La Bloga: Chicanonautica: Various Intersecting Borderlands

Around 8:30 PM, after dark, we checked into a Super 8 in Yakima. There was no elevator, and not enough wall plugs in the room. The building was a crumbling relic from before the computer revolution. And one of the beds sagged, and there weren’t enough towels . . .

I read a chunk of Cosmic Voyage by Courtney Brown, Phd., in which the author tells of how, he was able to visit Mars and the homeworld of the Greys via a remote viewing technique based on transcendental meditation and hypnosis that was developed by the “U.S. Military Psychic Warfare Program.” It all was right out of old sci-fi TV shows that he admitted watching. Maybe I'd've been impressed if he found himself in a dilapidated motel on the other side of the galaxy.

It was cold the next morning. Toto, I’m pretty sure we aren’t in Arizona anymore. We put on jackets and discovered that this Super 8 didn’t have didn’t decaf, being stuck in a time warp as it was.

I was wondering about the local cannabis culture as we searched for somewhere to get breakfast when I spotted a huge THC sign. This part of Washington was subtle about such things. We weren’t in California or Oregon anymore, either.

Finally, we found a Panera—it had decaf—and the employees all wore corporate Día de los Muertos T-shirts.

Later I saw some Spanish words painted in a non-graffiti style in the side of a barn. Greater Aztlán is encroaching on Sasquachlandia. Was it causing a political crisis? It was hard to tell.

Washington was different from Oregon. More low key, and less arty, with some notable exceptions. I could tell we were closer to Canada than Mexico.

Then we swung back into Oregon, as the roads and borders zigzagged and intersected. There were lots of Mexican restaurants, signs of immigration in the small towns. And wait—were those pro-Biden signs? Or was something in the air causing me to hallucinate?

Were those evergreens turning a blazing yellow? What’s going on? A mutation brought on by climate change? Or just the local natural order of things made weird by my alien, cyborg eyes . . .

Elgin had a lot of funky decor to photograph :

A cute scarecrow behind barbed wire,

an opera house presenting Camelot,

a thrift shop guarded by an inflatable demon that also sold LET’S GO BRANDON and TRUMP 2024 caps,

vehicles, both festooned for the Halloween, and abandoned,

even one left over from the Civil War, the old one, back in the Nineteenth Century, about slaves . . .

Lostine had a spooky stuffed child on a tricycle,

a wacko joint called the Blue Banana,

and a smiling yellow tank–I can only speculate about what gas or liquid it contained.

We were hungry when we arrived in Enterprise, but most of their restaurants were closed. Maybe it being Sunday had something to do with it. These small towns and their quaint, old fashioned customs . . .

As if by the intervention of a deity, we found a Mexican restaurant called La Laguna. And it was open. It was also busy, but that could have been because it seemed to be the only place that was open.

Inside there was a lot of wonderful Mexican decor. No doubt a collection gathered with love. The owner, a Chicana who was seating customers and taking orders, said she founded it twenty years ago.

And the food! I know I rarely ever find any Mexicanoid food that I don’t like, but this one qualifies as excellente. Pretty pinche close to home cooking, cabrones!

Then, later--another La Laguna Mexican Restaurant. Could it be a chain? According to their website there are two, and they are associated with a place called The Rusty Spur. If you make the right offerings to the right gods one might appear in your town.

Back on the road, there was another MOVE OREGON’S BORDER sign.

This was in the town of Joseph, that after being Silver Lake and Lake City, named itself after Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce. There was a statue of the chief, as well an action-packed equestrian cowboy monument,