Los Angeles

Dan and Molly were extravagent in their hospitality this past week.

We were given a fabulous futon mattress for sleeping. Food, gossip and other fuels were readily available around the corner at the local chic coffee shop. We spent Sunday morning perusing produce and sampling the wares at the Hollywood farmers' market. I indulged in a heaping platter of vegetarian Mediterranean food -- one of my most frequently fantasized-about food; Eliza, Dan and Molly all stuffed down steaming, overloaded burritos. The market was very nice, crowded, colorful, pleasantly alilt with music and the entreating calls of vendors.

Later that day we agreed to join our hosts at a co-ed baby shower a friend of theirs was having. It was held in Glendale, somewhere up the highway and around the hills, in a beautiful and enormous house overlooking the dense, smog-stained, steel and concrete valleys of eastern Los Angeles. We all got out the car and balked when we saw the house, its pristine white doorway being grace by the entry of a group a pristinely clad party goers. Eliza and I had on the same clothes that we always wear. Dan actually looked no better than us. It was fine, though. The party was for a guy who works with Dan's new twins, and he was just excited to see more people from his side in attendance at his highly unorthodox cross-gender baby shower. Nearly everyone there turned out to be Armenian, stangely enough. In fact, it seems that there are lots and lots of Armenian people al over LA. I had no idea. So we schmoozed some, ate a lot, played the games that get played at these types of get-togethers . . . Dan ended up winning the apple juice chugging contest to see who could drink a baby bottle-full the fastest. It was a hilarious thing to watch. We left bearing chocolate party favors and a huge plate of Arabic food. I had eaten the same for breakfast, but my mouth wasn't about to stop munching.

That night Dan, Eliza, and I went out to watch Molly perform with an improv group at a comedy club in Hollywood. It was a good time, funny. Her show was followed by Jeff Gruner's standup show (the guy from "Curb Your Enthusiasm") with Bob Goldthwait and another guy. We didn't stick around for more than a few minutes, though, and the rest of the night was spent recalling old times over guitars back at the house.

***

Monday was re-supply and Internet day. Eliza and I walked around some other neighborhood, Silverlake, I think, for a while. I ran into Hollywood and got my cellphone replaced, saw Dan's place of employment, played some riffs on his boss's ancient guitar, and that night we were treated to a huge Indian meal at The Electric Lotus.

***

And Tuesday afternoon, we found ourselves back in traffic, headed out to Agua Dulce, an hour out of downtwon LA. Dan was able to drive us back to the Saufley's and our vacation felt abruptly finished.

Immediately upon arriving at the Hiker Heaven we saw that our package still hadn't arrived and started to get frantic about all the little tasks we still had to get to before being able to head out and get back on the trail. There were what seemed to be hordes of new hairy hikers spread out over the lawn behind the house. Bits and pieces of conversations caught our ears. "Dude, the climb right after Islip was so intense, but we did it," and "Man, didn't want to take a break, but I knew it was right. My body definitely needed a zero." It was too much for me. For whatever reason, Dan and Molly didn't show much interest in our hike. They were really, really happy to have us, and excited to share their lives with us, but never fully seemed to grasp what we were really doing out here. At one point Dan called out from the other room where he was preparing some CDs or DVDs to burn for me, "Where are you guys living now, anyway?" "Nowhere, Dan, we're just hiking until October," we replied. "What?! No really, what about listening to music?" I don't think he ever dropped his incredulity. We told him we might be able to see him again when we were back in LA and he took it as a matter of course. Anyway, back in Agua Dulce and there was no escaping the trail and its all encompassing trappings . . .

By 9pm, we were off, headed down the road towards the trail, headlamps ablaze, the nearly full moon hung like a lamp over our shoulders . . .