so.
  10. If you drink alcoholic beverages, it is much cheaper to buy in a market or liquor store, and have your beer, wine or cocktail in your room or on the hostel’s patio or in their common room.  Usually hostels have common rooms that guests gather in.  You’ll probably make new friends too.
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