Got My Kicks On Route 66


People are always taken aback when they find out how little I’ve traveled in the US. I’ve visited hundreds of cities, villages, and islands all over the world, but have never been to New York or Chicago…never partied in Miami…never even seen the Grand Canyon.

Pathetic, really.

So when my friend Maria invited me to join her on a little stateside road trip last month, I jumped at the opportunity. She had business to do and that business was taking her to Phoenix, Arizona, and Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Have I ever had a desire to explore the cities of Phoenix or Albuquerque (has anyone)? Ummmm, no. But in true Traveling Thy spirit, I craved the adventure. I’d been in a horrible funk (worse than the FOMO I told you about earlier this summer), and I needed to get out of LA for a bit. I packed a bag, hopped into Maria’s Mini Cooper and hit the open road with an open mind.

Fourteen days and about 1,700 miles in total, it was a trip to remember.

Not surprisingly, the adventure for Maria and me lied not in our actual destinations (duh), but in between and beyond.

Route 66 was especially charming. It’s a historic route, so you won’t find it on any modern map, but its spirit is very much alive. Running from Chicago to LA and known as “The Main Street of America,” Route 66 is symbolic of good old-fashioned American opportunity and exploration.

Maria and I got a little taste of its history and cultural symbolism with the neon-lit motels and the diners serving chicken fried steaks. And always charmed to fill up the car at little rinky dink gas stations like the one pictured here.

We once stopped the car in the middle of a dead, dusty intersection to marvel at a tumbleweed as it slowly passed us by.

Easily amused? Why yes, yes we are.

Driving at nighttime was a thrill too. I was tickled to bits by one simple pleasure: the desert lightning storm. It’s just us two girls, darkness and shadowy figures all around, with only the Mini Cooper’s headlights guiding our way on the open road ahead…and then…magnificent flashes of light in the distance. Anticipation of them had my forehead practically glued to the windshield, and every single lightning strike had me giddy and in awe. I love that shit.

One of the highlights of our trip was walking the trails of Arizona’s Petrified Forest National Park (for the record, that forest would be of the fossilized variety, not the frightened variety. Teehehe, *snort*). Located about 15 miles east of Holbrook, it’s the only national park in the country through which the historic Route 66 runs.

Despite the temperatures reaching about a thousand degrees (ok, more like 100°), Maria and I enjoyed taking in this vast open space of historical and geological significance. We saw petroglyphs that dated back thousands of years, fossilized tree logs that formed quartz crystals, and impressive rock formations of various, vibrant colors.

My favorite was the Blue Mesa Trail with its layers of blueish purplish bentonite clay and petrified wood. Pretty, right?

At the northern end of the park, we reached the Painted Desert. It’s about 7,500 square miles of stunning red badlands, and it really does look like a painting. it’s not until you scan the gorgeous panoramic view from side to side and see multiple flashes of lightning every couple miles that you’re reminded it’s real. And not to mention, pretty badass.


Oh, did I mention we slept in a wigwam? Yeah, we slept in a wigwam, y’all. (You know me, I Love Sleeping In Weird Places.)




Wigwam Motel: 811 West Hopi Drive, Holbrook, AZ 86025

My first night in the wigwam, I dreamt that a pygmy tyrannosaurus rex (way cute!) and his buddy the super croc were wandering the outer edge of a residential neighborhood. They were lost, and the T-Rex was crying a little bit. It was petrified (teehehe, *snort*). My dad was there. He was trying to console it. I, on the other hand, was amazed that there was a PYGMY T-REX in my presence and was snapping photos of it and telling my dad to pose with it. What is wrong with me?! Ha.

I digress. The road trip continued, and Maria and I did veer off historic Route 66 a couple times.

We visited Sedona (about 115 miles north of phoenix), a beauuuutiful region that reminds me of the Australian outback. The landscape is made up of stunning red sandstone formations that change colors and tones as the sun rises and sets. Quite similar to what makes Australia’s Uluru (Ayers Rock) such an attraction. Even swimming in Sedona’s Buddha Beach (pictured below) reminded me of swimming in the garden of Eden in the Kings Canyon of Australia.


Maria walking the red rock crossing


Me swimming in Buddha Beach

And the similarities don’t end there. While a visit to the Australian outback reveals aboriginal myths and superstitious phenomena, Sedona has some magical qualities of its own. The area is known for its spiritual vortexes (yes, grammatically, the proper term is vortices, but this is what the locals call them). These hot spots of healing energy are believed to have the power to align spiritual properties, balance your chakra, enhance your psyche; some even think of vortexes as portals to other dimensions. You know, like, rabbit holes to Alice’s wonderland.

I’m not really into that new age-y stuff but Maria did convince me to spend some time with a spiritual advisor while we were in Sedona. I was a bit of an emotional wreck at the time (still am to some degree), and my session was filled with tears and intense self-realizations. Well, maybe not realizations, but deeper analyses of things I already knew about myself but had been too scared or ashamed to explore. It was like the mother of all therapy sessions, complete with breathing exercises, crystals and spirit cards to boot.

While I’m generally self aware on a logical, and even emotional level, I am completely out of touch with my spiritual self. In my travels, I’ve been moved by spiritual moments but have never before faced my own spirituality so directly and deliberately.

It was eye-opening and cathartic, and now has me more curious about my spiritual self. I’d love to explore some more. For info on my spiritual advisor, Amalia, click here.

When we left town, the spirit of Sedona stayed with us, and Maria and I would encounter even more bewitching goodness. About 350 miles east on Route 66 – in Albuquerque – we crashed an actual Witches Convention at our hotel (for real)! These witches are not joking.

We also confirmed our suspicions that Albuquerque definitely sucks. Seriously, it’s terrible.

But Maria and I also discovered there is decent food to be had and lovely people to befriend. We stuffed our faces silly with amazing barbeque ribs and chicken and sweet potato mash at The Cube. And the highlight of our time in the city was dining at P’tit Louis Bistro. I was skeptical of finding decent food in the ABQ, but I was so pleased to find this charming lil French spot. It was late in the day, and the place was cleared out and ready to close for the afternoon, but the staff there was happy to have us. After a couple carafes of rosé, and nibbling on prosciutto melon salad and steak tartare and rabbit liver pate and beef short rib, we became one big happy family. The owner Christophe indulged us in delightful conversation, Emily brought us a plate of foie gras (and you know how much I love foie gras) – on the house, no less! – and our fab server Alex became our new best friend. He even turned the restaurant into a small ballroom, teaching Maria how to waltz.

It’s moments like this that I adore… enjoying an amazing meal, being in fine company, having fascinating conversations and learning new things over a glass (or three) of wine.

Even better: traveling with someone as awesome as my friend Maria. She and I couldn’t possibly be any more different – complete polar opposites on just about everything under the sun. But we somehow made perfect travel companions.

Maria and I didn’t get into a single disagreement. There was not a moment of tension or frustration or annoyance. We got along royally. Easy breezy. Not a lot of people can say that after spending two weeks on the road together.

(Truth be told, anyone who can endure my obnoxious singing of show tunes while trapped with me in a Mini Cooper deserves a medal.)

And when you travel with someone as spontaneous and unpredictable as Maria (for the record, she’s effing nuts and one of the most interesting people you’ll ever meet), you can always expect to get into some wild and crazy shenanigans.

I’m not sure exactly how this happened, but when we were in Phoenix – which sucks almost as bad as Albuquerque – we ended up crashing in the pool house of an amaaaazing fancy shmancy estate. This guy had a pool and spa that could rival any major hotel’s, a bar you could swim up to, a waterslide, an in-ground trampoline, an indoor movie theater, beautifully manicured gardens, a couple playgrounds for the kiddies, and cabanas equipped with massive TVs. Not too shabby. We must’ve spent six or seven hours in the pool alone. Could not get enough of that waterslide. I was stunned that this was somebody’s home.



Things that make me go “What the…?” or “Is this really happening?” are the norm when I’m with Maria. Even down to the last stretch of our road trip, the adventures just kept on comin’. On day 13, in the darkness of night and just four hours away from home, we made a split-second decision to swerve off westbound Route 66……and head north to VEGAS instead.

Not only did we end up in Vegas in the middle of the night with absolutely no plan, we ended up in this ridonkulous two-story suite at The Encore.

Seriously, I don’t know how this stuff happens. It’s the magic of Maria, I guess.

Anyway, it was a quickie. Just twelve whirlwind hours later, we girls were heading home to LA. I still didn’t get to see the Grand Canyon (doh!), but I’m pretty sure it’s not going anywhere.

This little road trip was perfect just the way it was. And I didn’t even tell you the juicy stories! Another time perhaps ;)

Here’s a map of our two-week journey:

Maria, thank you thank you and thank you.

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