The Corss-Country Chronicles: The Long Road Back

After 18 days driving across 12 states, listening to 27 hours of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and drinking more bottles of Lemon Snapple than I have digits to count with, Molly and I finally made it to Philadelphia, PA - the last destination on our long road back to Appel Farm Summer Arts Camp.


After regretfully leaving New Orleans, we made a few pit stops on our trip back north. We spent a lovely 12 hours in Nashville where I was lucky enough to catch up with an old Appel Farm friend and re-sample the musical delights of Nashville’s downtown. From there it was on to Winston-Salem, NC where we watched the NBA finals and slept on the floor of Molly’s cousin’s apartment. We then drove on to Washington DC, playing chicken on the highway with a semi-trailer so Molly could take a photo of some travelling piglets. We stopped for a day in the US capital to give our best wishes to Barack and hang out with some old friends of Molly’s. Then after packing up the car one last time, we drove the final three hours of our trip where Molly dropped me off in Philly before heading onwards to New York City.

After the long slog to get back to Philadelphia before Molly had to be at camp, it was a relief to finally be somewhere for more than 48 hours. And it was a comfort to be back in Philadelphia - the city which had come to represent 'days off' and escapism while working at camp last year.

We had a little reunion in Philly with my closest camp girlfriends and when I wrapped my arms around them and looked into the faces of these people I never thought I would see again, it hit home that camp was about to start. The long wintery months spent pining for New Jersey and intolerable humidity and my creative companions had finally become a reality. A reality that hit the pit of my stomach and sent in reeling.

A few of us journeyed to Atlantic City to catch some last minute rays and relaxation before we made the one hour drive to Elmer, New Jersey - a car trip that was mostly spent squeeling with excitement, like only girls can.

And when we came to that all-too-familiar stretch of country road and the Welcome to Appel Farm Arts Camp, I knew I was home. After 12 months of travelling, a complete year since I first left Australia, I was finally home.

Ciao for now. xo

The Cross-Country Chronicles: Oh, How Grand

After travelling down the west coast from city to city, finding ourselves in the middle of the Arizona desert with nothing on the horizon but sky and a disappearing road was a little daunting.

And when I say nothing, I mean nothing. Just very long, very open road with the only company being the occasional cactus. About the most exciting thing that happened between Los Angeles and Flagstaff, Arizona was seeing a tumbleweed blow onto the highway. And here's a quick factoid - one does not want to hit a tumbleweed at high speed. As fluffy as they might look, it's as tough and hard as a dried dead bush would imply. Apparently they're the kangaroo of Central America and hitting one will do more damage to your car then you'll do to it. Avoid at all cost.

Seeing the tumbleweed blowing in the wind (and believe me, there was plenty of wind) was about as exciting as things got driving down the I-40. But with the help of some N*SYNC, a little bit of Backstreet Boys and about five minutes of Hilary Duff, we arrived at the Grand Canyon.

I'm sure the Grand Canyon is beyond beautiful, but when there's been an uncontained fire raging in south Arizona, the canyon has a tendency to fill up with smoke. While the haze let up a little as the sun set, it was still difficult to see the truth depth and distance of the canyon itself, let alone take a worthwhile tourist snap. However, there's no denying that sitting on the edge of one of the world's largest natural wonders with my feet dangling precariously over the edge was definitely worth the seven hour drive from LA.

We stayed the night in Flagstaff - a further hour and a half drive from the canyon which almost sent us into delirium - at yet another motel I'd rather forget. Breakfast was at a mexican cafe where our waitress recommended we spend the morning at Slide Rock National Park in Sedona.

We should have left her a bigger tip as Slide Rock certainly made up for our disappointment from the day before. Hidden at the bottom of a canyon itself, Slide Rock featured natural water slides which were carved into the rocks of a stream which ran through the canyon. We spent the morning lying like lizards on the red rock and then slipping and sliding down the watery slippery dip. The water was a bit chilly, but nothing five seconds in the desert sun couldn't cure. And I didn't get sunburnt, Mum.

With Albequerque in our sights, we left Sedona and hit the open road once again. After our morning in the sun, the six hour drive drained our energy dry and if it weren't for the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows audio book, we may have never made it into New Mexico - our forth state in a week.

Ciao for now. xo

The Cross-Country Chronicles: Welcome to LA LA Land

The last time I was in LA was on a famil as a freelance writer for AAP. The LA I experienced was the plush, red-carpeted urban jungle where celebrities prowl for Prada and drink cocktails in private poolside cabanas. I stayed at snazzy hotels, I ate at snazzy restaurants, I drank snazzy cocktails and I wrote a snazzy travel story about how snazzy LA is.

Unlike Posh Spice, my return to LA was not recognised with snap-happy paparazzi awaiting at the airport. Instead, I was welcomed with a bowl of warm blueberry bread-n-butter pudding in the home of Molly’s godmother, Susie. This time, I was seeing LA from the eyes of a local.

The one thing that stood out from my last trip to LA (other than it being home to the best vintage store in the world, Wasteland) was the sprawling cement and the paradox of palm trees that ruled over the city like sentinels. Not much has changed in the last two years. The city is still an expanse of concrete and housing, rolling over the hills and far away. There are new buildings, new stadiums, new studios and new developments. Everything seems to be on the move. Everything that is, but the traffic.

Molly’s godmother, Suzie and her husband, Rob live on the outskirts of downtown in a suburb called Glendale. Suzie is a cinematic stills photographer, Rob is a writer and their bohemia is embodied in their house. If this is LA LA Land, Susie and Rob’s house is another wonderland in itself – a place where art and agriculture are brought together in a mess of romance and whimsy. Solar-powered fairy lights and lanterns hung from the trees as herbs and succulents exploded out of every tin, pot and can. My private quarters was a day room entirely separate from the main house with its own patio which overlooked the night-time glow of the LA lights. And on my bedside table, a fresh bottle of San Pellegrino. It was like rehab for the weary traveller.

After the rainy weather we encountered in San Francisco, Molly and I were both ready to soak up some serious sunshine. Day One was spent in Santa Monica and Venice where the sun was served up with a side of sand-blasting wind. Wandering up both boulevards left us both a little tired and unimpressed. Even people-watching at Venice Beach – the crazies, the man-apes pumping iron, the men trying to sell green cards for medical marijuana – left me unsatisfied. The only redemption was picking up a pair of comfy cloth shorts from Wasteland which will get some serious wear at camp this year.

So with Day One leaving a bit of a bad taste in our mouths, we decided we better up the enthusiasm for Day Two. And what better way to ensure a good day out than by going to the place where dreams really do come true – Disneyland.

The 10-year old part of my 23-year old self was giddy with excitement at the concept of going to Disneyland – the original mega-park of the Walt Disney franchise. In retrospect, I can see why my parents never gave in to my 10-year old pleas to take us to the most magical place on earth. Disneyland quite literally bibbiti-bobbiti-boos the money out of the parental pocket.

But all economics aside, it’s still Disneyland and it’s as good for the young as it is for the young at heart. Molly and I went on every ride – from Indiana Jones to Splash Mountain – spoiled ourselves with amusement park snacks and got a photo with the royal rodent himself, Mickey Mouse. The sheer amount of strollers and screaming children demanding princess paraphernalia was all made worth it when we stopped to watch the Soundsations parade – a song-and-dance tribute to Disney’s music moments – and I felt my 10-year old self swell inside. Aladdin waved at me, personally. I swear.

Full of fairy dust and with my Disneyland magnet in tow, we headed home at 9pm, a journey which marked my first experience behind the wheel in LA. Not only did we not crash, but we didn’t get lost. I’m getting so good at this.

After two days in LA – the longest pit-stop we’d made so far and exactly the replenishment I needed – it was back on the road this morning. I think we both felt a little reluctant to be leaving our private wonderland. Susie and Rob had been incredibly generous as our hosts – giving us free-reign of their residential playground and taking us to breakfast each day at their favourite, long-standing local restaurant. But with the road beckoning, we gave Susie and Rob’s dogs - Tzegi, Hattie and the unstoppable Hugo – one last cuddle, before leaving their forlorn faces for the Grand Canyon and the formidable desert that is Arizona.

Ciao for now. xo

The Cross-Country Chronicles: I Got People in Portland

Guess who's back in the USA?!

That's right. I've traded in maple syrup, Tim Hortons and the eternal winter for west coast beaches and Barack Obama. And I couldn't be happier. Bye bye Canada. Hello California.

After 18 brief but enjoyable hours in Vancouver with Zosia Cassie - my bunk director from Appel Farm 2010 - I made my way into the Americas via Seattle, Washington. I had a two hour layover in Seattle before I was due to catch a train to Portland, which was just enough time to decide that I could live in Seattle and live a very happy life. Despite its reputation, I was dubious about the coffee (I have become dubious about all American coffee) but I was pleasantly surprised that it lived up to its name. I spent two hours sitting in a cafe called Zeitgeist - free WiFi, coffee, happy days - sending emails and preparing myself for the prospect that in four hours I would be in Portland with my Appel Farm BFF, Molly Soloway.

Seeing Molly really hit home that I was back in the USA and that after all the waiting, camp was a mere couple of weeks away. Her parents welcomed me into their Portland home like I was one of their own children and were even encouraging about my having another hole pierced through my ear - just be glad it's not a tattoo, Mum. Molly showed me the Portland delights - the Saturday Markets, a trip to Trader Joe's for roadtrip supplys and a night of dancing at the Crystal Ballroom for their 80's music video party. Whitney Houston, dance your heart out.

My stay in the City of Roses was short and sweet and before we knew it, Molly and I were embarking on our Cross Country Roadtrip - Portland to New Jersey via the most wayward destinations available (more on that to come).

Our first day was spent getting lost before we even got out of Portland, followed by a seven hour drive to Eureka, California where for the second time since being in the USA, I got behind the wheel. Molly swears I'm doing really well, although I swear there's been a few times where she's clutched the door handle in fear because I've drifted too far to the right side of the right lane. Give me a break - it's a struggle using the left side of my brain.

On our drive to Eureka, we were given a small taste of the Redwood National Forest but nothing compared to our drive from Eureka to San Fransisco where we drove straight down the middile of the Avenue of the Giants. The Redwood National Forest protects 45 per cent of Coastal Redwoods - the tallest and most magnificent trees in the world. You could not wrap your arms around these suckers if you had your whole extended family plus the Brady Bunch - they're huge.

After Molly and I got tired of taking photos of the trees and driving our car through the middle of one (we didn't crash, we actually drove through a hole in a tree and paid $6 to do it), we headed onwards to San Francisco - home of the Golden Gate Bridge, Full House and a hell of a lot of hills. We are fortunate enough to be staying with the mum of one of Molly's school friends who has been an obliging and humble host since we got here all of five hours ago . She took us on a guided tour of downtown San Fran and then treated us to a lovely dinner and an even tastier bottle of red.

We're taking a break from driving tomorrow and spending the day in San Fran, where we will no doubt take more photos of the Golden Gate Bridge and tone up our ta-tas walking up and down this hilly heaven.

Ciao for now. xo