SF-Berkeley-Budapest: A slight haze this morning.

The last two weeks have been simply fantastic. C visited and we took a rather spectacular roadtrip, given the time and budget constraints we had -- I've written a bit about that. But only a tiny bit, because I didn't want to take time away from that trip for writing while it was still going on. But now, sadly, it's over and so I do have a few moments to think.

So, what did we do? Half of me really wants to tell a detailed version of the story - complete with when our tent from the sixties and our camping stove from the forties nearly drove us out of our minds, when we took a wrong turn from the middle of nowhere into even worse middle of nowhere, and the times when I thought there was nothing more beautiful and terrible than the desert. But I don't think today's the day for that story. But I'll tell you a bit. We left Santa Cruz and headed South at first - wound our way during the first day to Death Valley National Park, as pictured in the last post of mine. There, we camped for two nights and one full day and after that, drove through Las Vegas (which couldn't have been more different than the park we had just left) to Page, AZ -- a town in the middle of nowhere, except that it is actually in the middle (that is to say, about two hours from) half a dozen beautiful national parks and monuments. We spent one day recuperating from Death Valley and exploring a few hikes around Page and then the next day we took a day trip to the Grand Canyon. Then we spent one more night in Page before making the long trek to Santa Fe, NM, which is now a city very dear to my heart. We spent two days there hiking, learning history (Santa Fe has been around since 1610! Take that, Virginia), and exploring more art than I've seen in a long time, and getting to know some friends of my mother.

Then, there was the real drive home - 1100 miles in two days. Then a few days of recovery and fun in Santa Cruz (including a hike where we got lost like nobody's business, which is ridiculous, because the place we were hiking is all but five miles from my grandfather's house in Santa Cruz, and we navigated national parks with no problem!), and then this morning, the 4:30-a.m. drive to the airport.

And I've just made the discovery that going to a personal workout class (the first one, I might add - I made a great impression, I'm sure) on four hours of sleep is akin to going to one while hungover. So, I am consequently back in bed to catch up on some of that sleep that I missed.

What a fantastic trip, though.

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