Vegas: The family wheels

upon a time, when I was still just a wee young little version of the human I am today, I lived in my grandpa's house with a few other family members. It was the hub of the relatives, and every holiday season the extended branches would return to the root and have a massive feast together. It was a large family, so there were many different personalities that could lead to arguments over dinner, but for the most part, it was a jovial and merry time... but after my great old grandpa passed on after an extended battle with illness, the siblings devolved into in-fighting and drifted apart with the years. The family house was sold, grandpa's car driven off to another state, and life went on. Given that I spent many of my formative years living in his house, I was quite close to my grandfather and losing him hurt pretty badly. Sure, I was adopted into the family, and always kind of felt a bit like an outsider (I was the only one in the family with both brown hair and brown eyes, so I was the brunette sheep of the clan) but grandpa? He never let that be the case for long. When my parents would fight, he'd let me take shelter in his room and offer me a cream soda from his private stash, and ensure I got a gift at Christmas. He helped me purchase the car I still have to this day. When it came to my education, he was my biggest champion and encouraged me to get good grades and push to learn more. Life isn't perfect, and neither was he, but he left a strong impression on me as a kid and I credit him for inspiring me to achieve some of the more difficult things I've managed in my life. 

Somewhere down the road, quite literally, my grandpa's car found it's way back to me. Unfortunately, after being driven off by my Uncle (who had, at the time, decried me too irresponsible for the vehicle), things had taken a dire turn for the worse. We were given the car for free, which was exceptionally nice of my aunt to do after sinking her own money into trying to get the car operational again, but we quickly found that she was still inoperable. We made it less than a full block before plumes of steam were wafting out from under the hood, and the transmission completely failed to react. I've no clue what exactly happened to the poor old girl, but she had hardly any miles on her. The Volvo I had prior to my grandpa's passing, however, is nearing 200,000 miles on her original transmission and only recently had her first issues, so I'm pleased to know my uncle's appraisal of my vehicular responsibility was incorrect and the judgment misplaced. 

So these photos serve as a bit of a time capsule. My grandfather drove me to eat chicken fried steak for breakfast in this car when I was just an adolescent, and while it hurt to see it go, we couldn't afford to fix the extent of issues she'd developed. We sold her to a mechanic, so hopefully she's been rebuilt and is on the road again, but I'll always have these photos to preserve the memory. 

Thanks for everything, grandpa. 💖

💙

XOXO,

NAU

Reno: Surreal suburbia

Come along and join me for a bite of my favorite muffin, won't you?

All jokes aside, there's a surreal sort of nature to Reno that we discovered during our stay. There's the familiarity, of a city being somewhat akin-to-but-not-quite like our hometown, yet there's the weird throwbacks to the 80's and 90's that linger, giving an age to the city not unlike the crow's feet cracking through the thickly caked on makeup of your diner waitress clinging to decades past. We weren't finished with the city, not yet, as we still had a couple of errands to run while we were still surrounded by some vestige of civilization. On top of the usual things, like getting some snacks, vehicular fluids and checks, there was the shuffling of finances and additional fluids to purchase. Rather than try to keep driving through the dense forest of traffic cones that seemed to crop up once we left the downtown touristy area, we opted to walk to our next destinations. This allowed us the opportunity to appraise an area outside of the main drag, which is always a good idea for getting the true feel of a city beyond its neon-spackled traps.  I suppose I can see why many of my peers opted to go north and settle in Reno, but it's still a little too-close to Vegas for me to feel like I've truly escaped the vortex-like nature of the city...but for those who find this affinity appealing for nostalgic purposes, it's quite the nice touch, I suppose. 

Reno, like many cities favored by millennials, is growing. There are more little artsy-fartsy coffee shops popping up, along with multi-megaplex apartments that offer everything you could ever want or need in a residence, from gyms to pet parks. It's still a little city trying very much to feel like a bigger one, so for people who want that, it's got it in bounds. Reno isn't a bad place, not at all, and there's a lot of things to be said for consistent sunshine and cheap food and booze. Once we'd stretched our legs and tended to our various errands, however, we returned to our vehicles to strive outward and onward. While Reno certainly made for a nice pitstop, we weren't planning to settle here any time soon. 

So long, Mr. Bourdain.

I'm not normally one for the melodrama and feigned tears surrounding most celebrity passings, especially when it comes to crafting any sort of eulogy to the loss of someone I've never met...at least, not usually. As disheartening and surprising as it was to lose some of the celebrities who have passed these recent years, the suicide of Anthony Bourdain is the one that hits especially close for me.  This is a man, who for better or for worse, played an extremely crucial role in shaping how I've approached travel throughout my life. I've sat in the same restaurants he has in cities as far off as Osaka, as well as my own hometown of Vegas, and I've been known to watch and re-watch old episodes out of either pre-emptive research or nostalgic reminiscings. 

Not only are there restaurants I may never have set foot in, like Jiyu Ken curryhouse above, which Anthony visited in an episode of No Reservations I studiously watched prior to visiting Osaka, but I've since recommended this same place to my friend, Sam, who went during her own visit to the city, creating a sort of snowball effect wherein random foreign women, thanks to Bourdain, started proliferating the business. I like to think that his show has had a similar effect on many of the restaurants and especially some of the countries he's highlighted over the years with the lens of his camera crew, as well as opening people's awareness to foods they may not have otherwise sampled. The curry was, after all, absolutely delicious, and there's something uncanny and surreal about sitting in the same establishment as a person whose approach drastically inspired your own. The same woman who's characteristic hairstyle and presence was featured with respect in his episode was there during my visit, graciously allowing my photos. 

Bourdain was an archetype of traveling ethos, but he was also a man. Flawed, hurt, as human as the rest of us. He was pretty earnest about that, including footage of accidental ATV-rollings or red-faced late-night drunken tom-foolery, but that endeared him all the more to those of us who felt like we got to know him through the artifice of television and interviews, watching as he got to know his hosts and sampled their food and drink with gusto and respect. I, myself, have sat with strangers, sharing bottles and meals, in most of the countries I've ever visited, thanks to Bourdain's inspiration. He inspired me to try to see each place through the eyes of locals, to enmesh myself as deeply as possible with my inevitably foreign presence. I've made friends with a sushi chef in Inagekaigan who gifted me with a painting he made, or ridden cable cars and tried century egg with a friendly Aussie in Hong Kong, because people don't have to be scary. They're just people. And we all have our burdens to bear... but those precious moments in between, when we can come together over a cold (or sometimes hot) drink, a meal, and some laughter are the most precious of all. 

I have no doubt that the man will be missed, and I'm so very sorry for the loss of all his friends and family. Suicide can be a surprisingly sneaky enemy, as the many losses over the recent years so painfully demonstrate. Just because someone seems to be doing well and has all the trappings of success does not mean that they're going to be happy. If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, please reach out to someone!

The suicide prevention lifeline is there for you if you need it, but if you're not into talking on the phone with a stranger, you can use the Crisis Textline to reach out and communicate without having to trigger any social anxiety issues you may have. Please don't let your depression convince you that you're being a bother or that it's not worth reaching out. You're worth it. 

💙

XOXO,

NAU

Japan: Winter vibes 2011

Having recently acquired my beloved Mamachari, it was time to do some exploring!