The dust and heat of the dessert were heavy, oppressive as we sped south in the car. I was immobilized in the passenger seat and Remi, more highly functional in the hot weather, was pretty much solo-piloting our southward road trip. Passing the border in Tijuana, things didn’t cool off much as we headed south down Baja California. The relentless movement of it: what were we running from? Or running to?
Things are in season, fresh, local. The vendors themselves are almost as colorful as their veggies, young and old. People from all over the place live in the city, and the accents you’ll hear are, like in much of the city, diverse.
I wanted to put down my bags (at least for a little bit), stop bopping around and feel at home, to create a space for myself. I searched and searched: for months it felt like I would never find what I was looking for!
From the ground, it’s easy enough to miss it entirely at first, but eventually the skyscrapers will draw your gaze upwards, and you’ll inevitably notice the sprigs of greenery sprouting above you in the midst of the concrete jungle. This is Highline, a 3-mile long park that’s been strung up so cleverly from the heights of the city.
If you head south from Ticonderoga towards the middle of Lake George, just off the shore there are a string of islands that are part of a public state park. In many parts of the lake the water is deeper than you can see, but here it becomes shallow and you can swim between the islands in the sheltered water.