I know what you're thinking.
There are a lot of things a responsible, respectable girl should be doing with her time off.
I should be plotting my next big adventure in the real world. I should be applying to every job that I'm even remotely qualified for, I should be writing sample syllabi, I should be catching up on the world of environmental anthropology. I should be figuring out what I want to do, whether it's keep fighting the good fight with environmental education or return to grad school where the opportunity to do fieldwork among oil barons and hippies exists. Heaven knows I dream of returning to Alberta.
I should continue to be the ultimate in devotional aunt-nannies, smothering my nephews in joyful affection and making sure they become the next generation of good men in the family. Perhaps give them a head start on long division or Shakespeare.
But instead, I pushed all guilty thoughts out of my head and went to the desert for five sun-soaked days with my wonderful and accommodating cousin and her husband. Even though they live in Phoenix, I was able to see enough of the state to gain healthy respect for the desert and appreciation for those who choose to live there, and also had enough down time to feel the flow and vibe of the big city.
It goes without saying that the landscape of Arizona is drastically different than the Midwestern views I'm accustomed to, and I found the first day or so rather disorienting. It's hard to explain, but it seemed the utter unfamiliarity caused me to lose my sense of place, and I had to quickly learn to become familiar with alien surroundings.
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| Oh boy. Saguaro skeletons. That's new for me. |
Generally, "sense of place" refers to one's connections (physical and emotional....mainly emotional) to their physical environment. Studies from the realm of environmental pyschology find that people are calmer and heal faster in more natural settings (e.g. hospital windows that look onto a park or a stand of trees, taking a walk through the woods when feeling stressed, etc.), they also find that experiences early in life affect your preferences and ideas on what kind of nature you're comfortable in. For example, I grew up in a prairie state, where trees exist but not to any significant density, and as a consequence I've never really been comfortable in heavily forested areas (I can't
see anything!). Sense of place also is used in reference to how people orient themselves, familiar wildlife equals more orientation and therefore more comfort and less panic.
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| Mississippi River. Familiar. No panic. |
Case in point, I'm a somewhat reliable naturalist in the upper Midwest, and a good guesser in the southern ranges. Common trees, mammals, a handful of reptiles, the charismatic arachnids, a fair amount of raptors and most summertime songbirds that prefer riparian landscape I do pretty well with; none of which are found in the parts of Arizona that have escaped urban sprawl.
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| Cholla. Unfamiliar. Cause of confusion and distress. |
What am I getting at? Those who engage in culture studies who find themselves in far flung locations confronted with unfamiliar language, customs, and people often develop "culture shock." In the desert, I was surrounded by familiar people and customs, but I was overwhelmed by a completely alien ecosystem, whose "language" I neither understood nor spoke, and I could not find a familiar foothold anywhere. I had nature shock. Upon arriving in a small airport outside of Phoenix, I was immediately confronted with a palm tree (last seen by my eyes in 2006 in southern California) and then a Saguaro (never seen by my eyes before). Nothing, absolutely nothing about the landscape was familiar. The trees were all wrong, either they were much too short and scraggled with thorny branches that seemed to be trying to grip the air with gnarled arthritic fingers, or they were much too tall with too much going on in the way of bark, and both lacked proper continental leaves.
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| Palo verde |
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| Ocotillo. I'm told it's very pretty when it blooms. |
I did not notice how much it bothered me at first, soon after leaving the airport I was at an
In N Out Burger (animal style), and then safely within the concrete, stucco, and tile world of the city. I learned the next day I would be going down to Tuscon, where my hosts had friends. We were going to lunch, then to the
Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum for a crash course in desert wildlife, and then to dinner. *Giddy fast clap of hands*
The next day, the nature shock hit me hard. I stared out the window for the two hour drive to Tuscon, trying in vain to make the landscape familiar. Everything had thorns, spines, spikes, and were in general too sharp for endearing words. After seeing a smallish tree with serpentine branches that, to me as I flew by them at 70 mph, looked to be covered in fluff, perhaps something akin to dandelions when they go to seed, I asked what it was called. I was told it was a kind of cholla, a cactus, and that the downy fluff was in fact hundreds of sharp, white spikes.
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| Not fluffy. Opposite of fluffy. |
The plants came in same palatte of colors as desert camo. However, I'm told things are much greener and more lush than usual because it rained two months ago.
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Tonto National Forest/Last Dutchman State Park/Superstition Mts/Basic landscape
outside of any city in Arizona. |
The giant Saguaro bewildered me, as I was convinced nothing that large and commanding could possibly be real and grow wild, it must be some tossed-away invention of a plant scientist who was neglected and bullied as a child and planted purposely by man.
As I became aware of the fact that I could name exactly three things (Saguaro, cholla, and palo verde) in this teeming, and quite diverse, desert, my unfamiliarity grew into discomfort. It grew into uneasiness when I realized I had no knowledge of desert adaptations. It ballooned into distress when my wandering mind landed on the question of what the threats to the conservation of the Sonoran were, and I could only guess. For someone who has claimed conservation education is her passion, and most days the natural world is the dangling carrot in front of my nose, this gaping lack of knowledge was extremely uncomfortable.
Luckily, while visiting the beautiful home of my hosts' friends, who are as it turns out
Tuscon's top entertainment attraction, I was able to see a fishhook barrel cactus close up (thing I could name #4), and was one step closer to learning the land. After spending time in the perfect 70-something degree sunshine gazing down on the city from the foothills from their patio, we drove into Tuscon to
Mariscos Chihuahua, a Mexican seafood restuarant.
I will take a moment here to both explain, and express my affection and gratitude towards my cousin and her husband in regards to their culinary tastes. They are of the adventurous sort when it comes to food, and I was happy to entrust my tastebuds to them, and I was never disappointed. This is not to say I never had misgivings, and certainly never let on that I've never been a fan of seafood. I live in the Midwest, good seafood is hard to come by, and even then freshness is questionable. But now I'm in Tuscon, a good deal closer to the ocean than Kansas, Missouri, or Wisconsin, and I was bound and determined to give my stomach an education as well.
And what a happy surprise! I DO like seafood! Ceviche (the scariest for me, and yet so lime-zesty fresh it was a bit sad to move on to the next plate of food to sample), marlin tacos, and the finishing delight: Camarones Rellenos
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Shrimp, surrounded by cheese, wrapped in bacon. This is
why I stopped being vegan. |
After lunch it was on to the Desert Museum, where we spent four hours hiking around and I never had a dull moment. The following are highlights:
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| Long-spined Prickly Pear |
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| Hohokam Agave |
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| Leopard frogs |
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| Desert Bighorn Sheep |
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| Thurber Cholla |
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Very healthy looking black-tailed prairie dog. Twice as big as the
ones that live next to the highway here in Htown. |
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| Elf Owl, snoozing the day away |
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I have no idea what kind of hummingbird this is! I think it's a female...Anna's? Calliope? Costa's?
It was quite small, even for a hummingbird, so I'm saying Anna's until someone
corrects me (please). |
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| Beavertail cacti, though I would've named it something different. |
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Did I mention I got a new camera for Christmas? THANK YOU MOM AND DAD!
Magnificent Hummingbird on its nest! |
The highlight of the highlights is no contest. Not even seeing a hummingbird on its nest could compare. The Raptor Free Flight is a twice-daily program featuring a family of Harris hawks (or if you prefer, Harris's hawks). These hawks do not sit demurely on the padded arm of a trainer, but soar and swoop and dive and perch on Saguaros as they were born to, even if it means swooping and diving through crowds of onlookers. As we walked up, we heard an announcement asking people to please refrain from raising their arms above their shoulders, and if you have children on your shoulders you should take them down lest the hawks decide they are a prime roost and attempt to land on them.
The close proximity is of course, slightly artificial as the birds had to be somewhat trained to not simply fly off into the sunset. I'm sure professional nature photographers who stake out in camps for weeks and spend hours sitting in the same spot waiting for even the chance to see birds like this, let alone be able to snap pictures, will sneer and deem the following photographs inferior. To them, I give apologies and respect, to the rest, I hope these photos get you as amped about hawks as I was while watching these amazing creatures swoop above my head and stare at me in such a way that shrinks the ego.
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The Driftless is, in my mind, an easy place for my soul to be. The small forests, prairie remnants, sluggish backwaters, and rocky bluffs are alive and the trees whisper idle gossip as they slowly soak up the groundwater, and seem almost pleased when someone comes by to admire them. The Sonoran is majestic to be sure, but this was the first ecosystem I have encountered of such ethereal beauty that, I felt, cares nothing for human activity and has little use for us. Even the plants strive to thwart you at every turn (with names like Shin Dagger and Crawling Devil), and each living thing had its own weapons for enforcing the unspoken rule of Keep Your Distance.
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| I kept my distance |
Like others before me, as I walked through the desert landscape, wary of stray spikes and scorpion stings, I felt myself develop a deep reverence for the things that call the Sonoran home.
After we left the Desert Museum, we met back up with our friends and went to
Cafe Desta, an Ethiopian restaurant that is in the running for one of the most memorable meals of my life.
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"The Works" at Cafe Desta. Everything tasted so good, even now I
couldn't possibly pick a favorite! |
The next day was Thursday, and I consider it my Phoenix Culture day. It began with a trip to the famed
Trader Joe's, with its aisles of fresh produce, cheeses, breads, organic gourmet frozen goods, eclectic snack section (hello, plantain chips!), and chocolate bars sold in "Pound Plus" packaging.
That afternoon, my cousin showed me how to distill essential oil from bitter oranges, which are so common in her neighborhood we could walk around with our Trader Joe's bags and pull them off of trees (though apparently there were far fewer oranges on the trees than anyone can remember, with no explanation for why they have disappeared). The bitter orange looks and smells exactly like a sweet or navel orange, but tastes more like a lemon. We peeled them, chopped up the peels (along with some lemon peels from lemons collected from her lemon tree), and set up the distiller.
Science, ahoy!!
While waiting for the oil, I got another crash-course, this time in the world of essential oils. I got to mix my own perfume (a blend of lavender, cedarwood, and neroli) and the base for a sea salt scrub. I felt very pampered indeed!
That evening I was once again subjected to my hosts' extreme generosity: dinner at swanky and delicious
Province, and a musical, Daddy Long Legs brought to us by the
Arizona Theatre Company
Friday's highlight was the ninety minutes in
Lee Lee's Oriental Market, which may in fact be the largest grocery store I've ever been in period, let alone the biggest international market! It's huge, and has everything from live seafood to pork brains, from sake to passion fruit soda, from fried shrimp snacks to plantain combo extract for the prostate, fresh taro and the most colorful bakery I've ever seen. And let's not forget
durian, the big spiky fruit that smells so horrible that it was kept in its own freezer away from other produce. I have been told it smells like a rotting corpse, and since I had made up my mind I was going to try it in some form, I decided it would be best if I did not open that freezer and take a whiff. The flesh of the fruit itself was said to be very mild, akin to almonds and faint hints of pineapple. I had my choice of processed durian: jams and jellies, juice, popsicles and ice cream, and I eventually decided on a durian rice cake. It was...okay. Like my cousin said, you eat it mainly so you can call others a sissy when they turn up their nose.
Friday was also the day I tagged along when my hosts went to pick up rent from the apartment building they own. It is located in a cul de sac of similar buildings, and driving up to the cluster felt like you were coming into a small soveriegn town. The residents on this block are nearly all Hispanic, with a handful who speak English. The smell of tortillas poured through every open door (open doors!) and at least a dozen kids were running or biking around, shouting and laughing in Spanish. I met the tenants, who showed the utmost hospitality and kindness and soon found myself playing a version of peek-a-boo with two little girls. Language barrier be damned, I felt like I had come home! I could've stayed on that balcony forever, laughing with those beautiful little girls, listening to the banter of the men below us playing pool on a pool table someone had set up in the yard, and watching as the kids swarmed to meet a legit ice cream truck. Soul-soothing.
The only thing more relaxing than a miniature barrio at dusk is waking up the next day to blueberry muffins and bacon (and fresh Americano), and putting on my shoes to go for a short foray into the nearby
Superstition Mountains.
Our first stop was quite unexpected, and quite wonderful.
The Superstition Mountain Museum not only provided us with maps, but also the legends of the mountains (specifically that of the
Lost Dutchman who gives the neighboring state park its name), and an eclectic gift shop that offered jewelry, an immense collection of books, local authors and artists, prickly pear candy (yes I bought some), and Saguaro seeds (bought those, too). Not to mention a very friendly workforce! I would highly recommend other passers-by to stop in and check it out!
We opted not to go into the Last Dutchman State Park (too much camping traffic) and instead headed into
Tonto National Forest...
....and hiked around for twenty or thirty minutes, though I think if we had allotted more time (and more water) we would've stayed longer! By this time I was out of my nature shock, and felt quite at home walking up the rugged "path" ever closer to the famed mountain. The weather was perfect, the sun was on my face, and I made believe the cholla were pleasantly expecting my arrival and purposely stretched their needley arms higher so I could take their picture.
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| Hello, friend |
And then there was the mountain itself, and no picture could do it justice.
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| Superstition Mountain |
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| Proof I was there |
What to do after getting your exercise in the desert? Go to
China Magic Noodle House of course! Located next to Lee Lee's, it features hand-pulled noodles (and a big window through which you can watch said noodle-pulling) and huge portions! I had the veggie fried noodles and they were by far the best noodles I have ever had the pleasure of eating! But are you surprised? Nah, you can't go wrong with fresh noodles.
My last night in Phoenix coincided with game night, and my hosts hosted more of their friends (all witty, intelligent, laid back, welcoming, and downright cool people) for dinner: grilled escolar, grilled eggplant, wild arugala salad, fried rice, chocolate caramel tarte, chocolate caramel matza crackers, and sake. So so delicious! It's been several days now and my mouth is salivating just remembering that meal! A thousand thank yous and a heaping plate of gratitude to my cousin, her husband, and all those who made my visit so wonderful!
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From my cousin's backyard patio. Some send flowers to show appreciation,
I post pictures of flowers they already own. |
Of course, all things must end, and on Sunday morning I was driven in the dark back to the same airport I arrived at, and back to the same Saguaro and palm tree that had so befuddled me five days before. The last gift Arizona gave me before I boarded the plane in the chilly morning weather was a spectacular sunrise over the mountains that illuminated the few scraggles of clouds still lingering in the sky.
The reverence for the desert that began a few days ago in the somewhat controlled nature park increased tenfold by the time I reached the Superstitions. Beyond the fenceposts there is a desert with infinite and intricate workings: adaptations, co-evolutionary relationships and connectivity that are barely comprehended by our feeble and biased human minds. I willingly admit my newfound knowledge and experiences only scratch the surface, but I can at least admire and respect the hell out of it. To be sure, you can be free in the desert, if you survive it.
