Hag off the Road

After about six weeks of couch-sleeping, city-wandering, beauty-seeking, eye-opening, and soul-searching, I've come to the end of my road. Back to that pretty little valley in the center of the state: Ellensburg, WA. But this is not the end of the journey. The journey never ends. Your life is a roadtrip, and change is inevitable. That being said, one of the best ways to embrace the uncertainty is to take a trip yourself. Go.

You can approach the journey in two ways. If you keep your eyes fixed on the road and worry too much about your destination, you're gonna miss all the good stuff: city parks, quirky holes in the wall, etc. But there's another way to do it, without a set agenda. And in this freedom is infinite possibility. Pull off to the side for a while. Don't hold your pee for too long. Stretch your back out. Climb a tree. Eat something weird. Sniff a flower in someone's garden.

Here are some final statements and reflections on my trip. Things that I've learned and relearned in the past weeks. Perhaps I'm growing up; things that I used to think were cheese-ball are again sincere; the cliche is no longer boring but rather holds an inherent heaviness of human experience. Here's ten:

1. Befriend a Canadian.
   You won't be disappointed.

2. Don't be sorry. Be silly.
    It's more fun. In essence, don't worry about the little things. Forgive yourself. Laugh at yourself. Be a   fool. Crack a joke. Let it fail. Don't act so tough, asshole.

3. Talk to strangers.
   I know this is the opposite of what you've been told as a youngling. Get over it. Once you're past the 20 seconds of awkward, then you're golden. Boom. You've got a new friend. You can learn infinite new things. Eat where the locals eat, do what they do. When in Rome, right? Afraid to talk to strangers? Try step #4.
 
4. Face your fears.
    Do something you haven't done before, but mostly, something that makes your heart beat a little        faster. Risk that slap on the wrist, let go of your tightly-clenched fist, cease to exist in the the fear that usually persists. When you confront your fears, you confront yourself. This is your ticket to self-confidence, and increased happiness. If you're worrying about anything at all, you're not thinking about how awesome it is to be alive.

5. Be outside. Every day.
    Run, hike, walk, bike. You know the drill. E'rybody know dat. It makes you feel better, clears your mind. When was the last time you saw the sunrise? You want to remember who you are? Feel the Earth spin around, cognizant of the fact that we're on a giant, planetary spaceship of life, hurling through the unknown universe. That'll wake you up. Go outside.

6. Remember who you were as an 8 year old.
    Whoever you were before you were aware of the tangled and often cruel social web. Before you started worrying about who said what, who likes who, yada yada. You had more time for pure play and passion-seeking enjoyment. You didn't give two shits what other people were thinking about you. For example, at age 8, I was into rocks, ninja shit, Animorphs, Super Nintendo, and Star Wars. I'm trying to live with that same heart again, the same wonder for the world. Become childlike, and in doing so you become vulnerable to the possibilities of the universe.

7. Use your entire brain.
    The left brain is logical, calculated, structured. It helps you know when you should fill up your tank and how much you should tip the barista. But if you're all left brain, it means that you're creating a structured PLAN (Pessimistically Lame And Nervous). Plan loosely. Make a date with a friend. Don't run out of gas. Know what bus you need to catch. Make a reservation at a restaurant. Then, let your feet wander as your right brain takes over. Act impulsively. Follow an interesting street. Buy flowers, give them to a stranger. Live in the moment. Experience beauty fully. Take a nap in a park if you feel so compelled. If both sides of your brain are employed, you are operating as your full self.

8. Friends and Family are key.
   You want happiness? Here it is. All you have is your experience, and it's better to share it with others in a loving way. Friends come and go, yes. That's okay. People drift apart. Sometimes, they drift back together. Be a fierce friend to the ones that you're with. Be loyal. Don't talk shit. Encourage your friends. Lift them up. Your kindness will return to you.
    Family is special, because these are people that you did not choose to be friends with. Rather, you are bound by fate. These people will always be your family, and if you're there for them, they'll be there for you.

9. Breathe Deeply.
   This is the most simple trick for diffusing the bomb of chaos in your life. Find your quiet center. This one's powerful: inhale slowly and deeply, hold for ten seconds, and exhale slowly. Feel the stress leave your shoulders and jaw, then reevaluate the situation.

10. The Zero Point Energy Revolution is Upon Us.
    Haters gonna hate, but all will soon be apparent. The largest technological innovation in human history will soon be widespread across the planet, changing our relationship with the Earth, our relationships with each other, and our understanding of ourselves. These are Zero Point Energy machines, devices capable of extracting energy from the void of space, the source of all energy. If you want details, I can set you up.

Merry Crimbus everyone, and thanks for following Hag on the Road.

Peace,

Taylor

Salem Grey

The drive from San Francisco through the oaks and mountain to the Oregon countryside was rather beautiful. Mt. Shasta is magnetic, majestic. After a long day of driving (10:30 to 9:00 or so, with many stops), I reached Salem, OR.

I don't know much about Salem, but it's where my sister has been living for over half a year with her fiance, Patrick. I didn't get a chance to visit them on the way down, so I made Oregon's capital city my final destination of the road trip adventure. I believe that names are important and its strange that this city shares a moniker with the Salem of colonial Massachusetts, famous for witch hunting trails. The town, to me, had a darker feel than most--imagine that it's Halloween in the film Hocus Pocus...but all year long. Now, I don't mean this in a bad way. In fact, I thought Salem was pretty cool, especially the downtown shops and restaurants. Willamette University brings an East Coast feel into the town, a strange brew when mixed with the state employees, rural farming folks, and quirky townies. I also noticed that the people in Salem tend to have darker features, and darker, curlier hair. Just sayin'.  It's interesting.

Hanging out with my Sister and my future Big Brother in Law (big BIL) was a blast. We got to explore the downtown, watch some live music at Boon's Treasury, a Mcmenamin's spot, and hang out at a place called Brown's Town. But more importantly, we did our best to hibernate in their cozy apartment, and eat delicious meals from chef Patrick. (Ever had Egg Nog French Toast? Try it. Tis the season). Here's an arugula pizza:

All in all, a five star review.

Saint Francis

When I was a sophomore at PLU, I was able to spend a month in Italy, primarily Rome. On a weekend trip, I took a train to the mountain town of Assisi, which was one of my favorite Italian towns for various reasons. For example: It was blanketed in a thick fog, the people were friendly, old Italian women sipped cappuccinos in the caffes, the street were twisted, cobbled, and winding like those of Minas Tirith (Lord of the Rings reference), there was a huge protest for peace (this was four years ago when Israel was bombing the shit out of Gaza), and mainly, Assisi is the home of the Mystic wanderer and animal-lover, St. Francis. This is a man who made poverty cool again (think Jesus, Buddha, Ghandi, etc).

Around the time of the American Revolution, the Spanish took their reverence for the saintly man to a foggy little bay in the New World, establishing the mission of San Francisco de Asis. Since then, the city has seen waves of treasure seekers, banksters, hippies, fishermen, Asian immigrants, hella Italians, vagabonds, gay rights activists, rock'n'rollers, cultural pioneers, software developers, and Hagbos. What do you get when you have this cultural smoothie poured over a landscape of Full House-style architecture, European vehicles (and drivers), amazing city parks, constantly-changing weather, and behemoth bridges? Answer: San Francisco, CA.

After getting lost in the city for a second time, which included a zany drive through Chinatown (yes, it was as cartoonish as you're imagining), I arrived a my friend Claire's house. In the morning, when she went to work, I took off for another solo city-touring day. I found a sweet spot in the park, where I pressed the "Good Day Button," which was written on a tree in the hidden grotto that I came across while looking for mushrooms (yes, it was as cartoonish as you're imagining). And a good day it was.

Here's some stuff that I did: Wandered through steeply-trailed Buena Vista park to get a good look at the city. Walked up Haight Street. Took a bus downtown and checked out the people. Met with Claire and her friend Katie at a bar for trivia night, which turned out to be Bingo with crazy-enunciation Santa. ****** * **** in the ****. Went to a place called Mad Dog in the Fog. Got a futuristic cab ride home from SideCar, which was summoned with a smart phone, showed the profile of  the driver coming to get us, and gave Katie a $10 discount. Cha.....................Ching. Welcome to the future.

Here's a poem I wrote about the city:

Lady Grey, a rainy day
I watched the morning fade away
A lady rowed across the bay
and floated toward the milky way

Lady Fate, the Golden State
I hold onto the Golden Gate
I'm not surprised to find it late
as rain and roses rise on Haight

Lady Grey, a later date
and Lady patience has to wait
I'm drifting towards the Interstate
With people who can still relate

Vacancy at Mousecar Motel

I need to take a minute to mention a traveling companion that has been traveling with me for most of my journey. The trip would not have been the same without him, but he's still managed to miss every single photograph, blog post, or documentation of his existence at all. My traveling buddy is a mouse (deceased, 12/2/12). He's a little history:

My car is a 1994 Honda Accord. This was the year of Donkey Kong Country, Forest Gump, The Lion King. Your kids thought they were Jim Carey (not Drew Carey). Bob Saget was way too involved in your life. Our national sense of humor was more getting hit in the balls and less Gangnam Style. And "What is the Internet, exactly?" (At around 1:00 a guy steps in to help 'em out). It was a good year, to say the least, and this car is a great car.

I don't know who owned the car before my sister got it from a used car dealership when I was just a freshman in high school; It could have been a poet, a prince, pit orchestra musician, parrot-tamer, popsicle salesman, poop-scooper,  or perhaps a pedestrian-plowing pirate. Whoever it was rode for 100,000 miles in the ol' She-Wizard before the Hagbo clan could claim it as their own. And now, she's my beast of burden, as it were. But what's up with all the pee?

I'm asking the same question.

For some reason, this car has been home to generations of mice. I think they've tagged it like the Hobos of the Great Depression: "Food here,""Good Place to Sleep," "Policeman's house," "etc." But instead of scratches on a post, this is piss in my trunk. It's an olfactory signal, drawing in the likes of Fievel and his mouseparents, from Russia, across the United States, and into my Honda. Though I've managed to catch a few in traps, they always come back.

And so, even though my 94 Accord has the strength of Blind Melon, The Beastie Boys, and Rugrats, it cannot content with the powerful stench of mouse urine. The mice are not welcome anymore.

One mouse, who died today, has been with me on the road for almost a month. Every once in a while, he leaves tiny, foul tasting chocolates on my seat, what I assume he leaves as payment for his rent. He chews things up. He's simply a bad choice for a tenant.

Still, I'm kind of sad to see him go.

L.A. Traffic Maze, Life in the Desert

Entering the Desert

For this trip, I've only had San Luis Obispo as a final destination. I didn't know where I would head next, maybe back up the coast, maybe up through Arizona/Utah, or maybe further into the heartland of the U.S.. In an interesting turn of events, my route was directed to Palm Desert, CA, where I have been many times in my life for family vacations with my Mom's side of the family. My grandparents have owned a condo here since the late-80s, and all of my cousins and aunts and uncles would come stay at the Shadow Mountain Resort for many a Spring Break. What can I say, but I'm a lucky guy, and family is key. My mom decided to come meet me down here as she recovers from her surgery.

Palm Desert,  a rare place where you can find a club car on the street.  The demographic here is wealthy old white people and immigrant Mexican workers. Disparity much? Landscape and weather is wonderful.

I'm finding that my trip is more and more becoming a journey into my past. I've traveled through all the towns that I've lived in, and visited many of the buildings and houses that have been important to me. I've been able to reconnect with Holden, college, high school, and childhood friends and numerous family members. The trip has been a soul-searching one, even if it's not what I intended. Or is it? Why does one travel? Are we really just looking for something? Perhaps a part of yourself is still not satisfied, and searches, like Johnny Appleseed across the old West, for true love and the essence of being.

Today, I was nearly overcome with emotion by the sight of a sunset. I was watching two giraffes rub noses (we were at the zoo) and asking my mom about how your mind changes when you become a parent. The thought of all of these things combined was too beautiful for my human mind to bear. If a sunset cannot make you cry, what are you? Make yourself vulnerable to the universe.

I've heard it said a million times that Family and Friends are the key to happiness, but only now is it really making sense to me. I know it sounds cliche, but basic human experience can never get old. Love is eternally made new by our ceaselessly creating universe. Friends and Family will always be of upmost importance to human happiness. To all my family: I love you. To all my friends: I love you too. Anyone who is not family or friend: Come on, it's more fun.

That said, I want to address the strange phenomena of driving through L.A.. Now, the automobile has only been around for a hundred years, and we've grown up without thinking twice about going 80 mph in five lanes of oil-propelled-metal, passing a city of Earthbound Stars. Well, I gave it a second thought, and couldn't help but consider Holden Village, and how this was such a profoundly different experience than driving the golf-cart down main street.

Here are some photos from The Living Desert, a zoo about two miles from where I'm staying:

Digitally altered a bit, but I think they're some of the best shots I've ever taken.

The Beach

My cousin Dylan and I have been hanging out at the beaches for the last couple of days. Yesterday we went to Pismo beach and today we hit up Morro Bay. Both of these beaches had little touristy beach towns to accompany. Towns like these have similar shops: Restaurants that serve fish and chips and chowder, stores that sell dolphin tee-shirts and keychains that say 'Morro Bay,' and immense candy dispensaries.

We tried to surf at both beaches. The beaches are so beautiful that it's hard to remember if you're awake.

 We had some gnarly fish Tacos

Danksgiving with Dylan, San Luis Obispo

Old Haggy reached the 'final destination' of his trip on the day before Thanksgiving, and rejoiced upon seeing his cousin Dylan. There's nothing like family at Thanksgiving. The two spent the evening walking around Cal Poly campus before lounging around back at the house. Recovery time.

In the morning, the old friends hiked Bishop's Peak, providing a good view of the city, and a glimpse of the ocean.

After a quick trip to Albertsons to stock up on supplies, Taylor and Dylan set out on an hours-long quest to cook up a delicious Danksgiving meal. It was dank. Mission accomplished.

East of Eden, South of San Francisco

I haven't updated for a few days, but a lot has happened since I left Arcata. I wrote this a couple days ago:

A brief reflection on life on the road, the homogenization of American culture, and the great gift of the internet.

I spent yesterday following the black ribbon through some of the largest trees on the planet. I learned how to drive like a Californian. I passed through both the trunk of the Chandelier Tree, an enormous structure of nature, and the Golden Gate Bridge, a gigantic structure of man. I felt the fury of the ocean. I sat in rush hour traffic in the suburbs. I got lost in San Francisco. Is this what it means to be an American?

The drive down highway 101 was exhilarating, and I often found myself hollering like a cowboy ("Yeeehaaaww!") as I sped through the torrential downpour towards SF. I was really lucky to stay with my friend Emily, who I met at Holden. She's a resident minister at the University of San Francisco. She had to catch a train to Reno at the buttcrack of dawn. So, I had an early start out of the town of 4-way stops, hills, and interesting architecture. I'm hoping to head back soon.

Here’s my life right now: I started driving at six this morning, and pulled off when I became too sleepy. The town that I pulled into is none different than Salinas, the setting of John Steinbeck’s epic, East of Eden. Steinbeck paints this valley as one of near paradise. And it might have been, but when I pulled off the highway, I navigated through a maze of car dealerships until I found a Burger King parking lot where I could nap in my car. To me, none of these things come close to my view of an ideal setting. Nowhere is safe from these poisonous corporations that have crept their way into every small town in the U.S.; they continue to destroy our forests and our oceans and our health, and duh, they control our political system.

So, why did I support the burger giant and buy an iced tea (even though I mixed the unsweetened black and sweetened green teas, it’s so saturated with fructose that it’s nearly intoxicating)? That’s a question that I’m asking myself as well. Here’s the answer: they have a sign that said “Free WiFi.” It’s really slow, and worse than Holden’s connection, but still, do you realize what this means? Assuming they have WiFi, Every Burger King is now an encyclopedia, video store, newsstand, bank, map, school, etc. Does everyone realize the potential of the internet? If you’re connected, you have access to all other human beings on the planet simultaneously, in a very physical way. Of course, we have always been spiritually connected, but now I can…oh, wait, let me text my friend in Hong Kong real quick. Wait, wut? Imagine that 100, 50, 20 years ago.

I remember my first time at the computer lab, in Kindergarten, sharing the screen with the Korean girl with bad breath. I remember seeing the internet for the first time, a dial-up when I was in second grade, at Kyle Bain’s house. His mom helped us look up Star Wars. I come from the generation that was born after the Berlin wall fell, the combination of the first and second worlds. A new world will be created by my generation, the post-Cold War kids. The Post War kids. We’re done with this.

I’m off to San Luis Obispo.

Eureka: I have found it!

Actually, I'm in Arcata, CA, home of Humboldt State University. This town fosters my kind of people. I partly wanted to check out this town because my grandparents met at school here, back in the day, and my Dad was born in nearby Eureka. The town's atmosphere and layout (with a central plaza and all) reminded me of many villages in Costa Rica. Laid back hippies smoking ganja. Arcata rocks both the pine and the palm.

Two beautiful worlds colliding here, with California Chill and the Grunginess of the South Sound. Steen showed me around the city, and I was called into a bar called TJ's (which are my initials), which was sporting the yin/yang sign out front. I couldn't resist.

Dude on the street: "Do you have a cigarette?"
Me: "Oh, no, man. Sorry."
Dude: "Oh, don't be sorry; be silly! It's more fun"
Me: *jaw dropped*

For those who think that they know my heart, you know that Eastern Philosophy really resonates with me. Arcata stands against the ocean, facing the lands far across the sea, and lets the Buddhist and Taoist thoughts whip in like the rains that took down a power line this morning. Also appealing to me in this town: Mountains, Surfing, Redwoods, Green, Cows. Don't be surprised if I end up here for a while, anybody. Arcata is kinda like Bellingham and Olympia ran off together, headed for Mexico but got lost in the woods, started a farm, had a kid, and that kid dropped out of high school because he smoked too much pot. Years later, that kid started a successful tea shop/used book store. I don't know... Arcata is sweet.

Lutheran Church in Arcata. Looks like a fortress.

Puking in Portland

As is tradition when my friend Chris Renfrow and I get together, one of us ended up puking. That person was me.

After leaving Gresham with a vague idea of how to get to downtown Portland, I followed "Taylor Street" until it led me to my destination, just as the infamous Chris Renfrow arrived. He showed me the saddest apartment that I'd ever seen. I slept in the box second from the left, back wall, (not the one with the GRE study book inside.)

Promptly after arriving, I made a bread, pesto, and salsa sandwhich. Not the best dinner imaginable, but I was ravenously hungry. I also ate one of the Amanita muscaria mushrooms that I had found at the hospital. Advice: don't eat one of these unless you are in the proper mindset, outside, and in a calm environment. When we walked around downtown trying to find a bar, I became increasingly nauseous. The scent of my salad dressing made me have to sit on a toilet for a while, waiting to hurl. I didn't. Then, suddenly, I felt fine and demolished my salad. On our walk back to the apartment, Chris told me how sheep were castrated (I won't go into detail) and the thought of it made me sick. I thew up a block away from Powell's Book Store, as Chris cackled and took this picture:

After emptying the contents of my stomach, I was rather hungry again, and the idea of eating a Voodoo Donut was the best possible thing that I could imagine for the night. In the wake of donut euphoria, we watched a movie called "Forks Over Knives." It's a documentary about how animal products in large quantities (like our typical Wester diet) have a sever affect on our health. When people switch to plant-based, whole food diets, they are able to reverse cancers, diabetes, and other debilitating diseases, and have an overall increase in energy levels and quality of life. Check it out. I might try to cut animal products from my diet soon. We shall see. Chris and I had a great conversation this morning over coffee. We talked about our futures, the future of society, and how to find happiness.

The road was long, windy, wooded, and rainy to Eureka, CA, where I now sit. The Oregon countryside is rather beautiful, and I can see why people traveled in covered wagons to get to this west coast promised land so many years ago. Tomorrow, I'll be learning about the redwood nursery where I'm staying with my friend Steen. He runs this company.

Seattle Siblings, Southern Sojourns

So my trip took an interesting detour in the past few days. I was tentatively planning on going to Salem, but my future big BIL (brother in law) Patrick became rather ill, and it would not have been good to visit him. Instead, I went to Northwest hospital with my mom and sister as my mom had her uterus removed. About two weeks ago, she was diagnosed with an early stage of endometrial cancer, the lining of the uterus. And now, the place in which I started my life is gone, dead mass. My life is different now: I think and feel independently of my parents. My decisions are my own. Growing up is strange. Still, I’m glad that the surgery passed without any complications, and my mom is in for quite a few weeks of recovery.

            While my mom was put under, I got dropped at Seattle Pacific University, where I met up with the brothers Kendall: Benny and Philip. Philip had just left Holden Village, and it was great to see him again. We always have long, uncertain goodbyes, never knowing when we’ll see each other again, but the universe always brings us back together.

I spent the evening with the sisters Gordon: Callie and Sarah. They’re my neighbors from Ellensburg, and I hadn’t seen them in quite a while. It was cool to hang out with two sets of siblings in the same day, not to mention my own sister.

            In the morning I headed back to the hospital, but not until I grabbed a coffee with Philip in Fremont. And a pot pie for breakfast. Yum. A drunken guy on the street told us that he was looking for people like us: people paving the way. It was strange, but it still felt important. I found a patch of Amanita muscaria at the hospital, and they keep presenting themselves to me. I’m still waiting for the right moment to try them.

            The south-bound leg of my trip has continued again, and I've left beautiful Washington State. On my way to Portland, I briefly heard about Gaza’s attacks on Israel, and I want to find out more. In my book, the U.S. begins a war with Iran as the oil economy collapses, and it will be strange if things actually unfold in that way. I met my friend Claire in Portland, on Hawthorne street, after getting rather lost, but it all worked out. Together, we grabbed pizza and beer, then wandered a bit.

Claire and I lived together at PLU. She’s doing Jesuit Volunteer Corps, and lives in an old Monastery/Nunnery in Gresham, a suburb of Portland. It’s a sweet old house with many strange rooms. Tonight I’m planning on meeting my buddy Chris Renfrow in another part of Portland.

There and Back Again: A Hobo's tale by Hagbo Baggins.

Dear Blog followers, aka blogollowers,

Thank you for taking any interest in my life. This is helpful for me to journal my thoughts and experiences; it allows me to relive and reflect on my trip. I can't imagine that it's super interesting, and probably seems self centered. So, thank you for putting up with me. I do believe that we are entering a time a incredible change, and I think my experiences on the road are helping me to solidify this notion. And, I hope that my experiences help anyone reading to see what I see: Everything will work itself out if you don't try to resist the change. The universe will surprise you with things that you never thought you would do, people you never expected to meet, and smells that you never thought you would smell.

The past few days have been fairly low key, as I've returned to Lakewood and Lacey, but I have visited  many old friends and relatives, and had some cool experiences. Here are some highlights:

1. Met a cool lady from Reno on the shuttle from Bellingham to Seattle. She rents heavy machinery, we talked about mushroom hunting, and Joani and I share a love for the beautiful diversity of Washington.

2. Wandered around downtown Seattle for long enough to fall asleep on the bus from exhaustion. Bought a homeless lady some pizza. Spontaneously encountered an old PLU friend at the fish market (Seattle Encounter of Spontaneity #5, for those keeping score at home).

3. Bus Driver: "You going to Olympia?"
Me: "No. Why?"
Driver: "For some reason or another, everybody with a beard and a backpack is going to Olympia."

4. Ate a birthday dinner with a wise 81 year old woman.

5. I got to see my old friend from preschool: David Hopper, brother of Nicole (see Beyond the Border: Bellingham). It had been way too long.

6. Explored Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge. Taco Bus.

My Mom is having surgery tomorrow in Seattle as she was recently diagnosed with endometrial cancer, lining of the uterus. And I think it would be good for me to head back that way. It worked out best, I believe, as my sister's fiance, whom I was going to visit in Salem today, is sick. Seattle ho! Round three.

Beyond the Border: Bellingham

As he raced to catch an early morning train, our young protagonist wondered if he would make the 6:40 departure. After closing the gate to the train, the ticket-taker allowed Taylor to go through customs and board. Any later and he would not have been so lucky. He wondered what would come next as he crossed the border into his home state, especially as his phone had unexpectedly died the night previous. After being accosted by border patrol, the young man arrived in Bellingham just as his childhood friend, Nicole, and Miles, her boyfriend arrived at the station. They headed to get breakfast and walk around Fairhaven.

After sleeping very little the past few days, Taylor took a 2 hour nap in the early afternoon, then ran around Western Washington University's campus. The boy decided that he could live in this city for a while. It's the perfect size, he thought.

Miles, Nicole, and Taylor headed downtown to catch drinks and pizza with Nicole's friends. At the Iona theater, they watched a sort of play competition, where three separate plays performed a segment of their ongoing series and were voted on by the audience to see who would get voted off. It was sweet. They met some friends at the Beaver Bar, then went to dance at 'Rumors.' The night ended with sandwhiches and reminiscing about backyards.

After worrying about not having his phone on the rest of his road trip, Taylor had a comforting dream in the night that the phone spontaneously turned on. When he woke up, he tinkered with the battery, and lo, the phone miraculously turned on. It could have been a real pain in the ass to meet people via email or facebook for the rest of the trip.

The afternoon was spent watching the Seahawks game with friends of Miles and Nicole. Then, the trio headed to Taylor Shellfish Farms in Sammish Bay, where Nicole works. The peaceful nature of the day allowed the young traveler to recover, relax, and revive for the next leg of his trip. He had already spent one week on the road.

Vancouver, B.C.

I’ll start with some advice: Befriend a Canadian.

People have always told me that Vancouver is a great city, and the past couple days I have been experiencing it for myself. It definitely has a cool vibe. It’s beautiful, easy to get around, and pretty clean. Seattle, I would say, has more character, but I’ve definitely seen more of Sea-town's nooks and crannies.

Yesterday morning Jeff gave me a bright and early ride to the train, and I had a lovely trip up the northern coast of Washington. Trains are great. When I arrived in Vancouver, I had to go through customs, and I felt a little bit accosted as I tried to explain Holden Village and how I knew my friend Jonathan, my Vancouver host. It sent me into a little downward spiral as I wandered the new landscape without friends, Canadian money, or knowing how to get around. For a few minutes, I was lonely. But then I remembered how beautiful the Earth is, and how intricate and complex cities are, and how things would work out if I just let them. I was immediately in a better mood, fascinated by the multitude of truly international faces and beautiful architecture. First things first, I needed some Canadian mullah. Around the next block, I spotted a bank, and the teller waved the $2 fee for my currency exchange, probably because I looked homeless with the beard and backpack and all. Oh, I found 20 bucks on the train: Bonus.

Next, I grabbed a slice of pizza and a beer, then went to the public library. I really love libraries. At PLU, the library was my daily hang zone, and sometimes I would just go to nap on the couches. As night fell, I needed to find a bus to the University of British Columbia, where I was to meet my friend, Jonathan, but I wasn't sure where to start. In the synchronicity, a man holding a coffee table approached me and asked if I was going to the University. No joke. He said he would walk me to the bus stop, which he did. Ask and ye shall receive.

I met Jonathan near his apartment in the northeast corner of the enormous campus, and he promptly fixed a delicious dinner and popped open a beer. Canadian hospitality. Just as dinner was ready, Jon’s friend Dustin showed up, unexpectedly, and we decided to hit the town. After picking up another friend, Daniel, the Canadians took me to a local bar, called “The Local,” and I ordered my first poutine. Poutine is a rich, French-Canadian dish consisting of French fries, gravy, and cheese curds. Oh my Dog. Why don’t we do that in the U.S.?

I woke up this morning (Friday the 9^th) and Jonathan, a surprisingly good chef, made a variation of eggs benedict that he called “Eggs from Hell.” Bagels instead of English muffins and chorizo instead of Canadian bacon (ironic?). Really, my Vancouver trip has been a food adventure of sorts.

I’m extremely grateful to Jonathan, whom I told in August that I would visit after knowing him for only two weeks at Holden. He’s a pro at hosting, guaranteed five star rating. I also admire his recent life decision. He quit his respectable engineering job, which he hated for its extreme practicality without question, and is now going back to school to study sociology. This is a man who is embracing the synchronicity by following his passion, unafraid of the unknown. Think of all of the miserable people who are stuck in jobs that they hate because it’s comfortable and reliable. For shame. If you think you’re stuck, you’re not. Follow your heart and the universe will provide. People laugh when I tell them this, but it’s so evident if you actually follow through. Haters goanna hate.

We are the universe perceiving itself, and what we think in turn affects the universe. The laws of physics are changing, and this concept will soon be very common knowledge; it’s only a matter of time.

I walked around Stanley Park today in the north part of the city, and really saw the Autumn beauty of Vancouver. Here's a pic of the public library:

The Ephemeral City

Yesterday was a crazy adventure. I woke up at Seattle Pacific University, where I had been staying with my friend Benny and his cool roommates. They let me crash on their beanbag, which was surprisingly comfortable. They were all busy in the morning, so I headed to the school’s library to work on editing the novel that I’m writing. After a bit I caught a bus to the U-District to meet my friend Caroline for lunch at Café on the Ave. She’s going to dental school at UW. We hadn’t seen each other for a year and a half and it was great to catch up.

 The sun was out, so we decided to walk through the beautiful UW campus, when who should appear out of nowhere but Jeff Jorgensen, whom I had hung out with the day before (1^st Chance encounter of the day). No more than five minutes later, my buddy Luke from PLU showed up at this same random spot (2^nd chance encounter of the day). 

Caroline had to leave, so I ran off with Jeff. When walking by the music building, I spotted a patch of Amanita muscaria mushrooms, which I have been on the hunt for for quite a while. These are the ‘Alice in Wonderland’ ‘Super Mario Bros.” mushrooms.

 Very nice. Jeff and I promptly picked them and stored them in his bag. We found out later that these are not illegal to possess, like the psilocybin mushrooms, as they contain a different mind-altering chemical, muscimol. I was eager to try one.

Overcome by hunger, we went to a Pho place on the ave, where I ran in to Jeff Rud, brother of Mark, who I had seen a few days earlier (3^rd chance encounter). After eating, we saw my friend Haylee on the ave (4^th chance encounter), and she gave us a Ziploc of M&Ms. Alright!

With a full belly, I became quite tired and tried to nap as Jeff played Tetris in a city park. I couldn’t sleep. I’m finding that all of the new experiences make me pretty sleepy in the late afternoon, just as it’s getting dark. Back at Jeff’s, I ate one of the Amanita caps; one is a rather low dosage, but I basically had the feeling of being just a little tipsy, with no bad side effects. I’m eager to try the Amanita again.

Spent the night at Haylee’s apartment on Capitol Hill. I’ve grown rather fond of Seattle, and I was sad to leave it this morning.

The Emerald City

I'm sitting in a dorm room at Seattle Pacific University. It's late, I'm exhausted. Barack Obama was reelected as president, and gay marriage was legalized in Washington, as well as marijuana. It's about time. If you can't see the immense changes happening on the planet right now, you're blind. Wake up. And don't be surprised if things start accelerating.

Started the day with farewells to friends at PLU. Packed my backpack up for a week without my car and other supplies, then got a ride to the 512 park and ride, where I caught the bus to Seattle. When I arrived in the city, I grabbed a bite of dumpling from a Chinese place in the international district with my friend from high school, Jeff Jorgensen.

At Jeff's place in Queen Anne, he wasted no time in getting yogurt on his shirt, which in high school was a daily occurrence.

We explored Discovery Park, North of Ballard, and found a few 'shaggy parasol' mushrooms. I ended up frying one of them up at Jeff's as he and Rose watched with uncertainty: another successful mushroom hunting adventure.

For the election results, we headed up to Capitol Hill, where the people were going absolutely crazy. I was in a bit of shock, thinking about how different my time in the mountains was from this. Same planet? Not so sure... The Komo 4 Seattle News team was just outside of the bar we were in, as this is an extremely progressive part of town, and the kids were off the wall. Eventually, the street was closed down and a huge block party ensued. What a night.

So much has happened today that I feel totally braindead, in need of a good sleep. Peace.