Seeking An Extraordinary Life - A Travel Journal

Tonight is First Friday, an art-focussed event held in Las Vegas' older downtown area on the first Friday of every month. It was started by and continues to be heavily supported by the Burner community, and incorporates musical performances, art shows and other events. Deidre and I head for the Aruba Hotel, which is playing host to N.O.I.S.E (Network of Immersive Sensory Entertainment), a multimedia evening and one of First Friday's major nexi (nexuses?).

We meet Shay and Kim at the hotel itself around 10. The back room of the Aruba is already a buzz of activity when we arrive, with a stage and instruments being set up in the center, easels all round the walls and a good crowd already present. Many of the attendees are familiar, welcome neo-hippie types, with beards, dreadlocks, handweave and tie-dye being well represented. We meet several fellow burners and hear about some of the events coming up in the community, including (joy!) the Las Vegas Santa Rampage, the local Santarchy event!

The theme of the evening is the mandala, and variations on the theme are visible everywhere as artists settle in to work on paintings, drumskins and decorations, and upstairs on the balcony a walkable foam maze based on the Labyrinth of Crete has been laid out on the floor, along with other decorative maze designs exhibiting mandala principles.

The band, when they come on, are an excellent local psychedelic blues/rock outfit called Psychic Pussy, who hammer out some serious noise with virtuoso lead guitar and very catchy rhythms, and get much of the crowd moving. After their first set a drum circle of over 30 members forms by the stage and builds up a wonderful wall of percussive sound. They are joined by several talented female dancers who weave up and down within the circle, creating a beautiful visual counterpoint to the interweaving beats.

The drum circle is followed by a second half from Psychic Pussy, and a DJ picks up the slack when they finally move off. Deidre, Shay and Kim are finally exhausted and head off to catch some kip, but I'm still wide awake and in the mood for dancing, and decide to stay till the end. The event finally winds down at around 2am, but a residual drum group forms on the back porch as I drift out and I stay to watch and dance a little until it finally breaks up. I wander on round the corner to the Art Bar, to outward appearances a commonplace biker bar but with an amazing lighted star of metal rods on the roof simulating an explosion or wave transmission, inventive commissioned graffiti and art on the outer walls and more displayed inside.

Normally the bar would have live bands playing all night on First Friday, but today apparently they've all called off for various reasons and the bar's dead. I stay for one drink, get a burger from the Jack In the Box next door (they've closed the dining area, but agree to serve me at the drive-through window after I offer to hold an imaginary steering wheel and make car noises while I wait), then wander up to take a proper look at the Fremont Street Experience, the incredible covered street (the canopy is 90 feet high at its peak and covers four blocks) which incorporates many of downtown's biggest casinos.

Finally I catch the Deuce back down the Strip and a local bus which takes me close to the house, and fall into bed at around 6am, feeling I've made the most of the night.

Labels: arbuba hotel, Burning Man, first friday, las vegas, santa rampage

Having had a couple more uneventful days of relaxing and yoga, Deidre and I leave for southern California around lunchtime, stopping only for a quick meal at Jack in the Box. The drive is long - it takes almost seven hours to reach El Centro - but we crank up the music and enjoy the spectacular views as we race through desert and plains, working our way south down the Arizona/California border and passing through numerous weird and interesting little towns.

Once we reach southern California, the signs of the United States' ongoing immigration war become apparent. We pass through several checkpoints with armed guards (fortunately they wave us on without checking papers once they see we're white), and twice pairs of black helicopters glide across the road ahead of us, presumably scanning the brushland on either side for creeping figures.

El Centro itself we reach after nightfall. It's one of those travellers' towns, built around a couple of crossroads and mostly composed of hotels, restaurants and other amenities. We locate a motel with a reasonable room deal, and head back out for dinner at Sizzler, my first time eating at this surf 'n turf chain. Despite the production-line approach the steaks and fries are excellent and our Mexican waiter (most of the residents of this town are from south of the border, it seems) attentive and cheery.

Our motel actually has a Mexican restaurant effectively in the courtyard, and we stop in there on the way back for a couple of drinks. They make a damn fine margarita, and I also introduce Deidre to the dreaded Tequila Slammer.

On the way back to our motel room the hot tub looks pretty inviting - we're both still fairly stiff from the long drive. It's technically after hours but we grab our towels and sneak out for a surreptitious bathe, trying to keep out of sight of the office, then sprint back to our room barefoot with a certain amount of giggling.

Labels: borders, California, el centro, immigration, las vegas, margaritas, Mexico

Refreshed enough to be functional, Deidre and I return to the house for showers before heading out again to get some breakfast - for once Mark is both up and about and not in the middle of work, so he comes along too. On returning we set to cleaning up the house, which is becoming a bit of a tip, and we finally get a futon moved into the new extension, which becomes my room - I've been sleeping on the sofa up till now, very comfortably it must be said, but it's really nice to have my own space.

Actually it sparks some thinking. On Wednesday, Deidre heads down through southern California to Mexicali in Mexico to see her doctor there. Our plan was that I would ride along with her, she'd drop me in Mexicali and I'd start hitching south on my way into South America. But I've been thinking about that plan and it just doesn't seem like the time. I've got too much still to learn here in the States, I don't feel like I've seen everything I want to see, and I don't feel ready for Mexico now. So I'm going to go along for the ride anyway, but we'll both be coming back.

I'm going to stick in Vegas a little longer, period to be determined, and then I'll probably go back to San Francisco for a while again - if there's anywhere I want to spend more time, that's it!

Labels: California, las vegas, mexicali, Mexico

Michelle and Tonya are a bit muzzy in the morning and I'm actively hungover, but a casino breakfast buffet revives our spirits - I load up on chicken fried steak and a biscuit with gravy, sausages, bacon, eggs and potatoes and we all feel much better. So much better, in fact, that we stop back in at New York New York for another beer to take with us.

We spend most of the morning wandering up the Strip, checking out the stores and casino displays and chatting. Then we take the monorail to Mandalay Bay hotel and conference centre so the girls can collect their race kit and we can see the marathon expo.

Mandalay Bay is something extraordinary - a honeycomb of richly carpeted and decorated halls and corridors so huge you can barely see people at the other end. We walk for a good ten minutes from the entrance area to the hall in which the Expo is being held, all within the same building.

The expo is a riot of stalls from every possible business tieing in to the marathon crowd, selling sports clothes, energy drinks, bars and gels, hi-tech sweatbands, stopwatches, pedometers, endless sloganwear with marathon jokes, and more tangentially associated businesses - ultraviolet tooth cleaning, jewellery, charms, and several of the Vegas shows have promotional booths with deals for runners.

It's a crazy onslaught of commercialism which quickly depresses me in my tired and blurry state, and I soon decide to branch off and head back to the house. A couple of bus rides later I'm enjoying a much-anticipated shower, and after a couple of hours' nap I feel a lot more human. A serious session at It's Yoga in the evening and I feel back on top of the world.

Labels: buffet, casinos, las vegas, mandalay bay, new york new york, vegas marathon, yoga

Labels: arrogant bastard, Austin City Limits, fatburger, las vegas, marathon, Planet Hollywood, sin city brewpub

Deidre is out at work during the day, but for three days straight we do yoga each night. We switch back and forth between It's Yoga and a wonderful donation yoga studio - Blue Sky. It's actually the back room of a little art gallery in the downtown area of Vegas, and we practice our asanas and vinyasas under the gaze of Bettie Page prints and symbolic fertility paintings.

We have a different teacher each session, and thus a different approach each time. There's Bum, a skinny, dreamy hippy guy who dresses entirely in tie-dye with a huge woolly hat and can throw his feather-light body into extraordinary contortions with grace, Anna Thea, a slightly intense lady with a huge mad grin full of love and welcome who teaches heart-opening yoga, woman power and kundalini, and Melissa, who is younger, matter-of-fact and firm.

I'm starting to feel the real benefits of the practice through this intense approach. I feel more graceful and balanced, more in touch with my body, and I feel calmer and more focussed in everyday life too. I'm starting to adjust the little details of the poses - how my body weight falls, positions of the toes and fingers, eyeline, and most of all the mental stance and breathing as I'm less distracted by my body's complaints. I'm starting to develop a craving for healthy food too, especially green vegetables. After every session Deidre and I return to the house like zombies, crooning "greeen theeeengs", and stuff ourselves with salads and steamed broccoli.

Labels: blue sky, it's yoga, las vegas

Labels: del taco, durango lodge, las vegas, Nevada, paymon's, red rock canyon, seamless, shopping, strip club, the strip

Everyone's up latish and a bit muzzy from the night's excesses, but a huge fried breakfast (eaten at around lunchtime) gets us back on track nicely. Once we can move again, Robin takes us out to the paddock at the side of the house, where her two horses are standing side by side and munching companionably. We met these two old boys previously on Thanksgiving itself; Quick is a former racehorse who still has a good turn of speed (and some jumpy energy), and Caesar was formerly a participant in Barrel Riding (for a brief explanation of which see "Rodeo and Other Matters") but is now getting pretty chubby - in fact he's beginning to resemble a barrel himself.

Caesar is the better-tempered animal so Robin leads him out and we feed him carrots while she puts on his blanket and saddle. The two horses are inseperable, and Quick follows nervously along on the other side of the fence as we walk him up the side of the paddock. Deidre, an avid rider in the past but having been away from horses for some time, mounts up first, and Robin leads Caesar in a couple of laps round the barn, since she's not sure how he'll behave with an unfamiliar rider.

I'm up next, and with my right foot in the stirrup manage to haul myself up into the saddle with relative ease. I haven't been on a horse since a couple of pony rides when I was a kid on farm visits. It's an amazing feeling, sensing the power of those huge muscles moving under you - I can see how people become addicted to horse-riding, and they're such beautiful and fascinating animals, so much strength and speed packed into lean (well, relatively in Caesar's case) and efficient form. We take a couple of laps of the barn and I slide back down on quite a buzz.

The ride back, in daylight this time, is spectacular. We roll across miles of red earth and yellow scrubland, the horizon always walled with mountains crinkled and creased like rhinoceros hide, catching the light of the descending sun on their slab faces and peaks. On a few of the higher points snow has settled. The last of the light casts a long bright streak across the tops of the mountains behind us as the sun dips over the horizon, and we come down on Vegas in darkness, once again lit up like an enormous carnival ride.

Deidre and I are tired of travelling but buzzing with the need to do something, and we only stop in long enough to unwind, shower and change before heading out again. We meet Deidre's boss, Chris, and two of his friends, Ingrid and Jordan(a Burner couple, in another of those odd synchronicities), at a bar on Fremont Street. It's a vast, partially-covered plaza in the older region of downtown Vegas, lined with bars and clubs, where the neon signs of defunct casinos are brought and placed on display for the ages. Group gathered we immediately depart for the destination of the evening - Dino's, near the top of the Strip.

Dino's advertises itself as "The last neighbourhood bar in Las Vegas", and inside it's authentically rough-and-ready with a bare concrete floor, strip-lighting and battered tables. The pool tables are occupied by what I'm almost certain is a Hispanic biker gang. At the front of the bar, by the door, is the bar's main claim to fame and the purpose of our visit - the low stage and technical gear necessary for Dino's legendary three-nights-a-week karaoke jam, hosted by Danny G.

Danny G arrives shortly after we do and begins to set up his kit and set out boxes piled with song folders. He's a chunky middle-aged guy with glasses and greying wings of hair, but his voice and manner are pure showbiz and he bounces about the small stage with charisma and passion. Shortly the experienced karaokers all have their noses in the song lists, and nervously I do the same. I pick a lowkey start - Peggy Lee's "Fever", followed by the Hammer Song and Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock 'n Roll".

There's a pretty good crowd in, with a big group taking up two tables in front of us containing several serious karaoke fanatics, and couples and small groups dotted around the tables and the bar. The song slips begin to pile up next to Danny G as the performers come and go. When I'm called up I walk to the stage on wobbly legs through a haze of stagefright, but the cheers and whoops of my own group and those at the adjacent tables are heartfelt and encouraging, and I get through the song with confidence but no flare. I walk off in a glow of relief and genuine enjoyment, and I return to a round of high-fives from the group.

The evening continues and my spirits rise higher as I soak up the joy of the event. Talent is very mixed but if anything those who can't carry a tune sing with the most passion (and volume) and applause is universal and free from judgement. If anything it feels like a Burner event, with everyone just focussed on expressing themselves and having (and sharing) the best time, no judgements, no derision, just love and support.
When I get up again there's no fear, and once I'm into the swing of the Hammer Song I make a real performance of it, moving around the stage and putting some passion on the high notes. It's fun, energising and the crowd love it. I come off the stage on a total high.

The rest of our group have a great night too. Deidre is the total performer, a demonic force onstage in black and red punk grrl gear, howling out rock greats and swinging country classics. Ingrid delivers a couple of sultry songs, while Jordan leaps around the stage with wild arm gestures, drops on one knee and roars out his selections. Chris is, according to all the evidence, completely tone-deaf, but he knowns no fear or self-consciousness at the mike and delivers with volume and energy to a wildly appreciative crowd.

I find "Old Time Rock 'n Roll" too high for my range and have to rumble it out an octave down, but put in a second song slip and make the very most of Peter Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill". Finally, with most of our group dispersed, Deidre and I finish up, she with Heart's "Magic Man" (perfectly suited to her rich throaty lows and crystal-clear high tones) and I, to my own considerable surprise, channel some of Tim Curry's dark sexuality into a rendition of "Sweet Transvestite".

We stagger out into the cool Vegas night a little after 2am...to be continued...

Labels: arizona, dinos, Farm and Ranch Equipment, horses, karaoke, las vegas, Nevada, thanksgiving, the strip

Labels: arizona, deep-fried turkey, las vegas, thanksgiving

The day is fairly uneventful - Deidre is out at work, and I spend most of it working on the blog and catching up on email. When she arrives home, we make a quick change and head out for yoga.
Despite my good intentions, I haven't been to a yoga class since my amazing first experience at Candlelight Yoga in Reno - I would have started in San Francisco, but Beginners Acrobatics took its place instead. Actually the acrobatics practice was in many ways equally good, and even used some of the same exercises (Hannah and Leo both do yoga too) for conditioning and strength.

"It's Yoga" have another beautifully painted studio, with an airy entranceway and soft lighting which immediately puts me in a calm mood. Although I know this is going to be hard and at times painful, I'm buzzed to be getting back to yoga practice. The instructor is both more businesslike than Jackie and a little easier on us, not pushing the poses as long or moving from one to the next as fast.

To my joy I find that my acrobatics practices, stretches and general higher level of exercise in the City have paid off - I'm far stronger and more flexible than I was before, and poses which were agony in Reno I can now sustain with just a little effort. I also feel more graceful and find it easier to flow from one pose into the next. It's still an intensive workout and I'm dripping sweat by the time we reach the peak and begin to move into lower, less intense poses, finally coming to rest in Shavasana for a few minutes of silent meditation.

Walking out both Deidre and I are slightly wobbly, glowing and exhilerated, with that amazing feeling of being cleansed, cleaned out and radiating health. We're also starving, and in the mood for something substantial but not like putting too many toxins back into our bodies. Thai food seems a good option and Deidre has a favourite local restaurant, Archie's Thai Kitchen, which is just round the corner. We munch incredible Thai food and slowly melt into our chairs as the endorphins wipe out all rational thought.

Labels: archie's thai kitchen, it's yoga, las vegas, yoga

Labels: las vegas, Nevada, San Francisco