Pixie Delights in Ojai

image from ojaipixies.com

My favorite scent in the whole world is citrus.  I'm a rabid fan of orange blossoms, but I am also partial to the fresh sugar-citrus smell of Meyer lemon rinds, the green-grass fragrance of lemon leaves, the tart kiss of a satsuma. Blood oranges, lemonade, greyhound cocktails, lemon squares, lime-laden mojitos... I love 'em all. 

It follows, then, that one of my very most favorite places in the entire world is Ojai, just 45 minutes north of my house. Not only is it beautiful, but the valley is full of citrus trees.  Driving along Ojai Avenue, past the pin dot of the main drag, Libbey Park and the arcade, the streets become tiny thoroughfares, winding travelers through a fairy land of Pixie tangerine trees.  

The famous Ojai "pink moment"

I wanted to jump out of the car, run through the trees wildly, throw a picnic blanket on the rough ground and eat as many tangerines as I could pick with my bare hands, standing on tippy toes to reach as high up in the trees as possible.  And when I sated my citrus cravings - for the moment - I would lie on the blanket and fall asleep under the green canopy of glossy leaves, my chin and arms sticky with tangerine juice, my lap overflowing with discarded peels. 

They call Ojai "Shangri-La"... and I'm a believer.

For the record, we stayed at Ojai Valley Inn & Spa, which is a magical dream of luxury and quiet.  We ate rich Italian food at Boccali's - ask for Starlet when you go, she's a doll of a waitress.  And if you're lucky enough to find yourself with time on your hands, I'd recommend a reflective hike at Meditation Mount, on the far east side of the valley, preferably at sunset so that you can witness the majesty of the famous Ojai "pink moment." Then cap off the day with a kuyam treatment at Ojai Valley Spa.  Bliss. 

Austin-tatious

Austin is one of those cities that you can fall in love with the moment you set foot on its soil.  We arrived around 10 pm on a Friday night and the airport was all but closed up, quiet and thoughtful, with pretty painted guitars flanking its baggage carousels in a bright and large, open room (rather than a stuffy, fluorescent basement-style warren like at most airports).  The street in front of the airport was wide open, too - no taxis trying to run us down, no shuttle buses pumping smoke into the air.  It was just us, Raf and me and the kids with Raf's younger brother Sky, all basking in the full moonlight of the Austin sky as we moseyed toward the parking garage.  I almost belted out "Deep in the Heart of Texas," but I refrained.  The quiet night sky was enough for all of us.

Our hotel was on the banks of Lady Bird Lake, just a block from the main parts of Austin.  Sky stayed a block south in a hipper area of Austin, near super-cool boutiques and bars and food truck parking lots.  We went to a UT game (versus Oklahoma State), passing blocks of tailgating parties to get to the stadium, and were bowled over by the Southern hospitality; despite a strong sense of school pride and an overwhelming turnout, the stands were civil and the crowds were kind.  The pre-game show was unlike anything I'd ever seen: an enormous marching band played "Deep in the Heart of Texas" (thank you kindly) while forming a giant UT, then a special club (dedicated strictly to this simple chore) unfurled the largest Texas state flag in the world, turning it round and round on the field to wild cheers from the stands.  The opposing team was also given an opportunity to play its fight song, respectfully.  The Jumbotron at the top of the stadium played an inspiring "Go Texas" video and then a cannon fired.  An honest-to-goodness cannon, plunked there on the corner of the field, intended solely for starting the game and for celebrating each touchdown.  Amazing.

I had hoped the visit would inspire my girls as students, seeing what a big ol' university town was like, but we saw so much more.  What a fantastic chunk of America.

A chicken-and-waffle truck - Emme's dream come true.

We took pedicabs to the stadium.

Stopped at the UT store to buy burnt orange gear.

Because we played OSU - whose colors are bright orange and white, the stadium was awash in orange - couldn't really tell who was supporting which team... until the "hook 'em horns" hands came out!

Threadgill's in Austin.

Waking Up in the House of the Sun - Haleakala

Haleakala means "House of the Sun" in Hawaiian and it's the name of Maui's resident volcano and the mountain that surrounds it. When Kanoe suggested that we wake up and see the sunrise from Haleakala, I balked a little. Here's the thing: although it's on a tropical island, it's a tall, tall mountain and the temperature at the peak is much cooler than the temp at the shore.  If you go, you need to dress warmly and wake up early.  Really early.  3 am early. Therefore, not all of us went -- who wants to wear scarves and mittens on a beach holiday??  

For those of us who wanted a different kind of Maui experience, however, the lure of a magical sunrise was hard to pass up.  Armed with coffee and a map, blankets and beach towels, Kendra and took off at 3:27 am with four sleepy kids in the back. The drive is fairly long because there's no direct road from where we were staying in Kihei to Haleakala, so it took about an hour and 45 minutes to get up there.  The hairpin turns wind and twist up the mountain, and we we had to stop a few times because Emme was carsick.  Furthermore, it's hard to see what's around you because it's so dark. But the stars... in the deep black of the sky, the stars look like diamonds sprinkled on an inky canvas.  


By the time we finally parked, the faint glimmer of first light was starting to shimmer across the sky.  We found spots along the observation deck and waited behind other sleepy tourists, everyone with cameras held up to the light, waiting.


Something about the experience reminded me of yoga, especially the morning meditations that I do on retreat in Ojai, sitting cross-legged in front of a window that looks out over the Topa Topa Mountains, the red sunlight of the rising sun warming my face.  I had to get over the annoying feeling of people pushing to see past me, the loud clicks and whirrs of cameras behind and next to me, the cold of my fingers as I fumbled with my own touch screen camera.  Kanoe and I giggled about the crazy get-ups of the people around us, as well as my blanket cape and his Taliban-inspired burka.


But when I finally quieted myself down and just observed, I was struck by the movement of the clouds over the mountains.  Like the waves crashing over coral reefs ten-thousand feet down at sea level, the puffy clouds pushed themselves slowly up and over the rocky cliffs below us, changing form and disappearing and then tumbling back up again. It was spectacular and mesmerizing, something that my camera couldn't capture, either on video or in still pictures, though I took dozens of photos.

After awhile, the kids begged to get out of the cold. On the way to the car, so we stopped to snap a few more pictures.  Then, as we turned toward the parking lot, a cheer roared up from the crowds so we ran back to see what was the fuss.


The sun!  It rose, as it always has, over the horizon, over the house of the sun.  The burnished orange globe bobbed up, sizzling into the island sky, worthy of a gasp and a cheer. There it was, a reminder of newness and fresh starts and the infinite gifts of a new day. 


To say that it was worth the trouble - the suitcase real estate for jackets, the long drive up and back, the sleep deprivation, the carsickness - is an understatement. Sol invictus, the invincible sun. It shouldn't have taken a trip to Maui to see something that is there for me every day, every morning of my life.  But I'm thrilled that it did.  Now that I've been to the house of the sun, I am recharged, glowing with radiance.  


All hail Haleakala.

Bikini Beach

Nothing says summer like girls in bikinis on a beach, even though I had to get over my own thoughts to consent to buying this very special souvenir for them.  I wrote about it for my friend Christine's online mag, because writing helps me to organize my thoughts (as you know).  

Welcome to bikini beach, girlies.

Mama's Fish House

When we were planning this trip, Raf and I saw an old Rachel Ray food/travel show and she was at Mama’s Fish House in Maui.  I read more about it and the Yelp reviews were out of this world.  Even though it’s expensive, they said, it’s worth the price for the view.  Go at sunset, get the macadamia-crusted lobster dish.

With a party of 10, it’s hard to get a good table so we made reservations.  They couldn’t fit us in at 8, so we nabbed a 6:45 rezo… and it made all the difference.  The sun sets in Maui at 7:30, so we got phenomenal photos of the kids by the water, climbing trees and racing to the water.  The restaurant itself was like the Tiki Room at Disneyland, filled with Polynesian memorabilia, but without guile or irony.  And that view…

To be honest, it took a long time to be served and the kids were restless once our food arrived, but it was one of those places that feels magical just to be in it.  And besides, there is nothing like eating your food steps from the beach, bathed in the summery sunset glow of Maui.

Ten Years Zipped Right By...

At times, Serena has – by far – been the most nervous and anxious of our kids.  Worried about world wars, the deaths of loved ones, stopped elevators, car crashes on the side of the freeway, helicopters buzzing overhead… In the past, I’ve wondered how she’ll survive in the “real world” if she has so many hesitations.

And yet, her greatest wish for her 10^th birthday was to go ziplining.  Even as I typed up the registration online and keyed in my credit card number, I asked her, “You’re sure about this? It’s a long way to go… are you sure this is what you wanna do?”  She assured me she did, so I shrugged my shoulders and took a leap of faith…

It took about an hour from check-in to the mountain, and then another half hour or so up to the 1^st zip.  We were in a group with three newlywed couples, a couple that had been married for 35 years and a young college girl who was celebrating her 21^st birthday.  All harnessed in and helmeted, I asked Serena again.  “You sure?”  This time, she only nodded, eyes on the mountain. 

When we were next in line, I said, “You want me to go first?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll go.”  And then they strapped her in and off she zipped, like she’d been doing it for years, and her landing was so graceful the guides nicknamed her “Tinkerbelle.” 

We did 8 zips in all, each a little longer or more interesting than the one before, each one leaping over a lush valley of guava trees, wild boars, mongoose (mongeese?) and birds, everything tucked into the red dirt of Maui. 

  

Serena was brave and happy and excited and fun to watch.  After all was said and done, I wondered if maybe her anxieties about the fearful things in the world were simply those things beyond her control – fears like the ones that we all have, even as grown-ups – but somehow, up in the air above the valley floor of that Maui canyon, she found a peacefulness and a control of her own.

The Happiest Happy Hour

BEFORE: happy, carefree tourists with 
coconutty goodness in each sip.

AFTER: (15 minutes later)
Weekend at Bernie's