Emily and I went out on an overnight jaunt to get away from the soaring temperatures in Phoenix and the all-night setting off of explosives that have become an Independence Day ritual in our neighborhood. Why not Artsy-Fartsy Cowboy Land, Sedona, the New Age Mecca? It was cooler than the Valley of the Sun. We could go to some of our favorite restaurants, and poke around the streets that seem more like a theme park every year.
There were flags, but they seemed subtle in this town where surrealist Max Ernst once lived and the ghost of P.T. Barnum would feel at home.
The big night was quiet. Not a sparkler or firecracker.
What do artsy-farty cowboys do on the 4th?
We passed a place called the Vortex— not the Vortex, but a place that sold “activated” tonics, juices, smoothies, and coffees. I wondered how they activated them. I imagined a device out of Dr. Frankenstein’s lab. According to their website, “Adaptogenic herbs and superplants” are activated with a “Proprietary Hand crafted ultra high vibrational substance” that has “Rose Vibes, Shilajit, Love, Magic, and some other powerful ingredients.”
Like the Firesign Theater said, “there’s a seeker born every minute.”
After breakfast at the fabulous Coffee Pot, we cruised Oak Creek Canyon, checked out the Midgley Bridge stickers and graffiti (an interesting 21st century tradition), and stopped for iced tea at Indian Gardens. Nothing Adaptogenic, but great for the blood pressure.
Then we headed for Cottonwood. Em’s phone rang. We had left a bag of clothes at the hotel.
We groaned, but decided not to let it get to us, turned around with smiles on our faces. Turns out it wasn’t our bag—it contained swimsuits we had never seen before. The universe may have had a reason for us to go back. Maybe it was just a reminder not to take shit so seriously.
Finally, made it to Cottonwood, a genuine, hippie-dippy, artsy-fartsy cowboy town complete with an Iron Horse Hotel, a Hippie Emporium, antique stores, and much, much more. There was a meditation center next to a Mexican restaurant, but if you’ve got good Mexican food, meditation is redundant.
And there were murals!
It was a lovely drive back. Only a little bit of an end-of-the-holiday-weekend traffic jam.
We’ll return to Artsy-Fartsy Cowboy Land in the future, being seekers of a sort.
In Chicanonautica, over at La Bloga, I’ll do something about the darker, political implications of what we saw . . .
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