Overall Review of Attractions, Accommodations, and, Restaurants;
Most Enjoyable and/or Memorable Moments;
If Trip were Taken Again, What Would I Do Differently;
The migratory ibis finds their next meal in marshed-out farmland in Buckeye, Arizona.
Alright, so it isn’t a real challenge. Yet. But in a nutshell:
In a dozen or so, short days, June will begin to bake Arizona in a daily maximum temperature between 102 and 106 degrees Fahrenheit (about 40 centigrade), according to Current Results. The hottest it has ever gotten in the Phoenix area was June 26, 1990, when it reached a fever-pitch of 122 degrees Fahrenheit. As June turns to July, who knows how hot it will get.
Now here’s the challenge: I’m going to attempt to survive these high temperatures after lived in two, relatively cool, places: New York and Colorado. According to Google, the July average max and the record highest temperatures in these locations are respectively 85/106 and 92/100. As I begin to write this first installment in this first series, I’ve never had to experience such temperature as those Arizona threatens, and I’m already wiping sweat from my face and neck.
Buckeye, Arizona, United States of America
Photo Gallery and More coming in Late August, Early September following this particular Trip. Until then, here are some Quick Facts About Buckeye:
Quick Facts
From Wikipedia:
Buckeye is a city in Maricopa County, Arizona and is the westernmost suburb in the Phoenix metropolitan area. The population was estimated at 68,453 in 2017.[5] It is one of the fastest-growing cities in the US; in 2016, it placed seventh.
The canal for which the city, then town, became legally named in 1910.
Early settler Malie M. Jackson developed 10 miles (16 km) of the Buckeye Canal from 1884 to 1886, which he named after his home state of Ohio’s moniker, “The Buckeye State”. The town was founded in 1888 and originally named “Sidney,” after Jackson’s home town in Ohio. However, because of the significance of the canal, the town became known as Buckeye. The name was legally changed to Buckeye in 1910.
In 2008, Buckeye was featured on The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer as part of a week-long series entitled “Blueprint America.”
A vote to change the town into the City of Buckeye became effective in 2014.
In November 2017, media outlets reported that a company associated with billionaire Bill Gates purchased 24,800 acres (100 km2) between Buckeye and Tonopah for $80 million. Gates’s company plans to create a “smart city” called Belmont on the site.
Geography
Buckeye is located approximately 30 miles (48 km) west of downtown Phoenix.
According to the United States Census Bureau, the city has a total area of 145.8 square miles (377.6 km2), all of it land.
Climate
Buckeye has a hot desert climate, with abundant sunshine due to the stable descending air of the eastern side of the subtropical anticyclone aloft and at sea level over the southwestern United States. Summers, as with most of the Sonoran Desert, are extremely hot, with 121.0 afternoons reaching 100 °F or 37.8 °C and 181.6 afternoons getting to 90 °F or 32.2 °C. The record high temperature of 125 °F (51.7 °C) occurred on July 28, 1995, and temperatures above 86 °F or 30 °C may occur in any month.
Notable people
Upton Sinclair (1878–1968), author of The Jungle (1906), The Fasting Cure (1911), and others – Late in life Sinclair, with his third wife Mary Willis, moved to Buckeye, Arizona.
Overall Review of Attractions, Accommodations, and, Restaurants;
Most Enjoyable and/or Memorable Moments;
If Trip were Taken Again, What Would I Do Differently;
The SD/TJ Border from San Ysidro.
San Diego County, California, United States of America (“SoCal”)
Photos
From Yuma, I set out to continue my quest to challenge myself with the same distances and tribulations of those refugees seeking asylum in the United States today. Yuma, AZ / El Centro, CA
El Centro, from Yuma, I was halfway to my goal. I was heading to San Diego. El Centro / San Diego, California
When I had finally arrived in San Diego, I was closer to National City, San Diego Cty, California. From there, my first order of business was announcing my arrival to the friends that I had planned to visit. Visiting the first on Imperial Beach. National City / Imperial Beach, California
After visiting my friend who was preparing for Naval Deployment, my next goal was to photograph the Border. Imperial Beach / San Ysidro, California
If only things had remained so simple. The “Tee-Jay” Border, unlike Arizona and New Mexico, was a hot mess of activity. However, not the activity that many would expect. San Ysidro / Otay Mesa West, California
I had no idea that the fast and furious nature of all SoCal residents, both housed and homeless, was about to impede my comfort with this portion of my adventures. Otay Mesa West / Harborside, California
Worst out of all of the impeti to my sojourn up the West Coast, began here at this particular Walmart located beside a, seemingly, nice park. Harborside, San Diego Cty, California.
For multiple days, I was without my main map, without my backup, and at this point, tired, hungry, annoyed, and worst of all: Lost.
Finally, and just in time for service for Divine Mercy Sunday, the Second Sunday of Easter, I had found respite at the Good Samaritan Episcopal Church in Torrey Pines located just outside of the University of California, San Diego campus.
After days of travelling northward without much direction, and in much duress, up hills and mountains, I accepted the “Divine Mercy,” shared in the Episcopal and Catholic services, broke bread with the Christians, and enjoyed coffee at the local caffeine refuel station. Torrey Pines, San Diego Cty, California.
Once regrounded, I headed back northward. By the looks of my map here, I had flown. If only this were the case, because, finally, I was beginning to tire. Torrey Pines / Del Mar, California
From Del Mar, I explored the beaches, as far northward as Cardiff (-on-the-Sea), before I called it quits on this particular journey. Del Mar / Cardiff, California
From Cardiff, however, I had to still head north, because I was dead-set on moving forward, and never back. So somewhere after San Elijo and Carlsbad, near Oceanside, I head eastward to make my U-Turn. Cardiff / Encinitas, California
From Encinitas, I had made my way south, and then southeast, towards Rancho Santa Fe.
Elevation had caused me to rethink my plan though. Rancho Santa Fe / Solana Beach, California
Somewhere along the way, I had made a very interesting friend and travel companion. At first, I wasn’t trusting, because at this point, I had ground out most of my interpersonal patience. Solana Beach / Torrey Pines, California
My travel companion was a great friend however briefly, but he was merely heading to the City of San Diego, I was planning to make my way to El Cajon. And I did. Torrey Pines / El Cajon, California
Finally, I was heading closer to home. El Cajon, CA / Buckeye, AZ.
Wind Turbines create safe, clean, green energy between California’s Manzanita and Campo Indian Reservations.
Upon first arrival to San Diego, the city, a Mallard Duck, poses for a photo for me in Childrens Park. San Diego, San Diego Cty, California.
In the evening hours, an Allen’s Hummingbird visits a Bird of Paradise Flower for dinner. Torrey Pines, San Diego Cty, California.
Stylized La Jolla Shores at Sunset. La Jolla, San Diego Cty, California.
Unknown Red Plant. “North County,” San Diego Cty, California.
Unknown Red Flowering Plants with Yellow Flowers. “North County,” San Diego Cty, California.
Pink Roses. “North County,” San Diego Cty, California.
Unknown Tree Leaf shaped like a clam. “North County,” San Diego Cty, California.
A single ray of light, peeking through the clouds, graces a flotation device shaped like a flamingo. La Jolla, San Diego Cty, California.
Over 750 ft above sea level, Mt. Soledad National Veterans Memorial. La Jolla, San Diego Cty, California.
Plants silhouetted by the setting sun. San Ysidro, San Diego Cty, California.
In the top left, a Mexican flag waves in the breeze as a Border Patrol pickup truck can be seen in the bottom right. The San Diego-Tijuana Border. San Ysidro, San Diego Cty, California.
Yucca. Torrey Pines, San Diego Cty, California.
Purple Allium. Torrey Pines, San Diego Cty, California.
A lonely lay of tracks lies beside the tide of ocean waves. Del Mar, San Diego Cty, California.
Behind Scripps Clinic Urgent Care, a crow proffers fleshy dinner to this hungry vegan from perched atop a sign reading, “Day Surgery Patient Pick-Up.” Torrey Pines, San Diego Cty, California.
From the back-streets between Alexandria Tech Center, Torrey Pines, and, of course, Torrey Pines Golf Course. Torrey Pines, San Diego Cty, California.
From the back-streets between Alexandria Tech Center, Torrey Pines, and, of course, Torrey Pines Golf Course. Torrey Pines, San Diego Cty, California.
From the trails on Torrey Pines Park Road, adjacent to Torrey Pines State Beach. Torrey Pines, San Diego Cty, California.
From the trails on Torrey Pines Park Road, adjacent to Torrey Pines State Beach. Torrey Pines, San Diego Cty, California.
Train tracks thru Los Penasquitos Lagoon, adjacent to Torrey Preserve, and, across from Torrey Pines State Beach. Torrey Pines, San Diego Cty, California.
Hot Air Balloon over Rancho Santa Fe. Rancho Santa Fe, San Diego Cty, California.
Unknown Flowering Plant. “North County,” San Diego Cty, California.
Hot Air Balloon over Rancho Santa Fe Golf Course. Rancho Santa Fe, San Diego Cty, California.
Hot Air Balloon over Rancho Santa Fe Golf Course. Rancho Santa Fe, San Diego Cty, California.
Liliaceae. “North County,” San Diego Cty, California.
Overall Review of the Trip and Travel Agency:
No travel agency. No Bookings. No AirBnB. Not even Couchsurfing. No Uber, no Lyft, and, except for those really risky situations, no thumb extended into the road.
I set across the southwest from El Paso, TX not only as a miniature vacation for myself, because everything is a dumpster fire in the United States, but also as a touch upon doing whatever I could manage to do as a broke, single, lone, white trans female Millennial under 25. Because while the entirety of the United States is, more or less, a hot steaming pile of Buffalo Patties at this current moment in history, there are people who have suffered great distances, losses, and disappointments, especially upon arriving here, in order to escape, possibly, somehow, worse conditions. And here I was thinking I would just travel and self-educate while finding temporary work along the way in order to maintain a consistent digitally nomadic lifestyle that attempts to seek out news and other ways to add positive realism to the environment of information today which is widely propaganda alone. How privileged!
If I were a vacationing me, vacationing through the southwest using this vacation service ran by me on vacation, well, it wouldn’t be much of a vacation at all. Typically, someone or some organization that plans vacations for vacationers, would plan, well, I don’t know, vacation stuff. Things such as the vacation’s attractions, the vacation’s accommodations, and the vacation’s restaurants are usually planned out well in advance of said, multiple times, vacation.
While, yes, I did find myself some attractions along the way, and many photo opportunities with birds and beautiful flowers, these were completely unplanned. In fact, to be clear, nothing was planned at all. The only thing that was planned, was practice, self-discipline, and that p-word, that means you don’t give up, and instead of being honest with yourself about the magnitude of the undertaking, you risk your own undertaking to be that s-word.
Oh yeah, persistence. And, stubborn. Or if you prefer: Pointless, and, Stupid.
But hey, if I were a vacation planning organization in and of myself, while also on vacation, without overhead, or the funds to cover any head-over-water situations, to be fair, I didn’t do too badly by selecting myself as my vacation planner for my vacation. Because as I said, I’m more broke than the political system of the United States of America.
So that in mind: Great job! Would… not select this vacation planning organization, which is just me, under it’s current management, which is just me, or it’s current management style, which is just me. And if you know me, you know, I don’t have style. Also, if you disagree with that last sentence, thank you, I love you, please shower me in similar or further endearing compliments, I like that, it makes me feel warm — oh wait, that’s the desert, anyway — that’s great, please comment that compliment in a complementary comment below these comments. Thanks!
So yeah, great job, me. I set out to do a thing, and you know what? I did it! And I didn’t die!
Desert. Highways. Junkies. Animals. Mother nature. And random acts of fear, loathing, and violence. All of these things, and I didn’t get fleas, mosquito bites, amoebas, leeches, lions, tigers, bears, gila monsters, rattlesnakes, scorpions, or jackalopes. Coincidentally, I also didn’t get sick, I didn’t run out of my oral hormone replacement medication, and I didn’t think about suicide, much.
I’m still alive. Unharmed. Not attacked. Not assaulted. And aside from a few shitty white bros driving by, wasn’t even harassed. Wow! Am I lucky? Have I really been blessed by God? Is there some relative, deceased, and just bored enough to watch out for my dumb ass? No.
The truth is, this shows more that I’m privileged. Privileged enough to feel some sort of comfort in this racist nation, and yes it is, don’t fight me on this, we’re still dealing with our own original sin of slavery while the world grapples with the nationalist, separatist, and altogether common issue of identity and its politics. And privileged enough to pass through a country that straight up attacks and murders people of color, because I’m pretty freaking white for a half-Puerto Rican with blue eyes, and yeah, English is my first language.
So as far as vacation planners go, I did pretty well, vacationing through my vacation service which was just me on vacation. Because while most of the accommodations were national parks and few and far between friends’ pads, and restaurants were grocery store produce departments, McDonald’s’s, Taco Bells, Circle K’s, and the rare, and most definitely unplanned, vegan restaurants, and, attractions were just “oooo pretty flower,” I did pretty well with myself as a vacation planning service for myself. And here’s why:
I’m fairly attractive, or so I’ve been told, even by normative standards, let alone the standards my trans community struggles to uphold for itself as a way to respect everyone in their transition in a country, and maybe frankly, world, that does not make it at all easy to live as a transgender individual. So that helped a lot in just passing under the radar. Pun intended.
Not only that, but because we value and make so many assumptions about attractive people, there was rarely a doubt or concern from anyone that I had met. Not about safety, besides being assaulted, or attacked by animals, but rarely ever a blink of an eye at financial needs, friendship, or anything like that.
To be honest, safety and basic needs aside, I was asked far more often about my sexuality and presumed need for companionship. Presumed, because I’ve always felt quite alone, and the open road, was actually a really welcome distraction from my anxiety, depression, and fears of being alone forever. Yeah, I’m totally okay with being alone by choice, than being randomly alone. Not too different from how Americans would rather risk their lives for some, even banal, reason, rather than die randomly without cause.
TL;DR: I did well in selecting myself for the services created by myself in order to be provided to myself. I would rate myself, a solid, and totally fair, 9.9/10. I would not recommend these services at this time, but as the service provider also suggest paying me a large lump some before hand, and deny my own non-recommendation as I recommend that everyone try my services at an exorbitant and astronomically ridiculous cost.
Overall Review of Trip’s Attractions, Accommodations, and, Restaurants
Attractions of note here include: the ocean, Mt. Soledad, flowers, hummingbirds, roadrunners, Saguaros, and many many sunsets. Oh, and the Border. The Border multiple times. That was… awful and depressing, but mostly boring. It’s… for the edginess: a Wall. Boring. 2/10
Accommodations, such as my sleeping bag, which I only purchased while passing through Tucson, trees and large bushes, as well as beautiful sandy beaches and breezy deserts under the starry Arizona skies, were undoubtedly remarkable. In fact, this was probably the most beautiful part of the entire experience, in addition to seeing firsthand the decency of strangers. Not to be confused with those moments when I saw the indecency of strangers. It would be offensive to pigs to call these people pigs… 8/10
Restaurants… Did I not cover this embarassing fact enough already? I’m vegan, so maybe I wasn’t clear. I ate coffee, coffee, and more coffee, when I got to California. I stopped at a couple places that were more than accommodating such as Craft Burrito Co. in Del Mar, CA, and the Daily Jam. I recommend both.
However, if you’re vegan and broke, but still can somehow manage to spend greater than or equal to $5 a day on a small meal in between fasts, I do not recommend McDonald’s, but… wait for it, Taco Bell. Their order kiosks are easy to use and the prices stay about the same everywhere, so you can always order that bomb ass burrito with black beans, rice, and veggies for under $2. Stop at grocery stores and buy emergency Larabars for under $5, at most notably, Walmarts, and on the third day, buy a gallon of water. Fast your ass off, lose over 20 lbs like I did, and wow, a vacation that you get a tan and toned body from. Fantastic!
Now if you’re a coffee fiend, you’r in luck! Most local cafes have free refills, because they rule. However, McDonald’s also does this. Starbucks on the other hand, where you would pay about $2.75 for a large, or venti, coffee, charges $0.50 per refill. Great WiFi tho!
Finally, if you’re just too broke to afford food and too American to stand fasting, or, morals, but have a phone that lacks only the data well here’s a pro-tip: Find a Food Pantry or Food Bank! Can’t find one? Well, you, with the lack of ethical fortitude to simply fast instead, are in luck. Hospitals stand by a “do no harm” Hippocratic Oath, and most acknowledge that if you look homeless, calling the cops on you for “borrowing” food from the cafeteria would do more harm than good. So yeah, why volunteer on a farm and learn valuable skills in exchange for food, when you could just grift it.
Above that shit? Even better! Subway always has that bread and rarely ruins it with broiler grease like Burger King, and from my observations, you know, just passing by, they look to often keep their dumpsters unlocked. So check that out. Good luck being your own vacation planning service, although I recommend just using my own choice service: my own service… once it’s in service. 4/10
Most Enjoyable and/or Memorable Moments
While I met a lot of incredible people, sometimes literally incredible, the most memorable and enjoyable moments of my trip were those I managed to capture in photographs, seen above. As for the memorable, well, those were rocked by the people I met along the way. To respect them, I’ll leave this section at that; check out the above photo gallery.
If I were to take this trip again, this is what I would have done differently, and why:
If I were to take this trip again, I would get a few friends together and go by vehicle, either car, RV, or bus. I would certainly still choose to sleep outside under the stars, but once in a while use Bookings.com and share a room with my friends. Then we would probably follow the Pacific Coast Highway 101 all the way up the coast, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and then cut into the state towards Weed and up to Portland, Oregon, and Seattle, Washington, being sure to hit every trail along the way.
Thursday, I set out from Yuma, AZ towards San Diego, CA. I crossed the Colorado River, and rested under the shade of a bridge along the highway before I stepped back out into the 100°F sunshine, into California.
I was out of water not a mile down the road. I had placed my gallon down on glass or something. With an arm accustomed to the weight, and the setting sun in my eyes as I followed the Kumeyaay Highway, I hadn’t noticed my water was nearly gone.
A sip here, and another sip of hot water after a couple more feet, there wasn’t much liquid left to leak through the accidental spigot. The universe, God, luck, whatever, was on my side. Up the road a white pickup was in the shoulder with its hazards blinking.
An El Centro amateur local historian, and heir to the family paint business, had pulled over. Under normal conditions, I wouldn’t have accepted a ride, but the nearest stop for water was behind me by a couple of miles, to return to the same stretch of desert, and I was too stubborn for that noise. The way he introduced himself was far classier than most male passersby, too so he must’ve been some sort of angel.
“You shouldn’t walk along the highway, it’s dangerous!”
“I’ve been walking since El Paso, I’m pretty used to it.”
“Where are you going?”
“San Diego.”
“I can take you as far as El Centro.”
As we passed strange landmarks, such as the so-called “Center of The World” and stretches of sand dunes, he had knowledge for every mile.
“That’s an original staircase from the Eiffel Tower,and the guy that made this place is still alive around here somewhere. At least I didn’t hear that he passed.”
It looked like some sort of bunker or haven for the rich that you would see in an Illuminati conspiracy documentary. From the pyramid building, to the name, to the Google Maps image it had with its Church on the Hill, it gave me the jeebies.
What an auspicious name. And so close to Easter and Passover. Fun creepy stuff is easily imaginable. Apparently there’s a maze up there too? Not for me!
Then there were the sand dunes. My new historian friend informed me of all the celebrities who filmed there. This, of course, included the iconic scenes from Star Wars on the planet Tatooine.
When we landed in El Centro, we said our greetings goodbye and we went our separate, merry ways. Thanks dude.
The excitement didn’t end there however. The next day, yesterday, I had met a couple and their adorable baby dog, Baby.
The couple had been traveling for years, from the East coast, and had settled for a spell in El Centro after receiving cancer treatment in California. They also were gifted a baby, not suited yet for travel, I’m the worst way.
Baby was a rescue. Barely a pocketful, someone had asked if they wanted a puppy, and without stopping his car, the man had thrown the newborn to them from his car. Ever since, Baby has been cherished and protected by these young nomadic millennials in their late twenties and early thirties.
The good ones too often have little, while those that have a lot tend to be blissfully unaware and without generosity. Here is an example of what I mean:
I’ve been traveling for miles and the few people to offer food always had little. Yesterday, a man from the street pushed his cart up to where Baby and the gang plus me were seated and chatting. Someone with a heart had given the man from the street more food than he could eat, so he offered it to us.
While I wrote that beggars must be choosers and while I may be vegan, if someone were to offer me the fruits of their labor in say a dish with meat, I would oblige them insofar as to acknowledge the value of the cost and labor involved. In this case, a man from the street was sharing his dinner; I could not deny it knowing that it would go to waste.
Needless to say, it was the most I’d eaten in about a week or more, and definitely allowed me a pleasant rest. I thanked the innumerable lives paid for that meal, and slept well in knowing that they were not given without due respect in spirit.
Today, I travel on to as close to San Diego as I can get, still a hundred miles away.
This Phoenix-area brunch location is opening new restaurants around the country. That’s not all, their delicious vegan and vegan-ready breakfast, brunch, and lunch meals are set to expand today!
I’m excited to see this place take off. I need more vegan brunch spots! Check out what I got in Phoenix earlier this month:
This last leg of my trip to Yuma was made possible by the good graces of Danny. He was more than generous. Also he was a really fast, fun friend to make along the way.
I had just walked down the road from Gila Bend to Interstate 8 towards Yuma. Danny felt a spiritual call, and he pulled over when he saw me. He just so happened to be passing through Yuma on his way to Mexico to visit family.
Danny considered himself a real Mexican regardless of his citizenship. Although other Mexicans would see him as a Chicano, he considered himself a Pisa. He was proud to be a real Mexican.
I enjoyed this part of our conversation the most because I hadn’t heard the term, Pisa, before. Besides, the last two rides that I had accepted were both from older people. So, naturally, it was relieving to relish in our shared experiences.
It was not only pleasantly validating but an empowering moment we shared. While we both came from very different backgrounds we both saw the reality, the situations, the struggles faced by our generation. We weren’t alone.
On the way to Yuma, we discussed everything from education to unemployment and the current federal government to #LegalizeIt.
While the United States is not openly and explicitly corrupt there are a lot of issues happening in this country as there are in some Mexican states and Central American countries. Some may believe that the blatantly violent corruption of those far off lands is a stark juxtaposition to the United States. I would argue that none of my friends of color, or those that have seen small town corruption and nepotism in action, would agree.
We of course changed the subject once it got too heavy. We talked about the environment, love, what things make us anxious, and God.
Danny helped remind me to refocus from taking in the sights and sounds — some of the reasons that I had started out in El Paso to begin with. So when he departed towards his home, he had left me at the door of the Yuma Community Food Bank.
So thanks again, Danny.
When volunteers at the food bank saw me, they saw my pack first. They saw my traveled appearance and my trusty gallon of water.
Usually, these are the trappings of someone seeking assistance. However, this time, surprise washed over their faces as I said, “I’m here to volunteer.”
Hands for labor and a mind to help.
Yesterday, Friday afternoon, right in the nick of time before they closed, I wrote my name on their registry and made a commitment. “I’ll be back here on Monday, when you open at 9 a.m., to volunteer until July.” About three months of service.
At first…
When I started backpacking from El Paso, Texas to San Diego, CA, my intention was to photograph the Border, the nature, and the happenings around it, as a fundraiser.
I didn’t want the project to come off as some sort of “white savior” mission. So at first, I tried to embrace the adventure as my own and the fundraising as tertiary.
I wanted to raise money to donate to organizations that were helping asylum-seekers. At first, it was solely about helping organizations that were doing the work — at arm’s length. Organizations such as Amnesty International and Texas RioGrande Legal Aide, have been helping these refugees either jump through the hoops of citizenship, or those of asylum.
At the very least, I wanted to dispel the misinformation that, not only perpetuated racism, but further endangered these people. I wanted to put my own advocacy journalism on top of this issue, laying out the facts in my own archives. Then, drawing on that original knowledge-base, work constantly on breaking through the haze.
Beyond that, I needed to chip away at the blinders of misinformation. Because those blinders don’t solely exist in front of the eyes of those looking at immigration policies. Those same blind eyes turn their gaze upon the world.
The world that I always wanted to live in is a meritocracy. The opposite paradigm of the current administration. A direct democracy built on progressive ideals. Not simply a Democratic-Republic run by corporations, but an inclusive democracy governing in the best interest of every individual.
But more on that later.
The Humanitarian Crisis
From reading out of curiosity, I knew on a basic level, some of the real reasons behind the massive humanitarian crisis at the border. This journey began from that as a fact-finding mission to create original articles dispelling the lies from the President’s right.
I knew that a Wall in the desert, currently growing to 30 feet tall in Yuma, was not the answer.
Sister Cities.
However, since first leaving El Paso my laissez-faire opinion had changed. There was another way to show people real solutions, but unfortunately it didn’t dawn on me how it could be done until I got closer to Phoenix. That’s when I read a report from the Arizona Republic.
Nonprofits were calling for volunteers in Yuma. Border Patrol had given the organizations a day’s notice that they were to release detained migrant families. However, in massive numbers, and without guidance, migrant families were going to be left to the desert, rising racism, and no resources.
I left the library on a secondary mission.
“Meh,” has more or less, become the new religious chant in America.
There’s always a reason to be inactive now. The comfort and distraction is real. And in a way that scares my hopes for the future.
That fear drives me more than any FOX News commentators’ fear-mongering, because it may be stronger than the desire to help others.
I didn’t want to succumb to this “meh” anymore than I wanted to continue finding comfort in insecurity. “Who is John Galt?” Right?
This and my growing discontent with the circumstances of politics and journalism today, tied with a deep need for a feeling of complete freedom, got me on a bus from Denver, CO down to El Paso in the first place.
From that decision, I found the lifestyle of being a digital nomad nearly fulfilling rather quickly. Prior to this, I had practiced disciplining my vegan diet and my fasting. Now, living the nomadic lifestyle every day is a new adventure.
My desire to see a better world for myself, and my imaginary future family, was not satiated however.
Once again reforming my vision, I had left Phoenix towards Yuma’s refugee response. I needed to get closer to what was happening, not just report from arms-length as I passed through.
From this, yet another, a third, vision has emerged.
I saw that what my project was doing could go farther with a hands-on approach.
Protecting new Americans and those seeking peace here, was not enough to keep them protected from another dictator, another gang, another Trump.
As much as I don’t know, I’m exceedingly confident that I know enough to be optimistic and steadfast in my ideals. Some would even say that I may be more aware of the world than most. And I’m still optimistic!
Isn’t that what we all need? Maybe most of all, refugees need a hopeful examination of the world from an American perspective. A perspective of democracy built on freedom and amendments to our shortcomings.
Still, that sounds a bit too much like a white savior mission, no?
Even looking at the Yuma organizations making a difference on this issue, there’s an underlying philosophical cornerstone that a lot of Americans, especially my generation, can’t completely work beside.
Is it the nonprofits, or from which directions we come to find them?
Perhaps a third party, a digital nomad volunteer group could act as partners to orgs such as the Catholic Community Services of Southern Arizona, the American Red Cross, and the Salvation Army Social Services.
In addition to volunteering with these orgs, that’s my next mission.
I want to create a nonprofit that not only educates future digital nomads but inspires location independent newsrooms around humanitarian crises, human rights, and a better democracy.
Hopefully, connecting teachers, nurses, first responders, and journalists to better policies, better politicians, and better politics, can create a better world.
The blue needs you.
If you’re in the Yuma area, come find me. Consider volunteering with some of these great organizations. And if you like my nonprofit idea, leave your comments below.
To be clear, I don’t consider myself homeless. Yes, I’m a digital nomad, don’t know where exactly I’d call home, don’t own anything larger than can fit in my bag, and am riding the poverty line like a mechanic bull, but I don’t consider myself homeless. I’m a digital nomad.
The world is my home. So right now I’m just exploring the other rooms to see what my roommates have done with the place. I don’t have much but what I do have is outweighed by my hope that my home can be an open house filled with friends that care for friends of friends of friends of Kevin Bacon.
So as I was been walking, taking photos, what cash I’ve had, I’ve given to the homeless. There hasn’t been many, at least not until I got to the Phoenix metro area, so when I finally ran into someone with a sign that read, “hungry,” I’ll be the first to admit that I was judgemental.
America creates a lot of food waste. I’m vegan. There’s better places to post-up for change.
All these things swirled in my mind, until I stopped them and took a good inventory of them. It also helped that I watched a young couple of color not only go up to the man and eventually take him out for lunch, but they spent a good amount of time with him.
This made me stop and reflect deeper. I’ll admit, I was ashamed that I had thought about someone else’s position from the standpoint of my own. This person doesn’t have to be vegan, although I believe it’s a healthier and more spiritually enlightening diet. Maybe he was allergic! Maybe he didn’t want to be that guy digging through the freegan section for a half eaten burger. I mean, really Brienna. I was hoping to make up for those thoughts with what change I had left when that nice couple took the man away. Now I had no way to atone for the thoughts that stopped me from helping that man.
With another mile behind me, I came across an older man of color, a veteran, in a wheelchair. Hallelujah, I could repent! I gave him my change intended for the previous man and felt better, but not completely.
I walked another mile. By the freeway stood a man beat red from the sun with only a sign and a bag. I had no change now. I was begging for another way to help this man on the side of the freeway.
I had water.
“Would you like a water?”
The man seemed surprised. Too often people can’t stomach the effort to dig a little deeper in their wallets for change. How many of them had water and didn’t even offer him such a vital resource. The eagerness of his nodding was the answer.
Finally, I had really felt a sense of atonement. It made me question what it meant to help other people. Perhaps I could have asked the Hungry Man if he knew how to fast. Perhaps I could have taught him something that would have helped him. Or perhaps he was as thirsty as the Thirsty Man.
So why can’t beggars be choosers? Because helpers need to be better askers. Asking how you can help someone is far better than imposing your version of helping onto others. If I could go back in time, I would have walked up to that man and asked, do you like Taco Bell? I would’ve found a way for us to split a vegan plate of nachos, loaded with protein.
Why can’t beggars be choosers? When I’m walking and people read me as a homeless person, they offer me things. Beggars must be choosers. I wouldn’t accept a ride from a single male or group of men. I wouldn’t take up space at a soup kitchen or other service that belongs to someone in need. I wouldn’t accept a plate of meat from someone because I’m hungry. I wouldn’t spend the night with a stranger. And I certainly am not interested in giving you head or an old fashioned.
Choice is important. Choice, even though we can’t always control where it comes from or know the causality that brings us the option, is freedom. To say that “beggars can’t be choosers” is to say that along with not having much in the way of possessions, wealth, or food, that someone in such a position should have no freedom as well.
Coming to that conclusion gave me pause. Who would want to take someone else’s freedom away? Surely there’s a minority of people with their own predelictions to this end but I have hope that the 99%, the great majority of not only Americans, but the world, feels this way.
At least that’s the sense I get. Education, culture, tradition, etc., aside; does this seem true to you too?
A waterfall of questions splashes the once-calm, reflecting pools behind their eyes.
“Where do you sleep?”
“How do you eat?”
“Do you hitchhike?”
“How do you pay for things?”
Everyone wants to know how they can be so free. How they can take their lives in both hands, as I have done, and travel the Earth as if it were all one giant community park. How they can escape the constant burnout and find fulfillment and meaning in their lives without the call to prayer or struggle for social justice.
I’m sure too, that in some way it seems a sort of return to roots, in a religious sense, leaving it to God and returning to Eden. Maybe for some it seems zen or something a Boddhisatva would do. For me, although in a way meditative and more peaceful, this isn’t at all my reasoning.
Strangers ask, “what does your family think?” I reckon they think the same about it as most people do: it’s antisocial and lonely, more or less homelessness, and downright different to a degree that’s recognizable. Dare we say; dangerously different.
I’ve always stuck out as unique and strange, among friends, family, and the majority of my peers, so as far as antisocial and lonely goes, I can’t say it’s a radical change for me. I always felt alone and misunderstood. At least now I can practice making myself understood in multiple American dialects.
I’ve made a lot of new friends as well, so, Ha!
Per the homelessness portion of that, there’s a lot to unpack there, and a much larger conversation about that topic to be had. There’s a lot of stigma around homelessness; period. To be clear, I’m camping and staying with other people who have travelled similarly, I don’t consider myself homeless, but maybe houseless.
To that also: I did my research before heading out and created a route. I track the weather, plan for resting, and follow a number of rules of my own in order to make it safer to rest, fast, be vegan, and walk hundreds of miles. I also downloaded a couple useful apps in addition to reaching out through Facebook groups.
First: Facebook groups. As a trans woman, I find other trans women to be immensely supportive and a good place to start in said groups. Basically, seek out your community wherever you’re going. Seven billion people live here; no matter what, you’re never alone. Find your religious sect, your brand of feminism, or, goodness, if you’re a Nazi, find your party.
Only after I’ve done what I could to find accommodations, etc. in my community did I download these apps. Start with your peers or community regardless of how you feel, you’ll feel a lot better with a reminder that you’re never alone.
Now, those apps you can download: Couchsurfing and Travello. The latter is still growing but it’s a nice way to meet fellow travellers before reaching an area, plus — is this a plus? — the creators are like Tom from Myspace, they’ll be the first to add you.
Couchsurfing on the other hand, I can’t recommend enough. It’s had more gestation time than Travello, for one. For two, there’s a lot more people actively using it.
There’s an initial membership fee for most of the services I’ll mention, but most if not all are very useful and completely worth the annual or one-time fees. In another article I’ll go into more detail regarding all of these services.
Before that, I must mention Wwoofing and HelpX. They’re both great places to look to to exchange accommodations and food for labor. Volunteering is a similar route, but may be less hands on than you’d like unless you’re working with a relief organization such as Habitats for Humanity.
That aside, you’ll find it’s pretty easy to pick up temporary work almost anywhere. A helping hand is often rewarded, even if you don’t want to be. However, plan ahead for those times that you’ll need the cash, plan a place to stay, and inform employers before they hire you, that it’ll be temporary in nature. Thankfully, and unfortunately, many entry-level positions are insecure jobs and only part-time, making much of your competition spread finely
That last point, as well as a discussion on this lifestyle’s difference from others, will be the subject of a future article. In that subsequent piece, the financial insecurity of today will be parsed out in regards to this. Spoiler alert: financial insecurity is more common now than cows’ milk in grocery stores.
What’s stopping you from living well and living well within your means?
They always reply the same when I tell them that I’ve been walking since El Paso, TX.
However, this response makes me stop and think; is crazy not doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?
Walking across America is far from doing the same thing over and over again. Each mile, unless you’ve walked it before, is a new one; each flower, insect, bird, animal, and person, is new; every photo or conversation from it, is fresh.
Nothing is done over and over again when you do it this way. The people, the places, the languages. All of it changes with each hectare.
In this way alone, it isn’t crazy to do. Besides, people work day-in, day-out, drink, eat, and sleep, relatively the same each and every day. A great many may wrongly expect that they’re secure in this routine.
Yet, if one were to ask almost anyone in America today, if their home, family, and employment, are secure without a doubt the response would be: “no.” The insecurity is obvious when passing through any town and city. So how many would say that they’re safe from the inequity of the American economic system? Again, none.
These questions don’t need to be answered; we see today that mental health, gone without care, is as detrimental as cigarettes. Depression grows rampant in every community but the statistics are harder pressed to those struggling with income, housing, or friendships. And to this last point, we find ourselves less surrounded by friends, and more surrounded by faces and followers; more alone than ever as our world focuses on polarization.
So what’s really crazy? Reading the horrors of reality online and doing nothing, hoping that it will be proven false, or magically resolved? Maybe even, ignoring or shutting out these facts?
Or is it crazier to attempt reducing one’s need for the goods or services aggravating these issues while searching for another way through? While documenting what’s still here. While searching for solutions. While limiting opportunity to be a perpetrator of accidental harm.
I obviously chose the latter. It seemed less crazy to try something new, something scary, and try to be a better, more self-reliant person. Especially compared to the insecurity of today, it seemed like the sensible choice compared to doing the same thing over and over again.
Here, I want to point out what’s really crazy, who’s perpetrating the insanity, and how we can collectively see to our mental health, metaphorically, as well as in the most absolute reality.
When they say “that’s crazy,” I’ll be sure to hold up a mirror before replying: “Perhaps, but how much compared to what you see here?”
The highway is dark, barely illuminated by the waxing gibous moon as I walk it alone. In the distance, coyotes howl. My pace picks up as the hungry cries grow louder, nearer. This was the last time that I would be caught on a dark road in Texas by myself.
“Why are you doing this?”
Most people would be wondering, “what made you leave wherever you were and endanger yourself?” These aren’t the people straddled with debt and soft skills, of course, they have families, homes, and property. They have a life somewhere, and wouldn’t immediately understand seeking life in the world and outside of these bubbles.
Our bubbles are the most separating piece of our lives. It informs our politics, our religions, and our relations. Some linguists, such as those familiar with Sapir-Whorf would even venture to say that their language and culture not only creates this bubble, but strengthens it.
We see this happening in politics and religion most clearly now, and especially as populist nationalism grows around the world. This sort of tribalism can make any place dangerous for what can be deemed other. Couple this with the neverending stream of missing or murdered backpackers, and it can be quite clear why people ask me in such shock, “why are you doing this?”
I’ve always felt like other. With fill, with friends, in school, in church; you get the picture. That was before I began to transition too. So now that I’m openly trans, 25, very left-of-center, and whatever else may set me apart, I’m finally finding peace in being or feeling so different.
There’s something about feeling hundreds of miles under your feet. Something about backpack tan lines. Reusing rainwater. Eating what grows from the earth. Falling asleep beneath only the stars. There’s something to this kind of freedom.
This kind of freedom doesn’t have a bubble. You learn people are mostly good and that they all want to be loved. You learn that everyone you ever met was key to who you are today.
People can change over time, because with enough patience and kindness, their bubble gets worked around new ideas. That doesn’t mean I try to change anyone. In fact, I do just the opposite, I try only to understand their views.
“What if plants had feelings?”
Not to say that I didn’t try in the beginning. Tell me the Earth is 10,000 years old, climate change is made up, and that we should be okay with eating animal people because “what if plants had feelings,” and you could of easily gotten my goat.
Now I only listen. I don’t just soak it in though. I get acquainted with their logic. I try to understand which directions peoples’ hearts are taking them.
“What is freedom?”
I want to be able to see the world safely. Who doesn’t? So the most important thing to do first, is research.
I did my research before travelling, but if you’re staying in the United States, the best research you can do is ongoing: interviewing people about their opinions, views, beliefs, and whatever else drives their decisions.
Ultimately, we all have immense power, whether that’s as a creator, as a family unit, as an individual, as a voter, or as a congregation, or something else, our words, actions, and decisions all have lasting impacts.
So I set out from El Paso, TX to complete my trek to the Pacific as a photojournalist. Taking photos as I go, prepared for whatever event or situation may arise to be documented, I ask decision-makers, individuals: what is freedom?
Brienna Parsons 