Category: Arts & Theater

On the Eve of Feminine Rage

2.13

अतुलंतत्रतत्तेजः सर्वदेवशरीरजम् ।

एकस्थंतदभून्नारीव्याप्तलोकत्रयंत्विषा ।

“Unequaled light, born from the bodies of all the [male] gods, coalesced into a female form and pervaded the three worlds with its splendor.”

2.32

अन्यैरपिसुरैर्देवीभूषणैरायुधैस्तथा ।

सम्मानिताननादोच्चैः साट्टहासंमुहुर्मुहुः ।

“Honored also by the other gods with adornments and weapons, the Devī [Goddess] laughed thunderously and defiantly again and again.”

2.33

तस्यानादेनघोरेणकृत्स्नमापूरितंनभः ।

अमायतातिमहताप्रतिशब्दोमहानभूत ।

“She filled the entire sky with Her terrible roar, and from the immeasurable din a great echo resounded.”

2.34

चुक्षुभुः सकलालोकाः समुद्राश्चचकम्पिरे ।

चचालवसुधाचेलुः सकलाश्चमहीधराः ।

“All the worlds shook, and the oceans churned. The earth quaked, and the mountains heaved.”

3.28

इतिक्रोधसमाध्मातमापतन्तंमहासुरम् ।

दृष्टवासाचण्डिकाकोपंतद्वधायतदाकरोत ।

“When She saw the great asura approaching, inflated with rage, Candikā aroused Her wrath and prepared to slay him.”

3.34

ततः क्रुद्धाजगन्माताचण्डिकापानमुत्तमम् ।

पपौपुनः पुनश्चैवजहासारुणलोचना ।

“Angered, Candikā, the Mother of the worlds, drank a divine potion, and with eyes reddened She laughed again and again”

3.37

देव्युवगच ।

“The Devī said:”

3.38

गर्जगर्जक्षणंमूढमधुयावत्पिबाम्यहम् ।

मयात्वयिहते’ त्रैवगर्जिष्यन्त्याशुदेवताः । 

‘Bellow, you fool, bellow for now while I drink this potion. After I have slain you, the gods will cheer in this very place.’

3.40

एवमुक्त्वासमुत्पत्यसारूढातंमहासुरम् ।

पादेनाक्रम्यकण्ठेचशूलेनैनमताडयत् ।

“Having declared that, She leapt upon the great asura, pinned his neck down with Her foot, and pierced him through with Her spear.”

– The Devī Mahātmyam

Full text here. Transliteration & translation here. 

          The Goddess arrived in Kolkata on the morning of October 10th, her ten delicate hands dyed red with alta as they brandished the gods’ weapons. Joyfully she comes year after year to the capitol city of West Bengal, India, where the city’s residents build thousands of clay murtis (idols) to honor her many forms. Brahmin priests invite Her spirit with Sanskrit chants and clamorous drums, methodically consecrating the murtis so that Maa Durga may reside among us.

Priests prepare a ritual fire before a Goddess idol.
A havan, or ritual fire, used to invite the Goddess to earth on saptami, the seventh day of the festival.

          For Bengalis, Durga Puja is the climax of the year. The Divine Mother’s presence on earth is tangible: an exuberant energy that compels us to don our finest outfits and dance in the streets. The entire city is transformed with colorful LED panels, pop-up fuchka stalls, wandering balloon vendors, and advertising billboards. Each neighborhood crafts elaborate pandals: temporary structures that house Devī murtis in every shape and style. 

An elaborate pandal in Kolkata, surrounded by large crowds, advertisements, and festive lights.

          On the final day of the festival, devotees lovingly immerse their idols in the holy Ganges River, disintegrating them. They release the Goddess from her mortal form, and with melancholic praise, they bid Her farewell until next year.  

          Yet, this year, beneath the din of festive music, devotional mantras, and friendly chatter, a dissonant thrum builds to a crescendo. A wrathful chorus of wails, issued by a growing mob. They have gathered in the streets to demand justice.

          Two months prior to Durga Maa’s well-anticipated arrival, Kolkata was rocked by the discovery of a female doctor’s lifeless body in the seminar hall of RG Kar Medical College and Hospital. The young woman was found naked and bleeding from her genitals, mouth and eyes. Despite blatant evidence of a brutal rape and murder, the case was initially declared a suicide by the hospital’s president, who has since been accused of conspiring with local police to destroy evidence. It would seem that he is not the only one to have obstructed the investigation – for while the autopsy report clearly indicates multiple perpetrators, federal authorities continue to insist that one conviction is enough.

          This crime and its subsequent mishandling have sparked protests across India. Protesters – largely women – have raised questions as to the structures of power within the hospital and within India at large that enable these horrific abuses. Indeed, this incident, as harrowing as it is, is not altogether unfamiliar. The 2024 events at RG Kar harken back to the 2012 Nirbhaya case – involving the gang-rape and fatal assault of a physiotherapy intern on a Delhi bus – which likewise drew international attention to the alarming trend of gender-based violence in India. 

          Across the country, nearly 100 cases of rape are reported each DAY – to say nothing of the countless acts of sexual violence that go unreported. Due to the slim chances of conviction and the pervasive stigma against women’s sexuality, published statistics only convey a fraction of the dangers faced by Indian women. India is plagued by sexual assault, domestic violence, female infanticides, dowry deaths, and honor killings. And despite its ancient history of Goddess worship, India remains the most dangerous country in the world for women.

An ornate brass Devi idol

          Herein lies the problem with ancient Indic scriptures, written always by men and for men: Śakti, the cosmic feminine force, is thought to animate our reality – and yet this power may only be cultivated and controlled by men. Woman’s life is given by man, and it is forever liable to be taken by man as well. How is it that men reserve the right to desecrate the body of the Holy Mother, be she doctor, intern, or else, even as they consecrate her form sculpted from clay? How can those very same men claim to venerate the Divine Feminine while they beat and batter women, leaving them to die excruciating deaths on street sides and in seminar halls?

          Perhaps what we need now is not reverence for the Goddess, but rather unbridled fear. When She bares her teeth to issue an earth-shattering roar, men should not bow but cower. They should tremble and beg for Maa Durga’s mercy, knowing that they have not done enough to keep Her daughters safe.

A Durga idol with red clothes and encased in clay.

          In her last moments on earth, a young woman at RG Kar was made to cry tears of blood. This Durga Puja, she returns to Kolkata in the form of the Great Goddess, her eyes blazing red with unfettered rage. Through the clay idols of Devī, through the sorrowful shouts of every woman who has ever known pain, she will exact her revenge. She, and we, will know justice by her sacrifice.

          Let us arouse our wrath in service of our fallen sister, a promising young medic who had so much of her life ahead of her. Like Mahadevī, her life was designed and dissolved at the hands of men – taken too soon by a system that treats female bodies as less than male desires. May the oceans churn and may the mountains heave with the force of our rage and terrible grief, which we offer unto the world so that our daughters may live in a kinder world than do we. After we have slain this demon of our modern times – this violent, senseless patriarchy – we will not wait for the gods to cheer. We will laugh defiantly again and again, reclaiming our śakti as our own. 

A classically designed Devi murti with white garments, ornate jewelry, and red eyes.

Join the Fight:

  • Donate to Parichiti, a Kolkata-based women’s group that works towards gender equity by empowering women AND educating men.
  • Donate to MAVA (Men Against Violence and Abuse), an outreach organization dedicated to dismantling violent and patriarchal modes of socialization among young men.
  • Donate to Swayam, a feminist NGO committed to advancing women’s rights and ending gender-based violence.
  • Spread awareness about gender-based violence and injustices in India – even if you don’t live here. International visibility is highly effective in catalyzing social change.
  • Advocate for legal and social accountability – both the perpetrators of violent crimes and the bureaucrats who cover them up must be brought to justice.
  • Talk to your male friends & family members about what they can do to protect women. Gender-based violence is NOT only women’s problem to solve.

A Visionary Experience

          “Organic…wheatgrass…smoothie stand…” I muttered to myself, my breath hitching as I trotted along the uneven dirt path. I had been walking for maybe 20, max 25 minutes. The journey wasn’t long, but I didn’t exactly know where I was going, and after twenty-some minutes alone with my own thoughts, I began to wonder if I had already passed my destination. I peered over my shoulder and saw the same stretch of road I had just walked. No smoothie stand. It must be further ahead, then, I thought, and kept walking. 

          “Smoothies…organic smoothies…” 

          I wasn’t craving a smoothie. No, I wasn’t really looking for the smoothie stand at all. Rather, I was seeking what lay behind the smoothie stand; an elusive treasure promised to me by a stranger… 

          I had arrived in Tulum the night before, with only my yoga mat and a small backpack in tow. For the three weeks prior, I had been living with a Mexican host family in Merida. 

          The bus ride between the two Yucatecan cities was a few short hours, but transportation delays and my own neglect to consider time differences caused me to nearly miss the check-in window at my hostel. Luckily, the staff at “Mama’s Home” took pity on me.

         After a good night’s rest in my shared dormitory, I woke early, intent on making the most of my weekend in Tulum. Mama’s Home Hostel served delicious homemade breakfasts every morning!

          Mama’s Home was in the heart of town, but the locals insisted that I check out the beach. So, on my first visit to Mexico’s East coast, I boarded a local bus. The beach in Tulum is lined with resorts, boutiques, cafes, and art installations; I took my time meandering along the street and observing the city’s unique aesthetic. 

          It was during this wander that I first encountered the work of Daniel Popper, a 3D-multimedia artist who specializes in larger-than-life feminine statues. After this trip, I sought out Daniel Popper’s astonishing works at music festivals, a conservatory in Vegas, and a pop-up exhibit in a Chicago arboretum.

          This installation served as my gateway to the white sand beaches of Tulum, and I stepped through the statue’s heart space towards my first glimpse of the Caribbean Sea. Almost immediately, I was greeted by a spritely vendor with a massive load of fresh coconuts.

            “Veinte pesos!” he offered, and I couldn’t resist. I watched with glee as he picked out my coconut and hacked off the top with his machete. He plopped a straw into the hole, handed it to me, and quickly took off down the coast, his coconuts clanging cacophonously as his feet plodded against the sand. I settled into a resort chair—though I wasn’t a paying guest, no one seemed to mind my presence—and sipped the sweet coconut water.

          After my refreshment break, I set off down the beach in search of a yoga studio. Tulum is notorious among Western yogis for its selection of top-tier yoga classes and instructors, so I was eager to check out the scene for myself. Indeed, I found several options within a half-mile stretch, ranging from sound baths to Yoga Nidra to Kundalini. I eventually opted for a familiar offering: slow vinyasa flow. The studio was breathtaking: a free-standing room on the beach with floor to ceiling glass windows and a pristine view of the ocean. I was the first to arrive, and I enjoyed the ambience for several minutes in blissful solace.

            When the class time rolled around, the instructor appeared to let me know that I was the only one enrolled! We chatted for a bit before beginning my inadvertent private lesson. I was surprised to learn that my yoga teacher was not from the Yucatan Peninsula, nor would she be showcasing a unique Tulum style of yoga—rather, she had grown up and completed her yoga training in California. Nonetheless, her class provided exactly what I had been craving: a dynamic yet gentle sequence of postures and transitions, enhanced by the sound of waves lapping against the shore.

I didn't snap any pics of the studio on the beach, but this is the yoga studio at Holistika Resort where I attended a Kundalini class the next day. 

          After savasana, I thanked the instructor, and we shared tidbits from our respective teacher trainings. I learned that she, like me, had traveled to Tulum in her early 20’s and fallen in love with the slow-paced, ethereal atmosphere. When her husband received an offer to relocate for work, she was all too happy to leave her life in the States and open her own studio in Quintana Roo. Our conversation eventually lulled, and I prepared to bid her farewell. As I rolled up my mat, though, I hesitated. I had an inquiry for her, though I did not know whether she would have an answer for me. Worse: I did not know whether my inquiry might be seen as tacky or even offensive. I chewed my lip for a moment, contemplating. Finally:

            “Do you know where I might find a plant medicine ceremony?”

            I expected a grimace, an eyeroll, or a gasp, but I received no such response. Instead, the instructor paused for a moment, deep in thought, and then said,

            “Try the organic wheatgrass smoothie stand.”

          So, that’s how I ended up on the roadside, clinging desperately to a blind faith in my yoga instructor’s vague directions. This was a new experience for me, and I had known coming in that I wouldn’t find a clear list of options on Tripadvisor. Even still, I was a bit unsettled by the prospect of approaching a random smoothie vendor and asking them for mind-altering drugs. Would they scorn me? Would they laugh? Would they turn me into the local authorities? I truly had no idea what to expect.

          At the ripe age of twenty-one, I was no stranger to the world of psychoactive substances. I grew up in Colorado, where recreational cannabis was legalized just after my 14th birthday. By the time I went to study abroad in Mexico, I was a certified psychonaut, but I had never undergone a psychedelic experience with a guide, save for the rare occasions when my roommate happened to be home and offered, jokingly, to be my “trip sitter.” I was, as drug users go, quite responsible; I was careful to always assess the risks of each substance, measure my dose meticulously, and prepare a safe setting in the event of a bad trip. I had never seen a need for a guide. However, I had journeyed to Tulum seeking a spiritual release, and I knew that this city would be the perfect place to dip my toes into the waters of sacramental drug use.

           After another ten minutes of walking aimlessly, I encountered the first marker of my destination: a hand-painted wooden sign with the words “Vegan Organic Wheatgrass Smoothies.” The smoothie stand itself was only a few meters off the road, a quaint wooden hut with a roof of dried palm fronds, nestled within a lush garden of tropical plants. I approached hesitantly, still not knowing what or how to ask for what I desired. Luckily, I didn’t have to—a middle-aged Mexican woman behind the bar flashed me a comforting smile and handed me a menu. Internally, I facepalmed—duh, I should order something, I thought to myself. In feeble Spanish, I informed the woman about my vegetarianism and asked for her recommendation. She pointed to one of the specials, barbecue jackfruit tacos, and I nodded eagerly in agreement.

          Within minutes, the woman had served me a stunning plate of plant-based tacos, complete with freshly squeezed orange juice and their house salsa. This meal was a welcome sight, for I had already learned that Mexican cuisine is not the most vegetarian friendly. Back in Merida, I had repeatedly told my host mom “no como carne!” (“I don’t eat meat!”), only for her to serve me ham sandwiches and arroz con pollo. She was such a gracious host that I was happy to eat whatever she offered me, but I was incredibly grateful to finally have some animal-free dietary options.

            As I savored my meal, I basked in the beauty of the surrounding garden and worked up the nerve to ask for what I had come for. At last:

            “Do you know where I could find a plant medicine ceremony?” I gulped my orange juice nervously, awaiting her response.

            “Ah, si,” she replied immediately. “Go talk to the man in there.” Much to my surprise, she pointed to a small building behind me. 

          I quickly finished my meal, walked over to the modest hotel, and repeated my question to the man behind the desk. He confirmed that I was in the right place. Before I could even process what happened, we agreed that I would come back the following morning at 7 am—“just as the sun is rising,” the man said, “it will be beautiful.”

          I went through the rest of that afternoon and evening in a state of slight disbelief and gripping fear. What had I signed up for? Should I even trust this man? Was I putting myself in danger by agreeing to this? In hindsight, my concerns were perfectly valid, and perhaps I should have asked more questions before I paid the man to reserve my ceremony (a measly $100 USD for what I perceived as a once-in-a-lifetime cultural experience). Even still, I am glad that I calmed myself and embraced the unknown. The next morning, I awoke before first light and tiptoed around the hostel to avoid waking my roommates. At 6:30, I set off down the same road I had walked the previous day, this time knowing confidently where I was headed.

            Just as the sun’s light began to peek over the horizon, I arrived at the hotel and greeted my facilitator, whose name I learned was Valtteri. He led me through the garden behind the hotel towards a lone tipi nestled within the lush vegetation. He then introduced me to his assistant and invited me to get comfortable amongst the many blankets and pillows laid out on the tipi floor. He began to explain the medicine offering: 5-MEO-DMT, not a plant medicine after all, but in fact the venom of the toad known as Bufo Alvarius, which is native to the Mexican Sonoran Desert. My heart was racing out of my chest, but he spoke slowly and steadily, and I began to feel calm by listening to his voice. I tried to focus on my breath in an attempt at getting my heartrate under control.

          Valtteri asked me if I had ever experienced the toad medicine, and I shook my head. He smiled knowingly but did not say anything; I imagine he did not want to create any expectations for me. Instead, he explained the method of ingestion. Though he gave clear and concise instructions, I could feel my stomach twisting into knots. What if I did it wrong? What if I missed a step? What’s the worst thing that can happen?

            My facilitator did not give me time to dwell on my anxieties. He immediately launched into a guided meditation focused on the breath. Those ten minutes felt like an eternity. I attempted to clear my mind and listen only to the sensations in my body, which were clouded by the overbearing thump-thump of my heart in my chest. My logical mind fought for dominance against my emotional center, and I tried desperately to suppress my panic without tensing my body or losing the rhythm of my breath. Finally, Valtteri asked me to open my eyes. His assistant handed him a small glass pipe, which he promptly held up to my mouth.

            “Breathe in,” he instructed, and began to light the pipe. I did as I was told. Almost immediately, a burning sensation erupted in my lungs. My years of smoking weed could never have prepared me for that moment—I wanted to exhale, to choke, to cry out, but Valtteri said firmly, “keep going.” I did as I was told. I inhaled until my lungs were full of red-hot air, swirling and smoldering and igniting my airways. I inhaled for a thousand years and felt my chest imploding with the shape of smoke, my blistering breath combusting inside me. And then, when I thought I couldn’t possibly inhale anything more, Valtteri said, “hold it in.” I did as I was told.

            I must have exhaled at some point. I vaguely remember seeing a cloud of wispy smoke dissipating before me. I believe Valtteri guided me through one more inhale, though my memory of the ingestion disintegrates into conjecture after the first hit. Valtteri’s voice began to sound very distant, as though I was falling down a deep well and he was calling to me from the top. At some point, the blazing fire in my lungs faded away, overtaken by the more pressing concern of my rapidly dissolving consciousness. The edges of my periphery blurred, followed soon after by my entire field of vision. I began to vibrate.

          At first, the vibrations were gentle and low, emanating from deep within my gut. Then, the vibrations grew stronger and stronger, crescendoing in a symphony of high-frequency tremors that resonated outwards from my being and caused the earth beneath me to quake and tremble violently. Just as the pulsations arrived at a deafening throb, I heard Valtteri speak to me from someplace far away: “lay back.”

          I did as I was told, and I immediately slipped into the warm embrace of the visionary realm.

          My blurry, precarious grip on reality exploded into unprecedented clarity. I was suddenly drenched in the full spectrum of color, swimming in a pool of blinding saturation. Every shade of the rainbow splintered into fractals simultaneously. Each hue gave way to a new shape in succession: circles, stars, spirals, supernovas. They blended into one another seamlessly, creating a harmonious cinema of kaleidoscopic beauty.

          I was no longer in my body. I was not merely a detached observer; I was not separate from the kaleidoscope at all. Rather, I was careening down its center, being absorbed and resorbed by a boundless pattern of pigmented particles. My limbs, my torso, my head, all these parts of me had ceased to exist, and I rode the current of colors like the high soprano of a violin, ringing amidst its counterparts in a bright orchestral swell. The energy within my prismatic world surged and softened, crested and calmed. I floated above it all.

          Magenta rings shattered into lavender mandalas; rust-colored rhombi fragmented into scarlet diamonds; cobalt crosses fractured into dazzling lime angles. Each mosaic ruptured into one more breathtaking than the last, weaving a never-ending polychromatic tapestry. I had never seen such color before. Formless, limitless, I traveled through the tunnel of my fulminating consciousness.

          Time did not exist here. I was wholly immersed in my altered consciousness, unaware of my physical surroundings. Eventually, I was ejected from the kaleidoscope into a realm inhabited by prismatic nature spirits. These creatures were equally as colorful as their polygonal predecessors, but they resided within the third, fourth, and fifth dimensions, shifting between planes and challenging my depth perception. At one moment within reach, and the next light years away. Rainbow-colored elephants zoomed in and out of focus with the vibrant contrast of a neatly lined color-by-number painting. Jungle cats folded symmetrically along their mid-lines, their whiskers aligning with perfect precision, only to stretch and elongate, abstracting and deconstructing through countless reflections. Polyhedral parrots, geckos, frogs, and fish stacked themselves on top of one another, forming infinite totems that stretched beyond my comprehension.

          The final spirit was that of a lone wolf, crisply defined in all his chromaticity. He dominated my mind’s eye, strong and stationary. Rather than standing opposite the wolf, it seemed as though his face was presented to me: a page in a book from which I could not and did not want to look away. I stared at him; he stared at me.

          And then: white. My awareness was subsumed by a blanket of heavenly nothingness. A choir of angelic voices rang out in unison. In this blank space, I had no body, nor thoughts, nor feelings. I simply existed. Unfiltered sunlight poured in from all directions, purifying and crystallizing the emptiness. I remained there for quite a while, basking in a sensation of peace that I had never before experienced.

          Upon opening my eyes, I first saw the blue day sky through the open top of the tipi. The sun was fully risen now, indicating that some amount of time must have passed during my ceremony, though I had no conception of how much. The sounds of my surroundings came next: the gentle yet steady percussive thrum of Valtteri’s assistant as he struck his drum and chanted in Spanish; the wind whistling outside the tipi; my own breath. I slowly became aware of my own body on the earth, bolstered comfortably by the pillows and blankets onto which I had collapsed during ingestion. I felt my bones first: my hips, spine, and skull pressing against the firm ground. Then, slowly, I regained sensation in my soft tissues, felt my muscles reawakening, sent subtle movements into my extremities. My vision gradually sharpened, and I began to remember where I was and how I had gotten there. I rocked my head from side to side and swirled my tongue around my mouth. I returned to reality.

          I pressed up to a seat and looked to Valtteri, who was smiling softly.

          “Lost track of space and time, hm?” he asked with slight amusement. I nodded, bewildered. The details of my journey were already beginning to fade from my memory, but the integration of what I had learned would take many months to follow. I could only begin to process my visions in those first few moments after reemergence.

          We took our time exiting the tipi, as my legs had seemingly forgotten how to work. Valtteri wished me luck and sent me deeper into the garden, where another member of the hotel staff was preparing a fresh vegetarian breakfast for me. Having just encountered a multitude of divine beings, eating was the last thing on my mind, but indeed my body was grateful for the nourishment. I ate slowly, chewing each bite a hundred times as I lost myself in recollections of my trip. And then, when I had finished my meal, I simply got up and showed myself out. 

          I felt as thought I was putting my human suit back on and resuming the mundane act of theatrical imitation. My head reeled with everything I had seen; my perspective on life felt forever changed; and yet, I had emerged in the same physical form, a mere 45 minutes later. I had no choice – I went on living my life, having captured a glimpse of the otherworldly forces that lie beyond the veil. 

Let the Good Times Roll

          Did you know that there are no open container laws in New Orleans?

          I didn’t. Frankly, I didn’t know what to expect when I flew into NOLA on the eve of Mardi Gras. I have always wanted to celebrate Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but only because of the living room in my childhood home. My mother painted the walls a dark, royal purple and hung feathered masks to match. I had a strong visual of the iconic event, but in my mind, it was completely distanced from its context. New Orleans couldn’t possibly be a city in Louisiana, not in the United States at all, but rather, a whimsical land outside of space and time where sequined fairies shower you with beads and court jesters dance in the streets.

          My conception wasn’t entirely false. Sequined fairies do shower you with beads, and court jesters do dance in the streets. New Orleans at Mardi Gras embodies liminality. Everyone is either coming or going, yet no one has any real place to be. All other affairs come to a screeching halt. The laws and morals of everyday life needn’t apply—after all, it’s Mardi Gras, baby.  At least, this seemed to be the attitude held by my friend Payton, who lived in New Orleans and hosted me for the week. His job gave him the week prior to Mardi Gras off, so he spent his free days attending parades and collecting festive paraphernalia. He proudly showed off his favorite “throws”—stacks of plastic cups and handfuls of fake doubloons—while boasting his tried-and-true method for capturing a Krewe member’s attention aboard a float. I won’t reveal his secret, of course; everyone must discover their own methods.

          Unsurprisingly, the debauchery and chaos of Mardi Gras are steeped in age-old religious tradition. And who better than the Catholics, of course, to throw a raucous sin fest every year to commemorate the season of salvation?

          Rather than tell you where it all starts, it’s easier for me to explain where it ends, and that’s Easter Sunday. Easter falls on the first Sunday after the Paschal full moon, and the forty days preceding the feast are called Lent. This is a time of fasting and religious observance, wherein Catholics honor the forty days Jesus spent wandering in the desert prior to his crucifixion. They will usually make a Lenten sacrifice (such as a food or habit) and/ or undertake a spiritual discipline (such as daily devotional or prayer) to honor Jesus’s ultimate sacrifice. Many Catholics also forgo meat. Easter, then, is a welcome respite; the breaking of the long fast; a light at the end of the tunnel. The period of grief is necessarily ended by celebration of the great miracle of Christianity.

          But let’s keep winding the clock back. Lent kicks off with Ash Wednesday, when Catholics attend mass in the morning to formally begin the fast. If we go back one day further, we land on the Tuesday before Lent. This Tuesday is known as *Fat Tuesday* in honor of the gluttony that you’re meant to indulge in on the day before you fast. Traditionally, Catholics eat rich, fatty foods the night before Lenten season, then repent their sins one last time before the piety begins. It’s a classic pre-game celebration, and because it’s such a great idea, lots of non-Christians have joined in on the Fat Tuesday festivities as well. Mardi Gras is a literal translation of “Fat Tuesday” in French, and you don’t even have to be Catholic to partake!

          France, a nation that proudly celebrates Carnival, is responsible for bringing the festivities to Louisiana. In 1699, on the eve of Lent, French-Canadian explorer Jean Baptiste Le Moyne Sieur de Bienville arrived on a plot near New Orleans and declared it the “Pointe du Mardi Gras.” I guess the people of New Orleans took that title and ran with it, because now the city is infamous for its rowdy pre-Lent party. Suffice it to say that the world has Catholicism to thank for this thrilling tradition.

Festivities

            The NOLA Mardi Gras celebration consists mainly of lavish parades, hosted by exclusive groups called Krewes. The Krewes, usually named for Classical heroes and Gods (Bacchus, Sparta, Dionysus, etc.), build their own floats, plan performances, and design costumes, all of which are shrouded in secrecy until the grand Mardi Gras reveal. Unless you’re one of the lucky few privies to a Krewe gathering, you’ll have to set up camp on the parade route to see the resulting masterpieces.

            Parades start as early as a month before Fat Tuesday and each follow different routes, though most of them travel west through the French Quarter. Festivalgoers stake out spots hours before the parade to socialize, dance, eat, drink, and generally cause a ruckus. I attended my first parade with some of Payton’s friends, who prepared an entire parade-side cookout. We hauled a charcoal grill and carts full of food to the street, where we commenced a needlessly elaborate barbecue. Our neighbors to the right blasted music from their boombox while the couple to our left danced in matching sequined outfits, and we offered hot dogs to both parties in the spirit of Mardi Gras abundance. I opted for a smoky veggie skewer, of course.

          Most parades are still led by Flambeaux—a line of flaming torches that were once crucial for providing light for the festivities. Even after the advent of streetlights, they remained a symbol of the party to follow. The Flambeaux announce the arrival of the Krewe and its parade: gargantuan floats, costumed dancers, and showers of petty treasures—namely beaded necklaces and plastic masks. Attendees crowd the floats as they pass by, pleading and performing for a chance to catch the krewe’s exclusive throws. Some of my favorite catches included a set of plush dice and a Krewe of Orpheus coin.

          Masks, the iconic symbol of Mardi Gras, allow wearers to temporarily transcend borders of class, status, race, and religion. They grant the wearer freedom to behave freely during the Carnival season. Masks lend to the liminality of the event; no one is who they usually are. You can find plastic masks littering the streets after a parade, but the best ones require exquisite craftsmanship and painstaking detail. I quite enjoyed perusing the mask shops on Bourbon Street, where each mask alluded to a different culture or time, from 18th century Commedia Dell’arte to 14th century plague doctors to ancient dramatic traditions all over the world.

     Now, Mardi Gras doesn’t have to be all booze and belligerence (although you’ll see plenty of that!). In the name of contextualizing the chaos, I have some travel recommendations for my readers.

Food

Union Ramen: Japanese cuisine curated by a Vietnamese chef and a Filipino restauranteur—a true melting pot! Try the beggar’s purse dumplings, the shishito peppers, and the miso ramen with oyster mushrooms.

Juan’s Flying Burrito: Creole-tinged Tex-Mex with an emphasis on burritos. Chips & queso are great, of course, but the vegetarian options are numerous; order the tofu Juaha roll, the veggie punk burrito, or the BBQ mushroom quesadillas.

The Vintage: a classy little café bar with a tantalizing selection of beignets, baked fresh daily with rotating flavors. They also serve hors d’oeuvres and wine if you’re into that. I was extremely tempted by the truffle parmesan fries.

San Lorenzo: an ode to coastal Italian cuisine nestled in the historic St. Vincent Hotel. The lounge is spacious, warmly lit, and the dishes showcase the diversity of flavors in NOLA. I recommend the zucchini fritti and the arugula salad.

Creole Creamery: a local ice cream joint with a large selection of novelty ice cream flavors ranging from lavender honey to petit four. My favorite was chocolate doberge, but the flavors rotate regularly. Go check out the new menu when you’re there!

NOLA Caye: a contemporary take on regional New Orleans cuisine, which is a hybrid of European, Indigenous American, African, and Caribbean flavors. Unfortunately, creole food leaves something to be desired for vegetarians, but Caye has struck a beautiful balance. They’re known for their seafood, but I loved the crispy plantains and the jalapeño-cheddar grits.

Bittersweet Confections: a quaint café/ bakery on Magazine St. They offer delectable pastries as well as a full breakfast-lunch menu. I practically inhaled my veggie wrap (okay, maybe I was just starving).

Sucre Bakery: a pastry haven. If you’re like me, you’ll be craving a traditional macaron in this French-influenced city. This bakery has every flavor of the delicate dessert that you can imagine, plus coffee and other baked goods. Even if you don’t like macarons, you’ll love seeing the vibrant rounds stacked in cake form behind the case.

Magnolia Sugar and Spice: a hot-sauce-shop-slash-bakery in the French Quarter that specializes in a classic nutty confection: the praline. Incredibly sweet and impossibly good; I wish I could load a whole suitcase full to take some home with me.

HONORARY MENTION- Auction House Market: a stunning food hall that WAS in the Warehouse District. Sadly, this co-op closed shortly after my visit, but it was so adorable that it deserved a mention here. The central bar was adorned with trailing plants and provided a perfect workspace for local professionals. The back room featured a gorgeous moss wall—I sat there sipping my latte and enjoying the botanical view for hours.

City History & Culture

Café du Monde: OKAY, you caught me, the first one is just more food. I came to realize that between creole cuisine and French pastries, food is a large part of NOLA culture. If you’re wondering where to find a classic New Orleans beignet, look no further—this is THE spot. Their outdoor stand in the French Market offers the full experience: freshly fried pastry dough copiously coated in powdered sugar that is simply *impossible* to not get all over your clothes and face. You can also sip a chicory coffee while you people watch, which is sure to be an exciting sport around Mardi Gras time.

French Quarter: the historic district around which everything in New Orleans revolves. This area has something for everyone: upscale boutiques, restaurants and bars, horse-drawn carriages, voodoo shops, and ghost tours that tackle NOLA’s dark history of slave torture. Bourbon Street, a 13-block stretch of bars and neon, plays host to late-night gatherings and streetside parties. This neighborhood showcases the wrought iron balconies and lush courtyards that characterize NOLA architecture.

Mississippi River: the waterfront bisects the French Quarter and offers a bustling snapshot of the city, with commemorative statues and street vendors galore. Throughout history, the river has signified commerce, but large industrial complexes blocked the waterfront from public access. Since the warehouses were removed in the 1970s, visitors have enjoyed the river with beachside picnics and riverboat tours.

The steps were strewn with party paraphernalia; I imagine they're usually much cleaner!

St. Louis Cathedral: the oldest continuously active church in the United States!!! Also known as the Cathedral-Basilica of Saint Louis King of France, this cathedral stands at the edge of the French Quarter and the Mississippi River, boasting jaw-dropping architecture and stained-glass art. The building undergoes regular renovations to reinforce the 200-year-old structure, but Catholics still attend Sunday morning service every week. Interestingly, the site has been a place of worship for even longer, but the original building was burned to the ground in 1788. The current cathedral has stood since 1793.

The Swamp: New Orleans belongs to a temperate deciduous forest biome with marshes all along its tributaries. These boggy inlets create one of the longest coastlines in the United States! Sadly, I did not encounter any gators while down in the bayou, but these forested wetlands play host to complex ecosystems with turtles, pelicans, mosses, and cypress trees, the latter of which play a vital role in protecting the swamp from soil erosion. The rough terrain of this fragile ecosystem has long protected New Orleans from Southern attacks, while providing access to important oceanic trade routes.

Buckner Mansion: built by a cotton kingpin in 1856, this mansion is one of many in the Garden District, featuring grandiose gates, stone columns, and not one, not two, but three ballrooms! The property is rumored to be haunted by the Buckner family’s slave, Josephine, which explains why it was chosen as the set for American Horror Story Season 3: Coven. Nowadays, ghost enthusiasts, AHS fans, and ambitious property buyers alike flock to the Buckner Mansion to admire the architecture and catch a glimpse of poor old Josephine.

Mardi Gras traffic only allowed a drive-by, unfortunately

          Though I had no idea what Mardi Gras in NOLA entailed, I was so grateful to discover southern hospitality, amazing food, and ritual transformation, all steeped in fascinating history. If I were to celebrate Mardi Gras in NOLA again (which is something I definitely plan on doing), I would arrive a week or two before Fat Tuesday to experience more parades from the other prominent Krewes. I would also reserve a spot on a ghost tour because WOW this city has some dark lineages. I did not have nearly enough time to explore all this city has to offer. However, my first Fat Tuesday celebration was an absolute riot, and it’s all thanks to Payton and the friendly people of N’awleans.

16.5 Things to See & Do in Central New Mexico

            We have reached the last chapter in my four-part road trip saga, and my final destination: New Mexico! I effectively procrastinated this article so long that I was forced to write it on the airplane—to a location which will be disclosed in the next article 😊 This is not to say, however, that New Mexico was not noteworthy. On the contrary, I found the state so lovely when I visited in May 2021 that I decided to return in November. I spent time in both Santa Fe and Albuquerque, and I have exactly sixteen and a half recommendations to share, should you find yourself in the area.

Santa Fe

          If, like me, you grew up listening to Broadway musical soundtracks, you might think of Santa Fe as the center of Bohemia, a mythical destination with powerful artistic allure. In Rent, Angel and Collins fantasize about leaving New York City for Santa Fe, singing “sunny Santa Fe would be nice!” And of course, no one can forget Jack Kelly of Newsies lamenting, “just a moon so big and yellow, it turns night right into day. Dreams come true in Santa Fe” in the famous song named after the city. Obviously, I played both songs on full blast on my drive into town.

            A spot of Santa Fe history before we proceed: this city boasts the oldest capitol city in the United States, as well as the oldest public building (La Palazza de Gobierno) and the oldest community celebration in the nation (La Fiesta de Santa Fe). New Mexican land transferred ownership a few times (Spain to Mexico to United States) before achieving statehood in 1912. Around that time, Anglo-Americans from the Eastern United States began to migrate to New Mexico, inspired by the expansive, breathtaking sceneries. These migrants decided to settle, creating Santa Fe’s reputation as a good place for artists to work and live. Santa Fe was viewed as “exotic” for its emphasis on indigenous art forms and its dry climate, which was thought to cure tuberculosis.  Art has always been central to the lives of Santa Fe inhabitants, from the days of the Spanish empire to the modern gallery scene. Today, Santa Fe is a major American tourist destination, with a thriving local art market that drives the city’s economy. The legacy of the native culture persists visibly in the art and architecture of the city, with unique zoning laws to preserve historic buildings such as traditional adobe houses in urban spaces. Basically, if you go to Santa Fe, go for the art!!

#1 Canyon Boulevard

          An outdoor shopping area with several streets lined with art galleries. The galleries are open weekdays, 9 am to 5 pm, so plan to spend a day there. I arrived later in the afternoon, so I only visited a handful of interior galleries, but there was a plethora of outdoor displays to behold. I took my time wandering the alleys and delighting in the colorful surprises around each corner. My absolute favorite was the wind sculpture garden at Wiford Gallery. I wound up there at sunset and it could not have been more enchanting.

#2 La Plaza

          The historic center of the city now plays host to a downtown area of restaurants, office buildings, museums, and you guessed it! More galleries! Some of these are open later than Canyon Boulevard, but you could still dedicate a whole day to perusing La Plaza’s unique architecture and selection of shops. You’ll walk right past the Palace of the Governor, as you pass the contemporary, upscale fine art galleries, but if you’re patient, street vendors will peddle their masterpieces to you at slightly more affordable rates. Besides, the streets are lined with sculptures and murals-you can get an eyeful without spending a dime!

#3 Los Museos (Museums)

          After the influx of Anglo-American immigrants in the early 1900s, the city of Santa Fe began to emphasize art culture and quickly opened a native art museum (New Mexico Museum of Art) to increase the momentum from tourism. Since then, the city has welcomed five more art museums, as well as several other museums dedicated to the cultural heritage and history of the city. I personally only had time to visit the IAIA Museum of Contemporary Native Arts, however the Georgia O’Keefe Museum and the Museum of International Folk Art are both internationally renowned. When I left, I vowed to return to visit all the museums I missed.

#4 House of Eternal Return

          YUSSS! Meow Wolf’s first ever permanent installation is housed in Santa Fe, and that should tell you all you need to know about this city as the Art Capital of the American West. Unless that would be Los Angeles. Anyway…you can read my full review of House of Eternal Return in my article on Immersive Art, but suffice to say that Meow Wolf’s humble origins still blows most immersive art exhibits out of the water. Unlike the newer exhibits, HoER is mainly sculpture based, taking attendees on a psychedelic adventure through a family’s home that is trapped between dimensions. I went by myself and spent four hours inside the exhibit, fully unpacking every element of the expansive narrative. I also made friends in there! If you want to go, plan your time accordingly.

#5 La Fiesta de Santa Fe

          La Fiesta de Santa Fe: An honorary mention, because I wasn’t in town at the right part of the year to witness this cultural festival, but I have studied it, and it’s a huge bucket list item for me. The festivities begin in the beginning of September and continue for about a week, including elaborate reenactments of the Spanish conquest, dance and theater performances, parades, and a thrilling, symbolic burning of a giant effigy named Zozobra. The entire fiesta is a celebration of the unity of the Pueblo and the Spanish cultures, and a dream ethnography for an anthropologist like me!

#6 The Flying Tortilla

          A Mexican American breakfast joint with fabulous chilaquiles (fried tortillas with tomato sauce and eggs) y chile rellenos vegetarianos (breaded poblano peppers stuffed with veggies and cheese)

#7 Café Castro

          A Mexican restaurant that boasted the most impressive array of vegetarian options I have ever seen! I opted for the tamales, which I have been craving since I gave up meat two years ago!

#8 Annapurna’s World Vegetarian Café

          A Santa Fe veggie staple, from what I understand. It’s known for its hearty, flavorful vegetarian cuisine from around the world, including Indian, Lebanese, and of course, New Mexican dishes. My uncle and I are both naturally inclined towards Indian food, so we enjoyed a sampling of dal (lentils), subzi (vegetable) curry, and rice. We ordered take out, so I can’t say much of the restaurant’s ambience….until I get to the Albuquerque section, and you’ll see why.

#9 Dale Balls Trail

          I hiked this trail system in early May and was enamored by the vibrant, unexpected color in the desert: brilliantly red cactus blooms, fuzzy pastel-colored lichens, and the occasional yellowing weed struggling to survive in the sand. I hiked to a height of 8500 feet where I happened upon 360 views- in one direction, Santa Fe’s low skyline, and in the other direction, arid landscapes as far as the eye could see.

#10 Bandelier National Monument

          Okay, this one is technically in the town of Los Alamos, New Mexico, about an hour outside of Santa Fe. This national monument preserves mesa and canyon landscapes that have been settled for over 1,000 years, first by the Ancestral Puebloans and then by Spanish colonizers. Adobe structures and cliff dwellings still stand within the park, and visitors are invited to climb the rocky crags to experience life in a cliffside. The weather was perfect in November—if you go during the summer, be sure to bring a hat and sunscreen as the walking trails are mostly unshaded.

Albuquerque

          Admittedly, Albuquerque never had the appeal that Santa Fe once had for me. I had always wanted to experience Santa Fe, my Mecca as a musical theater student. My uncle recently completed his PhD in Los Alamos, a nearby town, and I reached out to him about my visit, which was very spontaneous…as in the day before. By pure coincidence, he had moved to Santa Fe mere weeks before I wrote to him; he hosted me that weekend and the whole trip worked out beautifully and serendipitously.

          But when my playwriting colleagues from undergrad told me they were moving to Albuquerque, I wanted to ask, “why?!”  Beckie and Brayden, some of my closest college friends, desperately needed a change of scenery a few months into the pandemic. I promised them I would come to visit, and I made it the grand finale of my cross-country road trip. Nevertheless, I enjoyed my time in Albuquerque, and found it to be a quirky, interesting place where I would like to spend more time.

          In my experience, Albuquerque contrasts Santa Fe in many ways. While Santa Fe is the state’s capital and cultural center, Albuquerque has served as an important trading center since its founding in 1706, serviced by several major railroads, airlines, and highways. The city has a markedly more urban feel to it, despite being bounded by the Sandia Mountains to the north, the Manzano Mountains to the East, lava fields to the West, and the Rio Grande River through the center. One of Albuquerque’s major draws is its low cost of living compared to other major cities in the Southwest, and especially when compared to Santa Fe.

#11 Anodyne

          A relaxed billiard hall/ pub on Central Ave, in a prime spot downtown. I enjoyed a margarita; I’ve heard they also serve perfectly cooked tacos. I’m not the best at pool, but I was enthused to discover a modest array of pinball machines in the back of the dimly lit establishment. Pinball has kinda been my thing recently—more on that later—so it really made my night to shoot a few rounds on The Addams Family machine!

#12 Effex

          As a raver, I’ve seen my fair share of clubs across the country (and even across the globe). Each has its own merits, and some have none (ahem, Skully’s in Columbus). With Effex, I was most impressed by the variety in music and the rowdiness of the crowd. When we arrived at around 10 pm, I watched four girls fall down the stairs within five minutes of each other. Everyone had gone all out with their costumes, and the highlight of the night was easily when Bohemian Rhapsody began to play and a spotlight illuminated a man next to us who turned out to be Freddie Mercury In the Flesh!!! With his wife beater and mustache, he was indistinguishable from the real Freddie, and the entire crowd egged him on as he performed a dramatic rendition of the legendary six-minute song. We ended up befriending Freddie Mercury—he was a fun dude!

Effex

#13 Salt & Board

          An intimate, upscale charcuterie restaurant that my friend, Brayden, proudly manages. He treated us to a lovely night of sweet and salty samplings, with my favorites being the spicy mustard and the array of soft cheeses. My tip for charcuterie dining—pay attention when your server tells you what’s on the board. I know Brayden was frustrated when we asked him what everything was for the fourth time, but some foods are more self-explanatory than others, okay?!

#14 Vinaigrette

          A gourmet salad bistro in Old Town. Of course, restaurants with several good vegetarian options will always earn my vote, but this one really captivated me with its cozy nature-based aesthetic. At the beginning of November, it was still warm enough for us to sit on the patio and soak up some desert rays. I was utterly amused by the succulents on each table that had grown so vigorously they had cracked their clay pots. The food was delicious as well, with excellent service.

#15 Watrous Coffee House

          A spacious, modern coffee shop with huge windows for ample natural light. I’m no coffee connoisseur, so I make no remarks in that regard, but I was very pleased with my pastry and *the vibes*

#15.5 Annapurna’s World Vegetarian Café

          My friend Brayden raved about this place, but I never connected the dots! The cafe building hosts an Ayurvedic cooking school, and the exterior murals depict Shiva, the Hindu destroyer god, so naturally my interest was heightened. However, I didn’t realize that this was another location of the restaurant in Santa Fe until months later! So, I tried the food in Santa Fe (amazing) and I experienced the environment in Albuquerque (also amazing) and therefore my overall review of the chain is this: amazing! BUT to be fair, I think a second location should only be considered ½ of a destination.

Annapurnas

#16.5 Pino Trail

          A relatively flat yet scenic trek through the foothills of the Sandia Mountain Wilderness area. My playwriting friends were particularly fond of this trail for its proximity to their apartment. On this hike, I was drawn to the textures of the desert. Bushels of cactus spines appeared fuzzy and wild grasses contorted into tiny curlicues. We stopped hiking after a mile or so to attempt (with varying levels of success) to climb a boulder. Eventually, we all ended up on rocks and snapped some cute shots.  

          There you have it: 16.5 things to do and see in central New Mexico! I found both Santa Fe and Albuquerque to be exciting cities with tons of engaging activities, from indulging my inner foodie to marveling at the natural sceneries. Of course, it helped that my friends and family in the state are positively wonderful people. New Mexico is a big state; there’s plenty I haven’t seen and for that reason, I will surely be back within the next few years. Carlsbad Caverns, I’m coming for you!

Historical States of America

          A lot of people were surprised to hear that I embarked upon my cross-country road trip alone. As tempting as it was to recruit a friend to come along, traveling solo is just so liberating—and so much easier, frankly! All I had to worry about was me- my belongings, my schedule, my bucket list. I made time for the things I wanted to do and rested when I was tired. Plus, I had plenty of friends to meet up with along the journey, so I never had to worry about getting lonely.

          Now that I’m home safe and sound, I am very proud to announce that only two things went wrong on the entire trip. I did lose my debit card in Virginia, but I had several other cards, so I was able to cancel it immediately and move on with no further thought. However, the biggest catastrophe was a story that I started in my previous article. Not only did I become frighteningly ill in a muddy festival campground, but I also inadvertently passed my illness (at the time, I thought it was food poisoning!) to my friends Georgia and Aron in Columbus. We all made it out alive, but the saga continues…

          Apparently, some stomach viruses (like norovirus) can be transmitted both through improper food handling and through interpersonal contact. I blame an order of unsettling tater tots at Lost Lands for my breakthrough as Patient Zero. That’s why I thought nothing of it when Skyler reported feeling ill on the morning of the Eberhart wedding, almost two whole weeks after I had recovered from my infirmity. However, Norovirus is highly transmissible and apparently, quite rampant around this time of year. My best guess is that Skyler was in the wrong place with the wrong person at the Cleveland Airport.

          Being the great sport that he is, Sky made it through an entire day of wedding festivities—church rituals, greeting strangers, meals, photographs—before excusing himself. It wasn’t until later that I recognized his symptoms as my own from a few weeks prior: vomiting, weakness, inability to regulate body temperature, and above all else, an intolerable, wrenching gut pain that feels like your organs are trying to destroy themselves. Never have I experienced empathy on such a direct level than when I was watching Sky suffer from the worst virus I have ever had.

            That said, Sky was feeling better as fast as he had begun feeling sick—for both of us, the dreaded norovirus lasted no longer than 24 hours. Rather than boot and rally for a dubstep festival, though, Sky simply had to make it through the drive to Pennsylvania the following morning. We bid adieu to the bridal party and set off for Quakertown: Skyler’s hometown and the current residence of his father’s family.

Q-Mart: Quakertown, Pennsylvania

          As the name may suggest, this part of Pennsylvania is historically known as the home of the Quakers, a religious group with roots in Protestant Christianity. When they gained popularity during the 17th century, the Quakers were considered radical for their beliefs in pacifism, spiritual equality between genders, and religious freedom. Their settlements in the American colonies were hugely formative for the religious ethic in the United States, though the Quakers have long since moved on from the city that adopted their name.

          Sky and I’s journey to Quakertown was much less a quest for religious freedom than it was one for family amendments. Though he has some not-so-great memories there from his childhood, I found it quite charming. Quakertown’s biggest appeal is the regionally famous Quakertown Market, a combination flea market/ farmer’s market/ bizarre liminal space that is open every week from Friday through Sunday. I heard plenty of stories about the affectionately named “Q-Mart,” ranging from whole boar heads being carted around to illicit drug deals in the corner stalls to alligators freely roaming the aisles. That said, nothing could really prepare me for the oddity that is Q-Mart. Each stall offers something unique, with some being fairly run-of-the-mill (like Sky’s stepmom’s all-natural body shop) and others being ridiculously specific (such as the vendor exclusively offering remotes).  I greatly enjoyed the few hours I spent browsing the labyrinth of the Q-Mart.

          Our other highlight from Quakertown was Sky and I’s FIRST EDIBLE FUNGUS FIND! Our eyes had been peeled since our bountiful harvest in Ohio (read about it in Magical Midwest), so when Sky told me he spotted a unique growth on a tree in his neighbor’s backyard, my interest was piqued! We ventured back to the yard one afternoon and sure enough, visible from the street, there was a massive formation of coral tooth fungus dripping off the side of the tree.

          Don’t try this at home, folks! We grabbed some aluminum foil and pried a big chunk of the growth off the tree, leaving plenty behind for the inhabitants of the nearby woods and for the purpose of future sporulation. When we got home, we double and triple checked our initial identification across several sources. When we broke the growth into pieces, tiny teeth-like gills on every surface confirmed our suspicion. We had found an edible AND choice species! With a little butter, the coral’s tooth fungus grills up in a shockingly similar way and taste to chicken. It tasted SO FRESH, too! My veggie heart was very happy. Of course, we didn’t die, so we know the specimen wasn’t poisonous.

Underwhelming Bell: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

          Sky’s hometown is a mere forty minutes outside of Philadelphia, our country’s first capital city after the American Revolution. Naturally, I was intrigued by Philly’s rich history, so we made a day trip out to see some of the sights!

            That…was a mistake. I know that Philadelphia has an appeal for some people, but I am not one of them. First, as I was driving into the city and trying to park near the Liberty Bell (first mistake!), I took ONE wrong turn and ended up across the river in Jersey. I did not want to be in Jersey on purpose, let alone on accident! I had to pay a $5 toll just to get back into Philly!

            Then, I nearly had to square up with a meter maid. No sooner than I had stepped out of my car and walked to the parking kiosk did she come over and scan my license plate. I waved at her and told her I was paying- she insisted that I should have stayed with the car (???).

            Our first stop was the Liberty Bell, and I was pleased that the entrance fee was free because the bell was quite underwhelming. I’m not even going to make a joke about how it’s cracked. It’s just surprisingly small, standing all on its own in a big room. Then, Independence Hall was shrouded in construction. I did enjoy seeing Benjamin Franklin’s grave, though, and then sitting in the park across the street to watch the squirrels.

          Sky and I walked a few blocks away from city center to South Street, another hallmark of Philadelphia culture. We explored Repo Records, a used bookstore called “Mostly Books,” and enjoyed the extensive mosaic street art by Isaiah Zagar. His mosaic murals were once confined to one wall of a small building near his studio—an effort to revitalize the downtown area. As his unconventional public art grew in popularity, his murals began to stretch across other buildings and infect other parts of Philadelphia. In 2002, Philadelphia Magic Gardens purchased the property on which his mosaics resided to preserve his work for future public enjoyment. And here we are, publicly enjoying it! I found this story quite interesting, as Zagar’s mosaics were one of the few things in Philly that I did not find unsightly and disgusting.

          Sky and I decided rather quickly to ditch our downtown parking spot and head up towards Manayunk, the neighborhood where my friend Madison lives! Madison and I met when we were roomies in Hyderabad in 2019. Since then, I’ve seen her in a lot of different places, from New York to Tennessee to Colorado, but I hadn’t seen her new apartment in Philly. When we arrived, one of my other friends from Hyderabad and Madison’s partner, Eli, was waiting for us, as well. I got to meet their turtle, Edmund, and we all enjoyed a delicious dinner of Thai takeout. I spent just one night with them before seeing Sky off (he sadly had to go back to work in CO). I journeyed to my next destination the following day, but not before completing my quest for the holy grail: a plant-based Philly cheesesteak. Silly, I know, but I found one made from tofu that tasted nothing like cheesesteak. It still hit the spot!

Taylor Swift's Infuriatingly Massive Beach House: Westerly, Rhode Island

          Madison, Eli, and I formed a caravan as we headed north to Allison’s place of residence in Westerly, Rhode Island. Allison is another of my good friends from Hyderabad, and it is rare that we all get together, so Madison, Eli, and I were happy to make the arduous drive through Connecticut for a chance to reconnect. Did you know that there is only one highway that goes through CT—I-95—and it is apparently plagued by bumper-to-bumper traffic at all times of the day?  The drive was infuriating.

          However, it was all worth it when we made it to Allison’s family’s gorgeous house, located just five minutes from the beach. A little shack with a sign boasting “Fresh Lobster” welcomed me to New England, and I could already feel a shift from the volatile atmosphere of Philadelphia and New York. As I pulled into her neighborhood, I spotted an impressive patch of fungus, featuring suede boletes (edible!) and Coker’s amanitas (highly toxic!), though it took me the better part of my stay to accurately identify these species.  

          Allison, who has been bragging to us about her New England upbringing for years, was more than happy to take us around Westerly. The first iconic stop was East Beach, which hosts a lighthouse that is especially quaint at sunrise and sunset. We stopped in the first night and witnessed a brilliant display of oranges and reds as the sun rose behind low clouds. East Beach is also where Taylor Swift has her beach house, which is—you guessed it—infuriatingly massive. I mean, no one even lives there most of the year! We did spot someone moving around in the living room, though…maybe her parents?

          On the second day, we visited the Newport Island cliff walk to take a scenic stroll above the beach and ogle at the other coastal mansions. We also went to the Umbrella Factory, a cute little village of local shops and restaurants that offer a variety of adorable Rhode Island souvenirs. The Umbrella Factory was also home to a full pond of ducks, a coop of rowdy chickens, a bamboo forest, some goats, and a very angry looking alpaca. As tempted as I was by all the handmade shell windchimes, I was plenty satisfied befriending the animals and discovering little families of grey bonnet mushrooms among the towering bamboo.

          On my final day in the smallest state in the country, Allison and I returned to East Beach for the sunset, and what a lovely way to bookend this section of the trip! As the sun sank below the watery horizon, creating an ombre of fiery tones on one side, the full moon rose on the other side, creating a breathtaking fade of pinks and purples. It was the most stunning sunset I have seen in a long time.

Cannoli Feud: Boston, Massachusetts

          When my time in Rhode Island was up, I took the commuter rail from Providence into Boston, where I was met by Cecelia, yet another of my friends from Hyderabad. Cecelia is the coolest and wisest art history nerd you’ll ever meet, so you can imagine my delight at being able to go on a walking tour of this historical city with her.

          We bustled twelve miles across the city that day as we hit all the sights: Boston Harbor, the Freedom Trail, Faneuil Hall, Boston Common & Gardens, Trinity Church, Boston Public Library, Capitol building, and the Hatch Memorial Shell outdoor amphitheater. We even got to witness a [pretty pathetic] reenactment of the Boston Tea Party!

          Cecelia brought me to Flour, her favorite sandwich shop in the city. For dessert, she enamored me with a thrilling tale of two feuding Italian American families who have long competed for best cannoli in Boston. Ultimately, she brought me to her personal favorite, Modern Pastry, and I have nothing to compare it to, but it was a pretty damn good cannoli! We each built our own, with Cecelia opting for crumbled pistachios on the ends while I went with the more traditional chocolate chip-dipped ricotta filling.

Olde Mystick Village: Mystic, Connecticut

          After Boston, I had officially reached the northernmost point of my route. I stopped in Connecticut briefly on the way back South and decided to take a gander through the famous Olde Mystick Village. Much like the Umbrella Factory in Rhode Island, Mystick Village boasted an assortment of hippy dippy and other novelty stores. Allison and I had a blast sampling exotic honey flavors at Sticky Situations and fancy spreads at Extra Virgin Oil Store. I was completely enthralled by several other niche stores, such as Alice in the Village, an Alice in Wonderland themed tea shop, and Cloak & Wand, a Harry Potter inspired metaphysical supply store. While wandering through Dharma Jewel, a “Tibetan” store (I say ironically because the owner was white), Allison and I got a kick out of the exorbitant prices of henna cones, as we both remembered learning to do henna with cones that cost 10 rs. (about $0.13 USD) in India. Of course, the white shop owner had something to say about the cost of importation.

Don't Tread On Me: New York City, New York

          Sadly, my time in New England had come to an end. Luckily, the drive southbound through Connecticut was far more pleasant than it had been northbound, and I rolled into Mount Vernon, New York City right on time to check into my AirBnB and meet up with my friend Jen. Jen and I met when we studied abroad in Yucatan, Mexico, and we bonded over our mutual fondness of the moon! Funnily enough, Jen was the last friend who I visited, in New York City, just as the COVID restrictions hit the first time. We said goodbye to one another in a panic as the Big Apple shut down on a frightening scale. Thus, seeing Jen in NYC again was a fabulous way to bookend the pandemic (if I can be so bold as to assume the worst of it is over).

          Jen moved upstate because of the pandemic, so we were both equally excited to get back into the city and check out some its exciting exhibitions. Our first stop was “Treasures,” a free public exhibition hosted by the New York Public Library. “Treasures” displayed just that: treasures of all origins and values from throughout American history. Some highlights include the original written draft of the Bill of Rights, original illustrations from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, set models of famous Broadway musicals In the Heights and Sunday in the Park with George (rest in power Stephen Sondheim!!!), and the original written draft of George Washington’s farewell address. Seeing the latter document in our first president’s own handwriting made me more emotional than I was expecting. Much of his advice is more relevant than ever now, especially his pleas to avoid political polarization.

          We stopped at Jajaja, a vegan taco restaurant in the West Village, for some scrumptious plant-based eats since Jen and I are both vegetarian. 

          Then, we booked it over to “Happy Go Lucky,” an immersive art experience that I found in an internet search. Unfortunately, I cannot be pressed to recommend this exhibit to anyone. The design was poorly thought out and even more poorly executed. Very little about this exhibit could honestly be considered “immersive.” However, there were some fun moments, and the employees served us chocolate popcorn as a treat at the end!

          After the art exhibit, we were on to Fraunces Tavern, where George Washington delivered his celebratory speech just after the British troops withdrew from the American colonies. This building now doubles as a museum, with a replica of the original tavern upstairs, and a functional, old-timey tavern on the first floor. This museum was also surprisingly moving, with several thoughtful exhibitions that critically examined the modernization of old flags and patriotic phrases such as “Don’t Tread on Me.” Of course, Jen and I stopped for a drink on the way out. You know, to get the full American experience! Then we made our way over to Clinton Street for a dinner at Ivan Ramen. We both enjoyed veggie noodle bowls before trudging back to the train that would take us North to our AirBnB.

National Mall: Washington D.C.

          The next day was another long day, as I had never been to Washington D.C. and I had only allotted myself a single day to explore it all. In hindsight, I would have planned several more days in D.C. Admittedly, I was expecting my tour of the national mall to be extremely dull and dry (i.e. “this is where President Carter stood when he spoke on October 11. This is where President Reagan stood when he spoke on May 14. Etc.). I could not have been more wrong! Our nation’s capital, even the downtown area, is full of art, nature, and knowledge. The best part of all: it’s 100% FREE!

          I had no one to meet in D.C., so let me tell you, I speed ran the National Mall like no other. I started in the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History and invested the most time there, it being my most anticipated destination. I enjoyed every exhibit, and especially loved how every path through the museum seemed to paint a narrative of life, death, and rebirth. The exhibit of taxidermy animal specimens was striking—until I wandered into the next room and saw each of the specimens’ intricate skeletons! The exhibit on Egyptian history also resonated greatly with me.

          Next, I meandered down the National Mall and visited each of the public gardens: the National Gallery sculpture garden, the Hirshorn sculpture garden, the Smithsonian pollinator garden, the national botanical garden, and the Enid A. Haupt Smithsonian garden.

         At Cecelia’s suggestion, I went inside the Hirshorn (Smithsonian Museum of Modern Art) to peruse the new Laurie Anderson exhibit. Thank goodness I did, because it was one of the most powerful collections of art that I have experienced since before the pandemic.

          Laurie Andersen, a multi-media artist, built each of the rooms in this exhibit. Many featured small projections mapped onto innovative backgrounds, with people and animals repeating phrases in monotone. Others showed videos of Andersen’s performances, excerpts of her writing, and parts of her photo projects. The one that stood out the most was an experiment she performed where she would fall asleep in public and then document the dreams she had while sleeping. Her writing on the topic has certainly stuck with me for many months. My absolute favorite part of this exhibit, though, was the room that was painted floor to ceiling with nonsense phrases. Just a few unrelated sculptures filled the room, with the main attraction being the hand-painted words scribbled across every surface. Some of my favorite Andersen gibberish includes:

          “Books are the way the dead talk to the living”

          “Who owns the moon?”

          “The many kinds of silence: The silence after you’ve said something really stupid. The silence in the middle of a deserted street at midnight. The silence after you’ve prayed.”

          I took my sweet time marveling at Laurie Andersen’s meticulous paint job. Then, realizing that I had only a few hours before everything on the National Mall closed, I practically ran to the Library of Congress. I did not get to go inside due to construction, but I did get to view the exterior of the building, as well as the US Supreme Court Building, the US Capitol Building, and the Washington Monument. I finished up my afternoon in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, which was also mostly closed for construction, and then took a sunset walk to see the White House and some of the other stunning architecture in Washington D.C.

          There’s no way I could have accomplished that much if I had anyone else with me, and I still feel like I need another week in D.C. to check out the hordes of museums I missed. There you have it- that’s why you should travel alone. Because you can see three museums, five gardens, and five national monuments in a single day if you resist the urge to stop for ice cream. After visiting so many cities that were integral to the history and creation of America, I absolutely had newfound awe for my country, and I still had plenty of awe-inspiring destinations to hit. Make sure to subscribe so you can get notified of my next article documenting my travels through the American South and its stunning natural scenery!

Magical Midwest

          I’ve been road tripping 😊 I got back last week, and I’ve finally had a chance to collect my thoughts. Eight weeks of traveling solo really took it out of me!

          I had been wanting to do a big trip after I graduated last May, but COVID-19 wiped out my plans for the year, as I’m sure you can all understand. When restrictions loosened, my wanderlust mixed with continued skepticism about leaving the country. Then, I realized that the pandemic had scattered my closest friends across the Eastern United States, many of them to places I had never been!

            My lease in Boulder ended in September, so I quit my job, packed up my new-to-me Subaru Crosstrek, and set off. I was fortunate enough to be able to stay with friends along the way, and I brought my portable camp stove so I could save money on meals. I spent the first three weeks or so in the Midwest, and what a magical three weeks it was! Ohio, especially, is the brunt of a lot of jokes when it comes to states that are “interesting” or “important” or “nice to live in.” I must admit, after finishing my undergraduate in Ohio, I do have a soft spot for this…ahem…irrelevant state. In my most recent travels, however, I discovered what Ohio is great for. Mushroom hunting!!!

          The proudest day in my mycology career was the day I spent in Cuyahoga Valley National Park, Ohio. I saw hundreds of specimens while hiking just six or seven miles through the woods, including the prized amanita muscaria.

          If you don’t recognize this picturesque toadstool from fairytale illustrations, you might know it from the Super Mario Bros. franchise. This one was hiding coyly under a leaf, not two yards from the trail. I’m so glad I looked in that direction because I’ve been hunting for one of these elusive morsels for years. The “Fly Agaric” mushroom IS psychoactive, though it is not the strain commonly referred to as “magic mushroom” (psilocybe cubensis). This specimen has a long entheogenic history in shamanic traditions all over the world. In Siberia, indigenous mystics would ingest the caps and relay their experiences as transcendental visions, prophetic communications from the world above.

            No, I didn’t try it. It’s illegal to remove anything from a national park, and anyway, I didn’t have the materials to make a proper spore print. I decided not to disturb the forest for my own selfish curiosity. I still felt quite blessed to have seen the specimen at all, and I finished my forage with a newfound appreciation for the muggy air that I had always hated about Ohio. Thanks to the humidity, I saw more fungal growth that one day than I’ve ever seen in Colorado (hint: I haven’t been looking in the right places)!

            Besides the treasured amanita muscaria, I saw several other gems on my adventure throughout the American Midwest. My first stop on the long journey was a music festival on the Kansas/ Missouri border, and that weekend alone provided enough stimulation to last me through a whole new lockdown.

Dancefestopia: LaCygne, Kansas

          Dancefestopia Music and Arts Festival is a relatively small electronic music festival held at Wildwood Outdoor Education Center. Accordingly, the 10,000 attendees are essentially overgrown children covered in dirt and glitter, gathering in a field to dance, play, and trade tie-dye and other trinkets. It’s a very PLUR (peace, love, unity, respect) vibe and the fest falls on my little sis’ birthday weekend, so we always try to go.

          My secret to affording music festivals is simple: I volunteer at them. Like many other fests, Dancefestopia offers a highly discounted ticket ($50) in exchange for a set number of hours worked during the event, and it’s a great way to make new friends. We saw artists with the likes of Jai Wolf, Troyboi, Rezz, and GRiZ. We also chilled in hammocks by the lake, got a treat from our favorite festival food truck (SPACE FRUIT!), and met up with all sorts of great people—the highlight of the weekend for me was seeing my old friend Cece. We originally met at Resonance Music & Arts Festival in PA in 2019. When we found out we would both be at Dancefest, we made plans to meet up, but inevitably, I lost service once we arrived at the campgrounds. It was purely by luck that we ran into each other because we did so past our meeting time and not anywhere close to our meeting spot. Ah, the magic of festivals!

Convergence Station: Denver, Colorado

          After Dancefest, I left my car in Iowa and flew back to Denver for a short stint. I had a couple of appointments, but more importantly, the new Denver Meow Wolf exhibit was having its grand opening! Naturally, I snagged tickets for opening day. You can find my full review of Convergence Station in my post about Immersive Art, but suffice it to say that Meow Wolf is reason enough to travel 800 miles out of the way.

Morton Arboretum: Chicago, Illinois

          I flew back to the Des Moines airport and began the car-only part of my trip, setting off for Chicago. I had never driven in Chicago, so I was somewhat unnerved to find myself driving long stretches in underground tunnels with stop lights lurking past every twist and turn. Tunnel driving is stressful enough—why further complicate it with surprise hazards?!

          Buena Park, a neighborhood nestled along the Western coast of Lake Michigan, is home for Caleb, one of my dear friends from college, and his eccentric Maine Coon, Huey. I spent one evening with him, catching up and hearing about all the cats he watches in the city.

          We had an early start the following morning, as he was off to cat sit and I wanted to hit an art exhibit before leaving the state. Then I was southbound, winding underneath the Chicago River once again as I exited the city.

          I arrived at the Morton Arboretum a bit early, during members-only hours, but the kind lady at the visitor center didn’t seem to mind. This was the first time I had ever visited a sanctuary like this, and it wasn’t just for the trees—through Spring 2022, Morton Arboretum plays host to a five-part installation by one of my favorite multi-media artists, Daniel Popper. I first experienced his work in Tulum, Mexico, and again several years later at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Human + Nature, as this installation is named, is my favorite of his so far; it is the largest in scale and beautifully complemented by the serene natural surroundings of the arboretum. The five sculptures were in five different parts of the park, each one the thematic centerpiece of the plants around it. Visitors were encouraged to touch and explore, although not climb, the life size sculptures. It is impossible to say which one I liked the best because they were all creatively stunning in their own ways.

Lost Lands: Thornville, Ohio

          Upon completing my tour of Morton Arboretum, I made for Ohio, my ex-state of residence which I remember fondly (although I can’t say I would ever move back). I was on to the second music festival of my trip: Lost Lands. This festival is markedly bigger, heavier, and crazier than Dancefest, with a prehistoric theme that utilizes life sized animatronic dinosaurs throughout the grounds. In the past, I have considered Lost Lands “home,” but this year, the LL gods did not smile on me.

          I drove into a nasty thunderstorm in Indiana that followed me all the way to Thornville. Catastrophically, torrential rain hit as the first wave of attendees were pulling into their campsites and unloading their gear. The downpour continued for several hours, transforming the dusty fields into saturated mud pits, and placing a bleak damper on the fun to come. Luckily, I was stationed in the information tent for my first volunteer shift, so I was shielded from the angry sky, but we had no power, no heat, and tragically, no service. Everyone else was hiding out in their cars, so we didn’t answer many informational questions that first night, but I did make friends with some lovely gals named Liz and Emily, who had come all the way from Massachusetts.

          Sadly, the morning of Day 0 (the pre-party) did not look up from the night before. The grounds remained soaked to the point that festival organizers began turning attendees away. That mess was unbeknownst to me, for I had woken up in the backseat camper of my Crosstrek with a terrible feeling in my gut. What I initially thought was an adverse reaction to the tater tots I had eaten the night before quickly made itself known as a stomach virus—easily the worst one I have ever experienced. I was unable to keep even a sip of water down, and I was crippled by a grinding pain in my abdomen. I was camped by myself, on the outskirts of a muddy field, with my car tires completely sunk into the mud. As a volunteer, I had been placed in the farthest possible “worker” campsite, several miles down the road from the event grounds in rural Ohio. Food and water were a bumpy twenty-minute bus ride away; port-a-potties were at least thirty minutes by foot. In my condition, I couldn’t get more than five feet from my vehicle.

          Around noon, I ran out of water and began to panic. I was still violently ill, the festival was in the early stages of last-minute cancellation, and I had no way out of my situation. I befriended a fellow staff member who offered me some medicine to get my nausea under control. When I could finally stand without retching, I was able to flag over an on-site tractor to tow me out of the mud. For the record, I have all-wheel drive and “X-MODE,” whatever that is. When I say I was STUCK in the mud, you know what I mean.

          Miraculously, I got my car to move, and I got my organs to stop moving just long enough to drive to Columbus, just over an hour away from the festival. I sought refuge with Georgia, an absolute angel who was my roommate all through undergrad. I cannot understate how lucky I was to have her during this tribulation. She might have literally saved my life with her electrolyte mix. After a day of resting on her couch and cautiously sucking on ice chips, I was able to keep some fluids, and then some food, in my system. By the time music was starting on Lost Lands Day 1, I had regained enough strength to return to the festival and rage!

          The lineup for 2021 was INSANE and I saw a ton of my favorite DJs who I had never seen before, including ARMNHMR, Crystal Skies, Trivecta, and Fancy Monster. Most people think of Lost Lands as a heavy dubstep festival (which it is!), but the lineup of artists is so diverse and so stacked that you can really pick and choose between genres of dubstep you like. For me, that’s melodic bass, so I hardly spent any time headbanging! Despite a rocky start, Lost Lands turned out to be an amazing weekend, filled with good music and good vibes.

Columbus, Ohio

          On Monday morning after the festival’s conclusion, I set off for Columbus again, this time ailed by an acute case of post-festival depression. My digestive tract was finally feeling back to normal, and my spirits were high—up until my arrival at Georgia’s loft in the Short North, where I discovered that I had inadvertently passed my sickness to Georgia and her boyfriend. They were recovering slowly and luckily for me; they were only mildly amused and not at all upset that I had ruined their weekend. I stayed with Georgia and Aron for a week or so and tried to redeem myself for putting them through a forcible digestive cleanse, as we took to calling it. I can’t speak for them, but my intestines had been completely reset once the whole thing was said and done.

          Georgia and Aron showed me around several parts of Columbus, including a bunch of delightful restaurants and eateries. My favorites were Fox in the Snow, a local coffee shop that served a souffle egg sandwich; Pistacia Vera, a French bakery that was just as pleasing for the eye as it was for the tongue; and Eden Burger, a plant-based fast-food joint whose fries were to die for. They also took me to the Columbus Art Museum and the Franklin Park Conservatory & Botanical Gardens—both stunning. The former destination offered a special exhibition on the work of Columbus artist Aminah Robinson, while the latter featured hundreds of breathtaking installations by glassblower Dave Chihuly. 

          While in Columbus, I also had a chance to stay with Margo, my friend and mentor from college, her boyfriend Jackson, with whom I was previously acquainted but never knew well, and their rather interesting cat Rosaline. Margo helped me infiltrate the Ohio State University library so I could get some work done, and I learned some fascinating things about the OSU mascot, Brutus. You probably know of the Ohio State Buckeyes, but did you know that the mascot is a literal buckeye? Not a squirrel or a groundhog or any other creature that might serve as an ambassador for a buckeye, but an actual nut with eyes and legs? Apparently, Brutus has had a long, dark history. The mascot suit has undergone many changes since the institution of modern college mascots, and I’ll let you all be the judge of which iteration is the creepiest. My vote is for 1975.

          Margo is a member of CorePower Yoga. She encouraged me to finally cash in my three free classes and I had a blast, even though I hadn’t done hot vinyasa in a long time and thought I was going to die at times. The owner asked if I wanted to teach there and I had to explain that my own Yoga practice doesn’t necessarily align with the CorePower model, which tends to prioritize fitness and body image over stillness and intrinsic awareness. She seemed somewhat offended that I brought this up, but she agreed that, CorePower’s “whole shtick” is fitness. Still, I believe it is important to have conversations about the histories and cultural contexts of the practices we market for commercial gain. To me, it seems that CorePower uses the word “Yoga” to attract paying audiences to a practice that is, in many ways, antithetical to the philosophical roots of Yoga.

Eberhart Wedding: Northern Ohio (Rootstown/ Kent/ Akron/ Cleveland)

          Around the second week of October, I bid my Columbus friends farewell and went North towards Cuyahoga County. I spent a day in the national park, making revolutionary fungal discoveries every few steps. That evening, my boyfriend Skyler flew in from Denver. He’s also an avid mushroom hunter, so I took him into Cleveland the next day, to a public park that is a part of the Old Growth Forest network. True to its name, the park was a wonderland of Ohioan biodiversity, featuring centuries-old vegetation, rare fungus, and cold-blooded creatures. Can you spot the critter in this photo?

          The main reason for us being in North Ohio was that my good friend Olivia had asked me to be her bridesmaid. I spent a lot of time with Olivia and her then-boyfriend, Robbie, in college, and I always adored them together, so it was very exciting to be a part of their wedding. After marking off our finds in our field guide, Sky and I drove over to Kent to meet up with the other folks in the bridal party: Talon, Lexi, and Michaela. I was friends with all three of these people in college, yet I had seen none of them since before the onset of the pandemic, so it was wonderful to catch up over manicures. The rehearsal dinner went smoothly, and we concluded the night with a bonfire at Lexi’s house. Good dogs, great cheese, and excellent camaraderie made for the perfect precursor to the big day, and I even bonded with Lexi’s mom over puffballs, an edible fungus that often pop up in yards and lawns!

          The Eberhart-Rocco wedding was a beautiful, love-filled affair. The ceremony, held at Olivia’s childhood church, was traditional and very sweet. The reception was at the Akron Museum of Art, and guests were invited to peruse the galleries as they waited for the festivities to commence. The entire menu—down to the cupcakes—was vegan (and delectable, if I do say so myself). I teared up at several points throughout the night, but Robbie’s reaction to seeing Olivia coming down the aisle was easily my favorite moment, closely followed by Lexi’s maid of honor speech. I got to see Caleb again, as well as some other great folks I know from college. The DJ played some bangers!! Now, I’ll think of Olivia and Robbie whenever I hear “Blinding Lights” by the Weeknd.

          Marriages, mascots, music, mushrooms. Do you see why my time in the Midwest was magical? I must admit, I’ve never lauded Ohio with such a word, but aside from contracting norovirus, the first few weeks of my road trip were positively so. Which leads me to another story about norovirus—yes, someone else along my journey contracted the dreadful cleanse, but that is a story for another time. Check back next week for the next leg of my journey: the historical states!

9 Coolest Immersive Art Experiences

            I have been captivated by theater and the performing arts for as long as I can remember. Uniquely from other art forms, performance exists exclusively in its moment of conception. Performance carries urgency; it requires active audience participation. For these reasons, the performing arts can respond to current events in our communities and engage in topical conversations in ways that paintings and photographs cannot.

            In recent years, though, a new genre has emerged that straddles the line between theater and fine art. These installations, dubbed “immersive art experiences,” combine the immediacy of performance with elements of sculpture, narrative, and audio-visual art forms. They’ve already popped up in just about every major U.S. city!

            I’ve made it my quest to visit these immersive exhibits wherever I can find them. These are NINE of my absolute favorites across the United States.

Arcadia Earth- Manhattan, New York

            Perhaps the best example of timely art with a political statement, Arcadia Earth is constructed entirely from recycled materials—mainly, man-made debris that was discarded in the ocean. This exhibit, located just outside Washington Park in New York City, takes viewers on a journey through imaginative forests and underwater realms, inviting us to consider the damaging impacts that humans have on the natural world. The combination of augmented reality technology, shocking statistics, and thousands of plastic grocery bags incites a powerful call to action. The experience concludes in a room plastered with campaign posters by environmental activists; attendees are encouraged to sign their names on the wall as a means of joining the fight against climate change. Get tickets to this thought-provoking adventure here.

House of Eternal Return- Santa Fe, New Mexico

            The first of MEOW WOLF’s three permanent installations tells the story of an experimental scientist who mistakenly deports himself and his family into the multiverse. They leave behind their home and several unstable portals which can be freely traveled by attendees. Meow Wolf’s attention to detail is unmatched, and the (mostly) realistic house is chock full of narrative allusions, such as pages upon pages of the scientist’s copious notes documenting portal phenomena. Step through the bookcase or inside the refrigerator, however, and you’re instantly transported to the destination of your choice, from snowy wastelands to decrepit beach towns. All 70 rooms in the House of Eternal Return were created by local artists, but kiosks throughout the exhibit unravel an underlying storyline: the dark origin of the multiverse. I visited this exhibit alone and spent five hours exploring the 20,000 square feet—do yourself a favor and snag an early slot here.

Natura Obscura- Englewood, Colorado

            Set in a magical forest shrouded in secrecy, this exhibit sure lived up to its name. Animal spirits peered out of frosted mirrors; trees and flowers twinkled in gentle shades of white and pink. Tickets to these wintry woods included the use of UV flashlights, which revealed secret messages throughout the installation. This experience also had a corresponding mobile app which allowed attendees to scan glowing symbols in the forest, revealing the mystical origins of its spirits. Sadly, Natura Obscura closed in December 2019, but its creators, Prismajic, are onto bigger and better installations! 

Sleep No More- Manhattan, New York

            My colleague, Olivia, and I attended this film noir retelling of Shakespeare’s Macbeth during our spring break in 2017. We were welcomed into the lobby of the Mckittrick Hotel in Chelsea, New York with cocktails and expressionless white masks, with instructions to remain masked for the entirety of the experience. We made a quick decision to split up and entered the performance space separately. I highly recommend this approach for future attendees.

            Through haunting choreography timed to ethereal soundscapes, the characters enacted their respective storylines throughout the hotel. They crossed paths with one another in raunchy culminations of love and violence, occasionally shepherding the masked attendees together for climactic events such as Macbeth’s feast. I was often distracted from one performer by the dramatic intrusion of another, and at times, I stepped away to explore the empty rooms, which were each filled with carefully crafted props. This 360˚ attention to detail is precisely why I love Sleep No More—between the concurrent narratives and the interactive set, Olivia and I saw two entirely different performances! It was a decadent, riveting theatrical experience that fortunately, survived COVID-19. Sleep No More returns to the Mckittrick Hotel in February 2022. Try to grab the earliest time slot so you catch the whole story 😉 Book tickets here.

Omega Mart- Las Vegas, Nevada

            Like Meow Wolf’s first permanent installation, this psychedelic grocery store starts off innocently enough…until you start to look closely at the products lining its shelves. Cream of Mushroom Sop, Infinity Watermelons, Tattoo Chickens, and MILLLLLLLK are just a few of the not-quite-lifelike items available for sale inside Omega Mart. If you dare, step inside the soda cooler or crawl through the tent display—with portals to the multiverse abound, you can even find a route via the lockers in the employee break room! I adore that the Meow Wolf experience is never a linear one; each room has three dynamic exits and countless unexpected pathways leading you back through each one. I continued to stumble upon the headquarters of the mysterious Dram Corp, where each of the dozen computers were loaded with unique case files and video recordings. Similar devices throughout the exhibit implicate Dram Corp in agendas to obscure truths about missing children and leaks of dangerous contaminants.

            At twice the size of its predecessor, Omega Mart offers a grander, flashier presentation. It relies more heavily on projection mapping technology and other multi-media art forms than HOER. It also incorporates more elements of performance, such as the grocery store employees who converse “helpfully” with attendees and seem to turn off when certain portals are activated. These changes are especially fitting given that the new exhibit is in downtown Las Vegas, in an art collective a few blocks away from the Strip. People flock to Vegas for the spectacle, and with impressive artist collaborations like Alex & Allyson Grey, Omega Mart does not disappoint. Give yourself plenty of time to interact with each arresting design—book early tickets here.

Otherworld- Columbus, Ohio

            The concept of alternate realm tourism is not exclusive to Meow Wolf’s vision. This experience invites attendees into a restricted laboratory, where the gateway to other worlds lies open and unattended. Venture beyond and you’ll discover bioluminescent plants, alien creatures, and vast dreamscapes of light and sound. Otherworld offers attendees several mazes and puzzles to solve throughout the exhibit, and even occasionally serves as a performance venue for experimental musicians. This extraterrestrial mission is located about twenty minutes outside of Columbus, Ohio. Grab tickets here.

ARTECHOUSE NYC- Manhattan, New York

            ARTECHOUSE is a digital art production that has brought permanent installations to Washington D.C. and Miami Beach as well as the famous Chelsea Market in New York City. These installations play host to rotating exhibits for up to six months at a time, each one a pioneering fusion of art, science, and technology. When I visited ARTECHOUSE in Spring 2020 (just two days before the national travel advisory was issued), I saw Intangible Forms by Japanese artist Shohei Fujimoto. The main attraction was a stunning laser display that stretched from floor to ceiling in a three-story warehouse space. Brilliant red beams danced effortlessly in time to the unearthly music, creating perfect grids and fluid images. Multi-media projects in other rooms used similar patterns and projections of light to mimic the lasers’ operatic movement. Though Intangible Forms is no longer, ARTECHOUSE NYC continues to lead the quest for innovative audio-visual art forms with a brand-new exhibit called Geometric Properties. Check out availability here.

Shiki Dreams- Denver, Colorado

            From the creators of Natura Obscura comes another whimsical wander through the woods. Shiki Dreams exists in the same universe as its precursor but follows the story of a gentle Yeti named Shiki. His home is a winter wonderland teeming with enchanted trees, lore-filled relics, and snowy owls in flight. This experience, too, is enhanced with an augmented reality mobile app which encourages attendees to engage with their environment and unravel the secrets hidden among the trees. Named as one of the top 5 immersive art experiences in America, Prismajic’s current endeavor will run until the end of October. Don’t miss this charming adventure- get your tickets here.

Convergence Station- Denver, Colorado

            Easily my most anticipated experience of the year! Meow Wolf impresses yet again with an immersive psychedelia guised as an interdimensional train station. Visually stunning and intelligently mapped, Convergence Station seamlessly blends compelling narrative with diverse installations by local artists to guide attendees on a multi-sensorial tour of the realms. This experience takes elements of reality and runs with it, propelled by plotlines of lost memory and alien technology. Exhibit employees serve as diegetic characters (each with a unique backstory) that can answer attendees’ questions about the world. Elaborate props in each room spell out the history of the multiverse. My favorite? A thick, metal-bound storybook that offers clues on how to contact the Gods of the cosmos.

            Building upon the sculptural labyrinth of House of Eternal Return and leaning less on spectacle than Omega Mart, Meow Wolf’s third permanent installation is the largest in size and infinitely more creative. Even the building inspires curiosity, being nestled between the footprints of I-25 and I-70 in Denver, Colorado. It also houses a small music venue that boasts groundbreaking, interactive projection tech. The venue, “The Perplexiplex,” has already hosted international artists with the likes of GRiZ and Clozee—all within just one month of its public opening! Convergence Station is my favorite immersive art experience yet, so much so that I now consider it a Denver destination. If you find yourself in the area, you simply must arrange for tickets to this mind-bending voyage here.

The Primal Appeal of Music Festivals

            At the beginning of the COVID-19 lockdown, my sister and I hosted stay-at-home music festivals for ourselves. We would get dressed up, play different DJs’ livestreams on each of the TVs in our house, and run up and down the stairs as though we were stage-hopping. We used to joke that we didn’t even miss the real thing—after all, we had clean bathrooms, unlimited snacks, and we got to pick the lineup ourselves!

            Of course, our quarantine shenanigans were merely a distraction from mourning in-person events. For both of us, live music had been a necessary refuge.  No matter what we were struggling with in our day-to-day lives, we could lose ourselves in the sweaty crowds and loud music at the end of the week. I never thought I would say this, but at the height of COVID, I even missed getting caught in mosh-pits.

            Rest in peace, festival season 2020. I had high hopes for you.

            Music festivals did make a comeback this year, however, and I had the enormous pleasure of attending two: Dancefestopia in LaCygne, Kansas and Lost Lands in Thornville, Ohio. I used to have my festival routine down to a science, but after taking a year off, I felt a bit unprepared. I got to thinking about how camping festivals, especially, are a huge pain! You have to haul your gear in, brave the elements, and walk miles across the grounds to get where you need to go. Food and ice are expensive; the crowds are daunting; three days of partying is nothing short of exhausting. And God forbid you’re trying to organize a big group—I traveled solo to both festivals and that was hard enough. I said to myself, these things must be pretty damn fun if we tolerate all of the headaches.

            I’ve determined that, for most people, music festivals are so much more than a source of escapist entertainment. They are liminal spaces, conduits of social and spiritual transformation, opportunities for us to return to our most primal impulses. For one or two weekends a year, we can set aside ordinary rules, judgments, and expectations. We can come together as a community and simply dance.

            Here are some of the reasons that I suck it up and pay $15 for a grilled cheese once a year:

          1) When we gather in front of the mainstage, we move in sync to the rhythmic bass and flashing lights, subconsciously evoking age-old traditions of dancing around a fire. We’ve been dancing together ceremonially since the dawn of mankind; this simple ritual unites us across cultures, generations, and belief systems. Each member of the crowd comes from a different walk of life, but when we bop our heads in unison, I am reassured of our cosmic connectedness.

          2) In addition to the lineup of musical acts, most festivals offer a wealth of performance art, fine art installations, art vendors, and creative workshops to partake in. Personally, I thrive in communities that emphasize artistic experience. Moreover, I love when art is treated as a universal gift, intrinsic to every human’s nature, as opposed to a rare skill that must be honed for capital gain. In the “real” world,” I often feel pressured to turn my art into commercial success, but festivals allow me to enjoy art for art’s sake.

          3) Sleeping under the stars is therapeutic. I go camping often, but for many people, music festivals are the only times they lay directly on the earth. I believe we could all benefit from spending a few days outdoors and surrendering to the spontaneity of nature. At the very least, you’ll learn to never take air conditioning for granted.

          4) The suspension of normalcy inside the festival encourages adult attendees to adopt a childlike sense of play. We all wear our most brightly colored outfits, abandon our inhibitions, and bond over silly things like rubber ducks and slinkies. It’s the one weekend a year where I could carry around a teddy bear and only get questions like “what’s his name?!” We deserve a few days to feed our imaginations, to be (responsibly!) carefree and innocent again.

          5) Most importantly, festivals provide a space of community and unconditional compassion, shared even between complete strangers. Everyone is always in such a great mood! Every time I have attended a fest, alone or with a group, I have always been met with generosity, hospitality, and genuine care. The music motivates us to look out for one another, and the festival grounds become a sanctuary from our everyday struggles.

          I am constantly working to undo the social conditioning that tells me I am closed off from my fellow humans, that I am restricted in my self-expression, that I am not an organic being. In the festival community, this work has been done for me. I am free to be my creative, playful, true self. I can stand barefoot on the ground and dig my toes into the dirt. I am one with others just by being there and being present. 

            On a fundamental level, the desire to dance with loved ones under an open sky is one that we can all relate to. This primitive urge allows me to connect deeply with individuals who I would ordinarily never even cross paths with. So, even though music festivals are certainly a hassle and a half, they’re worth every minute.

Non-Bacchanalian Things to Do in Vegas

         Does anyone else get the urge to escape?

         It’s not necessarily an impulse to vacation, per se. It’s more like an overwhelming boredom with your current location; a NEED to be invigorated by a change of scenery.

         I used to get this feeling ALL the time pre-COVID. And I, being the impulsive person that I am, would draft a hasty letter to my boss at the patent office.

hey Sara, I will be out of town this week. Hope you don’t need me ;-p

-Kaya 

         I’d pack up my car and simply leave. I hardly spent a weekend on my campus in Southeast Ohio during my senior year of college. I was too busy exploring the surrounding states while I could! It’s much harder to escape now that I have a job that relies on my being there in person, and now that I live in Colorado. There is plenty to see here, but it’s at least a two-hour drive in any direction to cross the border. And because of all that, I find myself getting antsy.

         A few weeks ago, my three-day weekend coincided with that Frontier “80% off all flights” email. I couldn’t resist. I hopped a plane to Las Vegas.

         I spent a lot of my childhood in Vegas with my grandparents, so I must admit that the flashy splendor of the Strip has long since wore off for me. I even did the whole night club- gambling excursion on my 21st and I was just not impressed. Admittedly, my idea of travel usually means engaging with the local culture and spending as little money as possible, and trips to Las Vegas are the exact opposite. The downtown area offers spectacular imitations of every other place in the world: Paris, New York City, Rome, Giza, Venice; all the while offering nothing unique of its own. Each casino is designed to dazzle you with a luxurious façade, then trap you inside a sleazy, expensive escape from reality.  

         All that said, Vegas has its gems, just like any other city. I had a very pleasant, peaceful trip this last time, so I decided to compile a list of things to do in Vegas that do not involve all-out Bacchanalian chaos.

Plants!

          My favorite thing to do on the Las Vegas Strip is free and completely open to the public 24/7. Tucked inside the Bellagio is a conservatory with live plant sculptures that change seasonally. I have visited the conservatory three times in the past eight months, so I have seen three different exhibits; the current exhibit for summer 2021 features a bamboo loft, a sparkling phoenix, and a stunning Daniel Popper statue. I first saw Popper’s work in Tulum, Mexico in 2020 and was positively thrilled to recognize another statue of his. 

Performance Arts!

          Besides the famous “exotic topless dancers,” there’s quite a diverse entertainment scene in Vegas. Over the years, I’ve seen everything from touring Broadway musicals to intimate comedy shows. By far, my  has been Zumanity, the Cirque Du Soleil performance hosted at the New York New York Hotel & Casino. I felt it really represented the spirit of Sin City: an impressive, erotic distraction with a few cheap thrills. If you don’t know me—I did my undergrad in playwriting and dramaturgy. So yeah, this theater history nerd was squealing at Zumanity’s nod to World War II era cabarets.

Eat!

          Okay, this one is a little more indulgent, but I’m not talking about the multi-cuisine buffets. Many world-class chefs have restaurants in Vegas, and their portion sizes won’t have you poolside in a food coma. I recently discovered Mon Ami Gabi, a French restaurant inside the Paris (big surprise!) Hotel & Casino on the Strip. We waited just thirty minutes and paid surprisingly reasonable prices to sit on the patio with a perfect view of the Bellagio dancing fountains. They happily accommodated my vegetarian diet by replacing the shrimp in my pasta dish with a bright vegetable medley. Best of all, we had a prime spot for people watching as the sun went down.

Play!

          An art collective by the name of AREA15 recently popped up downtown, one mile west of the Strip. This 200,000 square foot warehouse is home to several interactive art exhibits such as 4D movie theaters, mirror mazes, and flight simulators. The most notable of these exhibits is Meow Wolf’s Omega Mart, a truly trippy adventure through a very strange labyrinth of a grocery store. See my article on Immersive Art for my full review of Omega Mart.

Hike!

          Las Vegas is set against a backdrop of bare mountains in a stunning array of colors, some reaching to elevations as high as 12,000 feet. If you’re not planning on being too hungover in the mornings, like me, you can hit the trails! It’s best to hike early in the morning or later in the afternoon, as the sun is unforgiving and desert vegetation offer little to no shade cover. I personally love to explore Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, located just 20 minutes west of downtown. Day passes are just $15/ vehicle and you can even hike to some Native American petroglyphs.