I've successfully gotten my kicks.

Much to write about, much of it too much in the personal diary vein to be appropriate here, I think. I've recently completed my move to Oakland, California. Although perhaps that "completed" is a bit premature. The studio apartment we're currently renting month-to-month in the Laurel district has a bit of a flea problem, so we won't be staying long. For now everything is in storage except two suitcases, two plates, two cups, and a pot and a wok, plus an air bed and two sleeping bags. We have no internet so I'm posting this from the local Whole Foods, but we spend our days reading newspapers, playing cards, looking for work and exploring. Yesterday I spent the day at Baker Beach in San Francisco watching dolphins, starfish and a lone seal cavort in waves that humans aren't allowed to swim in for fear of drowning.

It's a cliche, but people are different here. I saw a nude man on the beach with a red parrot on his arm and a dog smaller than the parrot at his feet. A circle of women took turns disrobing and bowing face-down into the waves while the rest of the circle chanted, clapped and shook maracas. There is a man in my apartment building who looks like Samuel Beckett and talks like a toothless prophet, only about things like parking and bicycle tires. Our next-door neighbors have 6 marijuana pots in their backyard, partially shaded by an American flag. Plants are different as well; succulents are no longer for pots, but take the place of grass on the small urban lawns. Palm trees abound, as does every variety of eucalyptus known to man. Adjusting is fun and feels a bit like vacation. This will probably be the case until my cash runs out.

Our road to California was more or less the all-American Route 66 path, with some detours. Several minor disasters along the way (camping during a monsoon in New Mexico, a gallon of paint losing its top and turning the back of our truck my favorite gray, the loss of my iphone and nearly running out of gas in the Mojave) kept the vibe a little less than jovial, but it's funny how time changes things. Even the day after a let-down, I would find myself looking at videos from the day with a sort of nostalgia. Scratching my myriad bugbites with almost wistfully. To be sure, a great many good experiences took place, including a rare glimpe of the Milky Way from atop an Arizona peak.

But the most striking thing - and I this really struck me as we were eating a terrible lunch in a 1950s themed diner - is how the whole Route 66 experience had been gobbled up by THE ROUTE 66 EXPERIENCE. The best parts of our journey were the little discoveries made by mistake, not the cheesy "Indian Gift Shop" stops or diners that routinely served food that barely passed for such and called it "The Big Bopper Special". Scrambled billboards and rusted out Buicks dot the landscape as much as cattle, and there's truly a feeling of not visiting the past, but visiting something that has passed. I'm not sure if I'm able to communicate this properly yet. As soon as I have the capability, I'll upload some photos that will hopefully express it better than I can.