Marie Javins's Blog, page 57

Women's History Month

I went on a Women's History Month tour of The Ebell of Los Angeles today.

The Ebell of LA is a women's club founded in 1894, with the current headquarters built in 1927. It's still active, but its primary purpose is somewhat obsolete now. Women would gather to read and learn and make art, all things that were somewhat inaccessible to women in the past. Well, maybe it's still inaccessible, because we work all the time.

The club stays open by hosting events (such as weddings) and renting its space out to Hollywood productions.

Weekend of Whales

In January, 2017, I went whale-watching near the Channel Islands, off the coast of Ventura. I'd read this part of the Pacific is on the migration route for gray whales, who head south for the winter.

Sure enough, I saw several whales that day, along with dolphins and sea lions. But I'd also read about where those whales were headed—to lagoons off Baja California, where they birth and nurse their calves, as well as mate for the next go-round.

I didn't give much thought to whale migration again until I realized whale season was upon us here in 2019, and I hadn't acted to get myself south to Mexico to see the whales. Was it too late?

I researched every term I could think of. Solo travel to Baja. Independent travel to see Baja whales. Gray whales, Baja. Budget travel, whales. I searched guidebooks and websites, but didn't find anything truly satisfying until I really dug in. Central and southern Baja wasn't far away as the crow flies, but it was too damn long from LA by bus. Fifteen hours by car, longer by bus. Nope. Not gonna do that and be at the office by 9 on Monday.
I fired up Google Flights, Skyscanner, Kayak...what if I flew out of Tijuana? Burbank? LAX? Ontario? Long Beach? What if I flew into Cabo and connected? Flew via San Diego? I tried every combination I could think of.

In the end, two routes made sense. The one that appealed to me most was to get the $20 Flixbus from Burbank train station at the crack of dawn, head to San Diego, go to the Cross Border Express walkway that goes from San Diego directly into Tijuana Airport, and catch a budget Volaris flight to Loreto. But there was a direct flight from LAX-Loreto on Alaska Air, and I couldn't be sure a bus would make it through LA traffic down to San Diego in time to clear customs and get my flight in Tijuana. The direct flight was more expensive, but I shrugged—that's what paychecks are for—and booked the Alaska Air ticket.

I was too late to get any of the hotels recommended on TripAdvisor or Yelp, or to get the best budget lodging. There were some hotels outside the centro, but then I spotted a new hotel—open all of three weeks—Hotel Rosarito. It wasn't even on TripAdvisor at this point, just on the hotel booking sites, but this meant rooms were actually available.

Now I had a ticket and a hotel room, and my friend Amanda had told me she coincidentally was going to be in Loreto the same weekend. But what about the whales?

From Loreto, it was an hour-and-a-half on an winding paved road to the whale lagoon at Puerto Adolfo López Mateos. This is a small town, and I couldn't find anything about a bus that might go there. There were buses from Loreto to nearby Ciudad Insurgentes, but once there, it seemed to me you'd just get stuck.
I concluded I could either rent a car in Loreto or I could sign up for a day trip with a tour operator. The former would be fast and easy. There is a pier in Adolfo López Mateos with staffed counters. You waltz up and say "I want to see the whales," and they outfit you with a life vest and stick you on a boat for an hour or two, depending on what you want to pay. It's dead-easy, but I didn't know that back in LA, so I wrote to a bunch of outfitters and travel agents to find someone who could help me out.

Only one of them wrote back with any confidence, so I booked with her. Lezly put me onto a Wild Loreto expedition. Both were great. Lezly showed up at my hotel for two days running, and even gave me her coat the first day.

Here are some photos of last weekend.

Baja Weekend

Look what I did over the weekend.

Well, okay, I didn't DO this. But I went and saw this.

Cash, Parton, Cheech, Chong

Now is a good time to stop by the Grammy Museum.

En Route to DTLA

I was en route to the travel show* at the LA Convention Center, entering the Hollywood/Vine metro station, which is actually at Hollywood and Argyle.

There was a guy inside the platform’s glass-sided elevator.

The elevator was not going up. It was not going down. It was merely existing without bias—the guy did not seem alarmed, nor was he trying to exit the elevator. The doors were snugly shut, as if the elevator was at rest. Which I guess it was. The guy and the elevator were just hanging out.

I averted my eyes and walked to the other end of the platform. I kinda wanted to see where this story went, but self-preservation won out.


*At the travel show, I interrogated some Baja reps about the bridge from San Diego to Tijuana Airport, the CBX. From Burbank, it is possible to take the 4:50 a.m. Flixbus to Old Town, San Diego, hope on a trolley to the San Ysidro border, get on a $6 shuttle to CBX, then walk into the airport through passport control, and take a Calafia or Volaris flight south into Baja. 

But My Haircutter Moved to San Francisco

Going to SF for the day seems decadent, but you know what’s more decadent? Paying for a hotel.

Rainy Season in SoCal

There are occasional days I regret my choice to not own a car.

Responsible Citizenry

I went to my first Burbank homeowner's association meeting.

I pitched purchasing a panda to maintain the bamboo in the courtyard, and while I didn't get a panda, now I'm on the board. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

R&R

Today I went to the first of four workshops intended to teach techniques for relieving or mitigating stress.

It was raining when I left the house, and I was worried about when the bus would come and then I didn't know what to expect and it was still raining when I left and I had to rush to catch the bus and...am I doing this right?

Pottery by Hand

Here's how my first hand-building projects came together. A pinchpot and a coil pot.

Admittedly, they're not gonna set the world on fire anytime soon, but I'm learning.

I might take the same beginning class over again in the spring.