week five: a desert a day.

Mar 20

You can find my “Weeks Three + Four” post here.

“It’s my birthday week” was all I could think. June 14 managed to creep up on me every year, and I never really knew how to celebrate. I realized how much I wished all of my friends could be with me to celebrate in a few days, but I was excited to be with Kathryn and unwind after the long drives we had ahead of us. What bewildered me was the fact that I had left home on May 15—a month had already passed me by, and here I was in the middle of the country, still chugging along. I was enjoying every minute of it.

Staying in ASPEN, COLORADO would’ve cost us a fortune—a fortune I didn’t have—so Kathryn and I found an Airbnb in GYPSUM, COLORADO, about an hour away from my next interview. There had been nothing notable about our stay in Gypsum. We stayed in a very large, sparsely decorated house with an industrial kitchen. Parts of it looked like it hadn’t been touched in months. There were other parties staying in other rooms, but we only ran into someone when we did some laundry. The main door was troublesome to lock and unlock. We were happy to be on our way. The drive flew by and pretty soon we were on Main St., in a beautiful town tucked between mountains. It was hard to miss Explore Booksellers, and we were able to park right in front of the old Victorian home, greeted by the barking of dogs.

Explore Booksellers

ASPEN, COLORADO

Tucked into the mountains, Explore Booksellers offers a colorful collection of new books in Aspen, Colorado. Operated out of a Victorian-style home, Explore is a charming stop no one can avoid passing by, and surely no one can resist walking into. Although it may appear small from the outside, there are several rooms with elegant furnishings inviting you to sit down, and bookshelves offering any book you could think of.

How would you describe this bookstore in one word?

“Quaint. I think a lot of people would walk in—I mean, it's just, it's old. It's dark wood, oriental rugs. It just screams quaint.”

Being the only bookstore in a town that is increasingly losing any traditional, independent businesses to big names like Gucci and Balenciaga, Explore is championed by the community for surviving and adapting to change over time. “People think of Aspen as glitzy, furs, and skiing—which it is—but it also has this really rich tradition…” said Jeff Bernstein, director of programming at Explore Booksellers. “Smartness, intelligence, diversity… this place is about that and we try to service that.” With such an intellectual community, Aspen is sure to have some eccentric folks coming through—and it’s Jeff’s job to find these folks and give them a platform at Explore, to give back to the community in some way.

“I was just talking to this woman,” Jeff said. “I met her in the park. She's an artist. I said, ‘hey, how would you like to come do this thing in the bookstore?’ And then we got to talking about this guy who's… he's summited Everest three times and his wife is a watercolorist. And she did an event here at the bookstore recently. Anyway, I get to go around and talk to these—Aspen is just full of really interesting people.”

Relatively new to the job, and with the pandemic causing mayhem to in-store programming worldwide, Jeff is hoping to bring members of the community into the store to offer talks in an ongoing series of events. I have no doubt that Explore will be able to accomplish this and more because from how it seems, everybody is rooting for this bookstore.

Aspen is home to an environmentally-conscious community, a sizeable population of wealthy folks, and a consistent stream of tourists. The folks in this town don’t need 2-day Prime shipping when they could easily get it as fast from Explore, and the walk down Main St. and into the charming space offers the value of a unique experience in and of itself.

“Businesses wanted it to stay here because they know what it is and they don't need to see another space-age, cool-looking glass house here,” Jeff said. “They have plenty of them. They only have one of these.”

Jeff was reading…

*I Can Take It From Here: A Memoir of Trauma, Prison, and Self-Empowerment,* by Lisa Forbes

After we headed out from Explore, when I could settle into the car, out of my extroverted “interview” mode for a moment, my body suddenly felt hot. I panicked a little, because getting sick on the road—especially with COVID—had been a concern of mine before leaving. We decided to stop by the local pharmacy quickly and buy some rapid tests just to be on the safe side. Thankfully, the tests came back negative—twice—and by the following day, I deduced I had just been dehydrated. Still, the thought of me potentially having unknowingly spread sickness to someone, having to restructure my calendar, and potentially skipping interviews made me anxious. Kathryn was incredible at helping me feel calm, and soon I was back to focusing on just drinking water regularly and making sure I was taking care of myself.

Fortunately, we had some time to stroll through town and take in the fresh air. And that was pretty much all we could do. All around us, Club Monaco, Prada, Gucci, and Balenciaga populated the streets. We found our way to the most affordable brunch spot in town and even there, at Poppycock’s, I felt a bit out of place. That didn’t stop me from destroying the delicious waffles I ordered, though. On our way out of town, Kathryn and I witnessed a parade of old, fancy, expensive cars driving around the city. They just kept coming and coming, drawing some eyes and some more phone cameras. We also managed to run into Jeff on the street, which made me feel warm inside. It wasn’t like the hot, potentially sick feeling from earlier, but just how nice it felt to just causally be bumping into someone I had just met in a town I had only been in for a few hours. It was probably a bit silly, but the idea of just knowing people countrywide has always made it feel a bit smaller and cozier to me.

Anyway, we drove out of town following a route a kind staff member of Explore had suggested. We raced against the Roaring Fork River, past signs marking trails and natural sites now and then until we couldn’t help but stop—a man in front of us had been cruising on his motorcycle ever since we had left Aspen, and it was making me a bit uneasy to have to focus on him so carefully. We decided to pull over the Grottos at White River National Forest where we stretched our legs a bit on a short hike up to a waterfall and massive boulders sheltering any icy cave. Kathryn had given me her sorority cap to wear as I’ve been having a bit of a bad hair day. Both of us peered into the grotto from above with other travelers, sure it was as treacherous as it was quiet down there. Of course, there was one man attempting to make his way down into the cave, but I couldn’t be there to watch him hurt himself, so we left after we got close to the rushing waterful. Three hours of driving later, in the middle of nowhere, we arrived at Great Sand Dunes National Park. “Great” is an understatement, I thought as we splashed through a small pool of water in the sandy terrain next to the parking lot. A very strong and steady wind was wildly whipping our hair around and I noticed an actual tumbleweed roll past us. In front of us were magnificent, rolling dunes much, much, much larger than I was anticipating. Next to us, families sat in lawn chairs by the large, shallow puddles, as if on a beach. Many were walking slowly towards the dune like we were about to. In the distance, the people were the size of ants in comparison to the mountains of sand. Speechless, I couldn’t help but take out my phone to take photos of everything I saw, even video-calling my mom. If I had to articulate what I felt, it was as if I wasn’t in the United States anymore, but some country far away was famous for its arid landscape because there was no way this was in the same U.S. I knew. But the point was that I was in the United States and our country is so big that it can’t hope to be familiar to everyone, everywhere. I spent quite some time over the next five hours thinking, as the lowering sun flipped the colors of the world, bringing an orange hue to the sky, and a cool blue shade to the desert. I thought about how I would love to return to the breathtakingly beautiful outdoors and captivating bookstores I had visited in Colorado with my family someday, as we approached SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO for the night.

We had arrived at our stay later than we had originally planned, so it wasn’t until morning that we could take in our surroundings better. I had noticed that we’d been driving through a lot of deserts, but there were nuances—they didn’t look the same in every state. There was a different desert every day. Either a noticeably different color, with less vegetation, or more rocks.

Our Airbnb host had generously put on a pot of coffee in the morning, which I helped myself to before we freshened up and hit the road again. Our only goal for the day was to reach TUCSON, ARIZONA, by the evening. Kathryn ate an easy oats breakfast as I drove us into town so we could see some of Santa Fe before having to drive for several hours straight. We first stopped at a local mall, which housed what seemed like a warehouse with a labyrinth of books—a store called op.cit. books. I found a paperback that called to me, and checked out, still looking around as I paid for the book, my eyes noticing something new each time. “Look out for the moon,” the bookseller told us as we were leaving, explaining the upcoming strawberry supermoon, or “honey moon,” that would take over the night sky very soon.

Afterward, we parked closer to downtown, the buildings began looking a lot more uniform. They were very cubic, but smoothly rounded on the top edges, and generally an orange-brown color. We walked into a bookstore I remembered seeing in my research before embarking on the trip. Collected Works Bookstore & Coffeehouse looked just like what you’d want your family-friendly neighborhood bookstore to look like, with all the usual sections and a coffee shop nicely laid out in a comfortable space. I wasn’t satisfied just yet, though. We drove just a little ways further to another bookstore I had noticed on my map, but this wasn’t a typical bookstore. Photo-eye Bookstore offered an incredible selection of photography collections. The front entrance room featured a gallery, and a woman kind enough to show us around, excited about my project. I looked through some of the books, on the tables, not wanting to touch the beautiful wall-to-wall display of books arranged in white, square cubbies. Photography was something I wished to learn more about—from a technical standpoint first, and then as a creative medium offering limitless experimentation. I signed up for their newsletter and bought a little photo book called Simplifying My Library: Episodes of Backward Shelving, ed. Federico Antonini, capturing bookshelves on every page. What really made my day was the woman working at Kakawa Chocolate House next door. She seemed over the moon to see us. As I sipped my rich drinking chocolate, Kathryn and I chatted with her about where we were headed next and about the documentary project. She had to pull up a chair and I think I could’ve spent the afternoon chatting with our new friend, over a cup of chocolate, exchanging ideas of my hopes and dreams with hers.

*The full, Strawberry moon visible in the Tucson sky.*

The rest of the day passed us by, hour by hour, outside Lola’s windows. As we drove through HATCH, NEW MEXICO, Kathryn and I both realized we were in the town with the famous chiles, and we brought the drive to a momentary halt at the sight of the Hatch Chile Express. The fragrances inside were intoxicating, and I immediately called my mom, who I shared a love for cooking with. I showed her the bundles of chiles hanging from the ceiling like stalactites. She told me to get the medium-spice green chile powder because she hadn’t seen it before. It would be over a month before I could give it to her. Kathryn and I took some photos in front of some 20-foot-tall statues of very animated men holding random objects, oblivious to what significance they held. We didn’t stop again until Tucson. After we had moved all of our stuff into our suite, the sun had begun to set, and the green trees were suddenly just black silhouettes against the indigo sky. “Look out for the moon,” the man in Santa Fe had said. We didn’t miss it.

The next day was June 14. My birthday. Kathryn led us out to a nearby trail and I started the day off with a refreshing hike through the cacti of the Arizona desert. Of course, we had to visit some bookstores on my birthday. We parked downtown and strolled for a bit, first stopping at Antigone Books. I had reached out to them a few times to get in touch about the documentary because they were America’s first solar-powered bookstore, and woman-owned. But for some reason, we weren’t able to figure it out. I was still glad to have visited though. Unique, handmade signs, quirky furniture, themed-display tables, and books of every genre were sprinkled between the purple walls at Antigone.

I had been getting messages from friends and family since last night, and I missed them all dearly. It struck me while I was thinking about my boys, my old high school friends, that I hadn’t been to any comic-book stores on this trip. I rushed into Heroes & Villains, the wrap-around shelves with the latest issues of comic books against the walls and the selection of table-top games and mini-figures all very familiar to me. At that moment, I wasn’t in a town where I knew no one, but in a space with extremely passionate folks: comic book nerds. Kathryn made my day by going halfsies on a rather expensive collection of essential X-Men comics I had always wanted. One of the employees at Heroes & Villains suggested we check out Bookmans next. Tucson had multiple locations around town, and so we went to the nearest one, spending quite some time in what felt like a city block of bookshelves and games and movies—essentially a labyrinth of entertainment. We ended the celebrations by going out for sushi. This was a birthday for the books!

Unfortunately, Kathryn’s time with me was at an end, and she would be continuing her travels elsewhere. It had been a unique pleasure to travel with her over the last week and a half. She had gone from not having listened to folklore, by Taylor Swift, to being obsessed with the album in a short amount of time. We said our goodbyes at Departures, wishing each other safe travels at the Tucson International Airport, and five minutes later I found myself at Arrivals, picking up another friend who wanted to join me for some time on this project—Georgia. We excitedly screamed and embraced in disbelief that the time was finally here. I remembered us chatting about this day at her graduation party weeks ago as if this moment were some abstract concept at the time. And now? Now we had quite the day to get started with.

As we caught up over how the past few weeks had been, I drove us through Saguaro National Park so we could see the really tall cacti that one typically sees in photos of the Arizona desert. Our goal was the reach FLAGSTAFF, ARIZONA, by the evening so we could set up camp while there was still light out. The journey there allowed us to stop at Casa Grande Ruins National Monument—a site preserving remnants of the farming people’s community in the Sonoran Desert—before parking in PHOENIX, ARIZONA, for lunch. I hope you don’t take it lightly when I say I had the best burrito of my entire life at Casa Corazon Restaurant. Nothing would ever be the same again. All of that aside, I remembered Adam Vitcavage from Tattered Cover mentioning I had to visit a certain bookstore if I was going to be in Phoenix at any point. Before heading out of town, we decided to stop at Changing Hands Bookstore, which also housed First Draft Book Bar. Right before we entered, we were hit with one of those “Hi, um, I help people register to vote…” While Georgia explained that we were from out of town, I got distracted and I had a sort of revelation. If I had my own bookstore one day, I would love to take some pages out of their book. No pun intended. The inside of the store was pretty massive. Imagine taking a medium-sized health food store and gutting it out. The floors and ceilings were very reminiscent of that. There were so many aisles of books with products from local businesses and artists that spoke to what this community created and valued. Countless little plaques stuck out from the shelves, diverting your attention to staff picks all over the store. On the other side of the store, a very neat bar and an open area with many tables and counters to sit at took over the space. It was simply beautiful. I wanted one for myself. People love to clown on folks who read books at a bar, but there was nothing remotely wrong with doing that here. I’d have to thank Adam later for his recommendation.

*Our campsite outside Flagstaff, Arizona*

About two hours later, we arrived in SEDONA, ARIZONA, and I had another one of those silent experiences that I had in the Rocky Mountains, where it took me a few minutes to just take in the beauty around me as we drove through, unsure of how it could exist in the same country I had lived in for 22 years. The most vibrant red boulders and towering landmasses surrounded us, inviting our eyes to dance around frantically. I couldn’t stop taking photos because I didn’t know when I would see something like it again. “I could really use some ice cream right now…” Georgia said as we both stared through the windshield. We drove into town and I noticed how unique, independent businesses were mostly lining the streets. We walked around a bit and found an ice cream shop where I ordered a cherry-marshmallow-flavored treat that was everything I needed at that moment. We reluctantly said goodbye to Sedona and drove to our campsite outside of Flagstaff, setting up my tent next to a creek. All the sites around us seemed to be occupied as well, and there was a young boy in particular who was being a bit loud as he bumbled through the campground, his voice cutting through the chirping and croaking of the evening forest. I didn’t know if it was too trusting of me or if I was being foolish, but we left the tent there, unattended, to go to Lowell Observatory. Some fires had been burning in north Arizona, which had us a bit worried earlier in the day, but it seemed to not be a problem for our plans going forward. We had driven up a tall hill to get to the observatory parking lot. The chill of the night didn’t bother me too much, because I was distracted by how many stars were visible in the clear night sky. We were with a tour group of sorts, but there was a lot of flexibility to explore the outdoor exhibits. We gathered with the guide as he told us to observe the moon emerging from the horizon. It was a vibrant pink-0range color, slowly getting paler as it rose higher in the sky. Flagstaff was lucky to have a facility like this in their backyard. Space was one of those things most people remember finding fascinating as a kid and pretty much forever after.

*Georgia at Lowell Observatory, in Flagstaff, Arizona*

The next morning, we packed up at the campsite and headed back to Flagstaff. Before grabbing a bite, Georgia and I stepped into Bright Side Bookshop. It was very spacious and felt more lived in than Changing Hands in Phoenix. The wooden floors creaked a bit as we walked through. The dark, wooden shelves felt real and sturdy to my hands. I noticed the small, detailed tiles covering the ceiling, and felt the whooshing of the ceiling fans. The staff was constantly greeting customers with a, “hi, how are you?” And I would hear a “hey, I’m looking for…” back. These kinds of indie bookstores were pleasing to the senses, all around. The feel of a place is very important; it often dictates how long we walk around the space and how much attention we pay to the products before walking out. This store just felt frequented, and therefore it felt valuable to the community here.

For coffee and breakfast, we went around the corner to Late to the Train. I was able to check some things off my to-do list on my laptop while we waited for our drinks and food, and I was feeling quite content overall. This part of Flagstaff was very endearing, and the energy from all of the people at the coffee shop paired well with the rest I got last night. I always slept well whenever I went camping. We left there with a game plan for the day, and about three hours later, we arrived at the Grand Canyon National Park. I had been there before on a family trip when I was much younger, but it was Georgia’s first time. That being said, both of us were pretty astonished to see the vastness of the canyon. Georgia’s jaw dropped and stayed that way for a while and we spent some time walking the trail around the canyon edge, stopping to take photos every now and then. The Grand Canyon’s visitors’ center and signs seemed a lot bigger and more detailed than other National Parks I had been to, probably due to the extremely high volume of tourists that come through daily. We heard many languages as we stood on the observation platforms, looking out. But, in full honesty, that was pretty much it at the Grand Canyon—you see it, you take it in, you take some photos, you look at it a bit longer, and you get out of the way of some family who wants to take 100 photos. Then you’re ready to move on. We had a long drive north from there through Marble Canyon, to our next campsite, outside of Zion National Park. With every corner we turned, Georgia would say, “oh, wow…” For hours, there were either unexpected rock formations or really distant valleys in unobstructed view to marvel at. We set up camp again that evening, but this time, our campground came with a food hall and a pool and horseback riders, and mini-golf… All I needed was a shower, and some sunlight to read before going to sleep.

*First sight of the Grand Canyon, in Arizona*

It was a short drive the next morning from our campsite to Zion. We could’ve easily spent a day on the trails in the beautiful outdoors, but we thought we would enjoy one of the most popular trails before we had to make our way to LAS VEGAS, NEVADA. Unfortunately, there was no parking at the visitors’ center, so we had to go into the adjacent town to find expensive parking and walk from there to the shuttle buses. It was a bit blazing, but we managed to get to a trail, cool our hands in a rushing stream, and find shade in the company of towering red mountains. The trail pretty much followed the stream down to more shallow water, where we sat, getting our feet wet, and admiring the sheer size of everything around us. We had to fight some squirrels to stay out of our belongings while we cooled down at the stream, and by the time we got back to the car, we were exhausted and hungry. What was worse was that the only quick bite to grab around us was a Subway. Regardless, we quickly scarfed down our lunch before we hopped back into the car for almost three hours.

The heat was like nothing I had ever experienced. The temperature on the dashboard kept rising, reaching 113°F at one point. We needed to keep our energy up if we were going to walk around the Strip for a bit tonight, so we stopped at a Starbucks drive-thru and a very animated barista with a Mickey Mouse voice woke us up just fine. It wouldn’t be my first time in Vegas, as it was Georgia’s, but neither of us was really interested in anything but leisurely strolling under the bright lights of the towering casinos and hotels, each with their unique names and means of expression. I remember getting out to pump gas right before we arrived in Vegas, thinking the wind could’ve easily knocked over a toddler. Truly some of the most bizarre weather. I could never get used to it.

We freshened up at the Airbnb we had for a night, one we were sharing with a kind European couple visiting the Southwest for the first time. It was about time too—we had camped the past two nights and showered at the sites, but this was definitely more comfortable and refreshing. We proceeded to drive into the thick of Vegas and I got flashbacks to Jennings and me navigating Atlanta traffic a few weeks ago. I was gripping the steering wheel, white-knuckled, the entire time as I zipped through the constantly merging and splitting lanes under tourist-infested walkways connecting different parts of the hotels and casinos on the Strip. We definitely got in our steps after we eventually found some parking in a sketchy, underground deck. There was no shortage of peculiar sights that evening. I had told a professor of mine about this project and asked for the ultimate recommendation for food in Las Vegas. Without hesitation, he told me, “go to the China Poblano at the Cosmopolitan. Order the carnitas tacos and a salt air margarita.” And that’s exactly what I did.

The next day, Georgia and I began our day on the perfect note with some coffee at a shop called Mothership Coffee Roasters. Imagine a space-age building with a lawn outside, blasting Whitney Houston under an overcast sky. After some more strolling in the area, we stumbled upon a bookstore nearby called The Writer’s Block. After a quick look around, I desperately wanted to interview the owners, so I took a shot and got ahold of one of them and explained my project. He happily obliged to be a part of it, marking my first impromptu interview of the trip.

The Writer’s Block

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

The only independent, general-interest bookstore offering new titles in southern Nevada, The Writer’s Block is a wide-reaching beacon for readers and writers of all interests. However, the store’s largest sections include their fiction and poetry sections, definitely catering to a more literary audience—an honest way to differentiate themselves from the chain stores in the area.

Fit with a cafe to greet you at the entrance, it’s likely you could spend quite some time finding a book or chatting with a friend over a cup of coffee. I knew I could see myself doing so. However, you’re likely to notice the unique avian theme before anything else crosses your mind.

How would you describe this bookstore in one word?

“…It's gonna sound really highfalutin, but I would say, maybe, sanctuary? Just because, because we're an artificial bird sanctuary. We've got these artificial birds everywhere… I think for a lot of people who are visiting Vegas, maybe, or who live here, we are sort of an oasis and/or sanctuary.”

That’s Drew Cohen, co-owner and co-founder of The Writer’s Block. Not only is the store a sanctuary for artificial birds—there were so many beautiful winged creatures, plants, lights, and mobiles hanging from the ceiling—but it serves curious minds in a meaningful way, as well. Near the entrance of the store lies a classroom space offering programming, such as free creative writing workshops for kids on the weekends. But The Writer’s Block even offers housing above the main store, primarily for writers in residence through various programs in the city of Las Vegas.

The store holds an event called “Expo” multiple times a year, during which writers in residence and local writers share their work. They also offer field trip opportunities to elementary school-age children. And it’s a given that most successful bookstores offer book signings and author events to their communities—but there’s a more simple reason that this bookstore exists.

“Sometimes it's just being in the same building as other people who are also into reading and, like… the life of the mind and stuff,” Drew explained. “I just think it's—can be—kind of depressing to live in a place where that isn’t available. [We] definitely try to make sure we're here for the locals...”

Drew views the role of the store to be a tastemaker for his city—and also a “taste-receiver.” One can find a slice of what Las Vegas is like outside of the Strip at The Writer’s Block, and the store will also take in what is popular to adapt some of its offerings to the people that inhabit that space. During the pandemic, Vegas experienced a much shorter lockdown compared to other cities in the United States. the local community rallied to keep The Writer’s Block’s business strong via their web store and curbside pick-up.

Now—having learned what many of us have during the pandemic—he’s a strong advocate for in-store experiences. According to Drew, there’s no “sense of discovery” when book-buying online; there’s simply no way to express personality online in the same way as in organic, in-person interactions. “The most personality you can show is by being more personal in your emails to people… which you very quickly just don't even have time for.” I connected with what Drew had to say and thanked him for accepting us for the interview after we dropped out of the sky. I suppose it’s time to kick convenience to the curb and bring back that sense of discovery.

Drew was reading…

*Madame Bovary*, by Gustave Flaubert, translated by Francis Steegmuller

*Wait, so where is Joshua? No where to be seen…*

Still riding the high of having somehow swung that interview out of nowhere, I left Las Vegas with a smile on my face as we slowly crept toward Joshua Tree National Park. It was still bright out when we arrived around 5 pm at the campsite, the subtle wind and the obnoxiously loud children at the neighboring site only slightly infringing on the otherwise peaceful park landscape. After freshening up, and a bit more of American Gods, we decided to take a hike to stretch our legs after another day cooped up inside Lola. It was foolish to think that I wouldn’t have a difficult time finding my way back to the site—Georgia and I definitely got a bit lost at some point. But we were on a quest, you see. The running joke that evening was we had to discover what all the fuss was about this so-called “Joshua Tree.” Ultimately, we were able to confidently declare an isolated figure on an arid hill in the distance “the Joshua Tree.” This was the little tree whose name was Joshua, after which this expanse of land had been named.

And with that sort of business out of the way, we were able to call it a day.

This week’s food for thought

“…It's just, I think, discovery. Just the sense of discovery. And I also just think that shopping online is a real bummer experience. It's very impersonal, it's very disembodied. I think the pandemic really underscored this for people… I's not fun being a disembodied agent on the internet all the time, and convenience is maybe a little overrated. So, I just think, you know, and then of course… we create jobs in the Las Vegas Metro Area. You're supporting a business that has roots here, and that isn't just rapaciously, you know, leeching off of your labor force and then ditching them when they no longer can fill up pallets in two years because their backs are out or whatever. You know what I mean?”