Cultural Explorations

On Friday night, I decided that I needed a little bit of culture in my life. After a year of pilfering from all of my Indian coworkers' lunches, I promised them that I was going to learn how to cook their spicy, exciting, vegetarian dishes. Although I could probably survive for the next few weeks on a stable diet of grapefruits and girl scout cookies (both tasty treats that are ripe and in season in Arizona), on Friday night I took a step towards broadening my culinary horizons. I walked into Lee Lee's Oriental Supermarket as the ONLY blonde haired blue eyed girl that has probably been in there in months, maybe ever. I hadn't realized how many Japanese, Chinese, Filipino, Korean, and Indian people lived in the greater Tempe area, but I think that they were all shopping there that night. I was able to find my guides, Mini and Srinath, as they were picking out bitter Indian squashes in the produce department. Ever since we returned from the ocean, I still find all grocery stores amazing. Just the amount and diversity of food overwhelms me after two months of the same macaroni and cheese. And if I thought Safeway was fun, it had no comparison to Lee Lee's. There were fruits and vegetables that I didn't even know existed, much less tasted, rows of tanks filled with several kinds of seafood ranging from catfish to crabs to octopus, meats and parts of animals that I didn't realize people ate, an entire refrigerated aisle of tofu, and aisles and aisles of every spice imaginable. If my stalwart guides had not been there to show me the way, I would have been miserably lost. They gallantly led me to the Indian section of the market, where I picked up mustard seeds, cumin, dhanajiru powder, garum masala, sooji, and all the fixin's to make fine, simple Indian meals. And a box of Wheatabix because I've never seen the infamous British cereal anywhere else in the States. Yum. I will keep you all informed as my talents blossom or fail miserably. Either way, it will be interesting, I am sure. I kept the cultural theme going strong the rest of the night. Megan had just recently returned from her own adventure in... let's just say an adventure abroad somewhere south of Florida. She is an AMAZING photographer, and had a party showcasing her talents. The slideshow of over 300 photographs (she took over 3,000, but only showed us the best) made the old, beautiful country really come to life, and since Megan also works at REI (dividends came out this week, woohoo!), there were MTBers, whitewater kayakers, and other adrenaline junkies in attendance. The combination of good photos, good people, and good rum kept the stories flowing freely all night long.

Saturday sucked. The weather was miserable, we broke the other three axles on the Jeep, we had flat tires left and right, the scenery was ugly, we got attacked by rattlesnakes and bobcats, and the bike trails were in horrible condition. We should have stayed home on the couch and watched TV and written blogs all day. If you have recently had ACL surgery, please stop reading here. You don't like reading my long blogs anyways, so go back to Guitar Hero and tell someone to grab some more ice... Ok, you know I'm lying because the only time I ever get flat tires is with a certain O of ODP, but I'm not completely wrong about the trail conditions. Read on at your own risk, ye of wounded knee.

For everyone else who has the ability to go out and play in the wild Arizona outdoors... why didn't we see you out there? One of the things that I really don't understand is how some people can live their entire lives within the city limits and never explore the incredible wonders that lie just beyond their doorstep. Angel and I headed out Saturday morning to our favorite town in Arizona for some mountain biking. I had never been to Prescott in the winter/spring so I wasn't sure what the weather was going to be like, but the day turned out to be absolutely perfect. It took a lot of willpower to keep us from turning into the Lynx Lake Recreation Area for a ride on our favorite Trail 305, but we decided that the world was much too big not to explore more of it, and we continued north past the town to Granite Basin. Neither of us had ever been that way, but when we stepped out of the Jeep and breathed in the crisp, pine scented air, we knew that we couldn't go wrong. After consulting with the map and taking in the beauty of the coniferous forest, we strapped on our helmets and took off on Trail 345. I'd heard great stories of the trails around the area, but not even a quarter of a mile in, I started to have my doubts. Rock gardens and sand/mud pits were the rule, not the exception, to the first part of the trail. I lost count of the number of times that I crashed into my handlebars in the first few miles, and my pelvis was less than amused. What the first few miles lacked in trail conditions, they made up in scenery. Sunlight streamed through the pines as we biked along between the towering boulders of Granite Mountain and the gurgling rapids of Mint Spring. After about five miles, the trail opened up to a wide plain with a commanding view of the surrounding mountains and valleys. It would have been a great ride if it wasn't for the cavalry of horses that must have come through before us. The trail was so pock marked with divots that as we rolled down a gentle hill, I thought that my arms were going to rattle off. I can't even imagine what Angel was going through without any suspension at all. We had gotten our fill of the equine plain after a mile, and turned around to try and find some real mountain biking trails. My bike fared a little bit better than Angel's, and by the time I got to the end of our horse trail, Angel was far behind. While I waited for her to catch up, I began talking to two older guys that had also been biking along the trail, hoping that they could give me some insight as to where the "amazing trails" that I had heard about were hidden. Although they didn't know too much about mountain biking, they did know the entire history of the area. I was fascinated to learn that Granite Mountain and the surrounding peaks are very sacred areas for many of the Indian tribes in the Southwest. Many of their important ceremonies and rites of passage were performed on top of the mountain, and the hills are full of petroglyphs and ruins of their old camps. By the time that Angel had caught up to us, I had a new respect for the land in which we were traveling. They told us more stories about the archaeological importance of Prescott and Arizona in general, including the legend of how the Hopi came into the world. The legend behind the sipapuni has fascinated me since the first time I heard the story when I was a kid, and hearing it again only made me want to visit the sacred spot in the Grand Canyon even more. After we had gotten our fill of the rich history of the land, Angel and I figured that even though the trails might not have been what we (ok, at least I) expected, we could make up for it with exploring. The guys pointed us in the direction of some petroglyphs, and we took off towards the opposite side of the mountain. After about a mile, we hid our bikes and bouldered our way down to a massive slab of flat granite that was etched with dozens of drawings. I read way too much as a kid not to be fascinated with the petroglyphs. It was like taking a step back in time. From our vantage point, all you could see around us was wilderness, as it would have appeared to the young Yavapai on his way to becoming a man. Snakes, scorpions, lizards, and bighorn sheep were carved into the rock along with other symbols depicting stories of the native peoples of Arizona. Sitting on top of the rock, you could feel the history of the land come to life as the wind whispered through the pines and the rustled through the grass. I'm normally fairly skeptical of vortexes and energy and such things, but the area certainly did have a special, sacred feel to it. I'm not sure if it was the fresh air or amazing views or just the adventure of it all, but you couldn't help but feel more alive out there. Angel and I continued to explore around the base of the mountain for the next few hours, bouldering up and over the piles of smooth granite, hopping across and back over Mint Spring, and crawling through the cracks in the boulders to find the source of the dozens of springs that flowed into the main creek. We could have spent the entire weekend climbing all over the mountain, but after a few hours, we extracted our bikes from their hiding places and headed back towards the lake, the canyon wrens providing a soundtrack to our ride. The trails that we took back (347 and 351) were much more pleasant than the first one, and we actually got some speed on the packed singletrack. After a full day out in the beautiful wilderness, we went back to town, busting through the swinging doors of The Palace saloon to get some well earned grub. The burgers and history of the place were both incredible. After one last stop at the world's best smelling coffee shop on the square, we reluctantly headed back to the Valley. Although the day was absolutely perfect, peaceful, and awe inspiring, I had to balance it with something wild and noisy, so I joined Jeff down at Crabby Don's for some live music in the evening. Kaura is an alternative band from L.A., and though the lead singer was a bit arrogant, his voice was great, and the music was really good. Overall, an amazing day.

On Sunday, Kohl and I took a trip out to Saguaro Lake to scope out some places for potential triathalon training (Tara really wants us to compete in the Taupo Ironman next year, and I am considering it at the moment as my next adventure). The drive to the lake itself was incredible. Although I've only lived in the desert for a year and a half, I was awed by the lush colors that lined the normally gray and brown desert along the highway. There were greens and purples and golds as far as we could see, right up to the foothills of the Tonto National Forest. When we got to Butcher Jones Recreation Area, we were already overwhelmed with the beauty of the desert in bloom. Hiking in it was almost too much for us, our eyes feasting on the colors that seemed to explode exponentially with every turn in the trail. The entire hills that under normal circumstances would have been barren with the exception of cholla were completely covered in a blanket of green, with Mexican gold poppies, lupine, and blue dicks adding bright patches of yellow, purple, and blue to the palette. Even though it was only about 70 out, I still took the opportunity to swim around the lake at the end of the trail. My arms went numb with the cold, which made my paddling a little bit difficult, but it was certainly refreshing, and the Arizona sun had me warmed up in no time. We spent the afternoon hiking up and down the flowery hills, taking tons of pictures, and just flopping down in the carpet of green, knowing that in a few months time, all of it will be a dried up desert dream. For now, though, it couldn't be more beautiful.

In the evening, I took one last opportunity to get some more culture in my life by fixing my first ever meal with tofu, compliments of my visit to Lee Lee's. I was pretty skeptical at first when I was cutting up the watery, flubbery soy curd, but my stir fry turned out brilliantly, so I really couldn't complain. It was probably more of a result of the hoisen sauce than my tofu cooking techniques, but nevertheless, Matoba (my Japanese mentor) would have been proud. It was a great way to end an incredible weekend, and now it's on to "cultures" of a different variety... I've got some agrobacterium colonies and ICON cultures that are actively producing proteins in my plants, and that should keep me busy until next weekend's explorations.