“You come from Kentucky hillbillies,” she said with a sly smile. “See how far we’ve come,” she meant. My grandma and I talked for the first time. We’ve conversed and danced, smiled and held hands—but we’ve never talked. Not like adults. And so as the stories rolled from her tongue, she felt like those sages past, captivating my every thought. She wields my life in her history. She wields my life in her.

And so she went on, Mark Twain-ing tales of dirt floors, coal mines, fire roasted game, train jumping, rugged clothes, torn shoes, red hair, blue eyes, sweated brows, and the plural of love.

She told me I come from the civil war and hand-me-downs. That graduating high school wasn’t quite possible. She told me that the men went to war and the women loved them. “Everyone has a vice.” “Comedians today are crude.” “When you get old you know who you are and what you like.” “It’s nice to hear your voice.” “It’s nice to see you.” “You should visit more often.” “I’m sad to see you go…”

I realize that I prosper because I can. I hope because I am allowed to. I dream because I sleep well. I believe because I am comfortable. I live because they have. I live because she has. And so true are her words, even calling them wise would insult.

I won’t go into too much detail in Vegas because what happens there is supposed to be a secret.

But we stayed in a great hotel for fifteen dollars a night. Went to the two best night clubs I’ve ever been to for free. Our names were on the list so we skipped the line. Got limo service around for free. And had the two most gorging meals of my life.

Sin City is an understatement.

Pictures of Vegas

Rock Out,

Jonathon Kendall

Once again we arrived not knowing where we were going to stay. I couldn’t get ahold of my cousin and neither could Auren. Eventually Auren’s cousin in Berkeley came through and we had a wonderful time with them. Hospitality was amazing as usual.

First night we went to Berkeley for a night on the town, drank a few beers, Auren more than a few, got some late night food and called it a night. We got up pretty early the next day and drove to see the some Redwood trees and climb a mountain that was near and dear to Auren’s heart. We climbed rocks and hiked a bunch until we decided to see Haight Ashbury and the Castro District. Both were well worth it, talking with local hippies and visiting some great local eateries.

We had a beautiful dinner with Auren’s Uncle and soaked up their wisdom like a sponge.

I got an ear infection…and we left the Bay Area.

Pictures of San Francisco and Berkeley

Rock Out,

Jonathon Kendall

I already wrote about Yosemite in an earlier post but it is worth noting a few details.

Yosemite has the largest rocks I’ve ever seen.  They jut out of the Earth like natural born skyscrapers–gapping huge canyons into the Earth.  Breathtaking.

We hiked two trails and got off of both of them–one ending with thousand foot drop offs straight down, and the other with a three hundred and sixty degree view of the park, of California, of the world.  We stood on top  for one moment, touching the clouds, and becoming intimately acquainted with the sun.

What a wonderful world.

Pictures from Yosemite

Rock Out,

Jonathon Kendall

Santa Barbara…. What a city! Well, more like a town. It’s small, with a distinct chill and young vibe, and life here is very, very good. We arrive around midnight. I’m starving. Ask a local girl where the best late night food is. The response we hear is Freebirds, and we’re off to experience an orgiastic burrito-sharing moment in time. Beans. Rice. Pico de Gallo. Chicken. Salsa Verde. Sour Cream. Corn. Guacamole. And fried onions. I repeat. Fried Onions. Never before have I experienced such a multitudinous burst of flavor from one item of food. Absolutely amazing. Took a bite of Janssen and Destiny’s burritos as well. For a beverage, I ordered something called an Horchata, which is a cinnamon-flavored rice milk beverage…. Out of this world! I ordered it again the next morning when we returned to Freebird’s for breakfast.

The beach was, well, immaculate. Gorgeous sand, with beautiful college-age girls in bikinis and guys tossing footballs all about. In the distance, the faint beat of an electronic dance beat. Irish accents all around us; apparently the Irish youth love Santa Barbara’s beaches in the summer. I don’t blame them. The life here is slow, chill, Rastafarian, pleasurable, warm, and laden with sun. College at Michigan is competitive but fun. College in Santa Barbara seems like a breezy day at the beach. I pondered how it would feel to take my homework to the beach… I enjoyed the thought. At one point, I decided to go for a swim and ran full steam into the ocean, crashing into the waves. Fighting them like a man. The ground underwater was hard and smooth; it wasn’t until we returned from the beach towards home that we realized that it was tar—and indeed, our feet were completely blackened.

Two British rock band members accompanied us on the couches in Chris’s home (we Couchsurfed). I took the hammock for the first night, but ended up in the car as the midnight dew proved less than comfortable. 4 Swedes almost stayed but didn’t because one was allergic to dogs. Next morning we packed up and headed north towards San Francisco. If you haven’t figured out where you want to go to school yet… UCSB might just be the way to go. Awesome little town.

Peace and love on this rocking out adventure,

Auren

Edit from Jonathon: We ate at an incredible Creole Cajun place in downtown.  It was close to thirty dollars a meal but well worth it.  Auren’s catfish was the best I’ve ever had–while I munched on some softshell crab.  We ordered the dessert before the meal because they make it fresh so it takes more than a half hour to prepare.  The manager liked our road-trip story so much he gave it to us for free.  Karma.