To See the Views

 Lost Dutchman State Park looms in the distance when you are headed Southeast out of the Phoenix area. The area is filled with myth: so many have searched for the rumored Lost Dutchman Mine and have only met with their demise instead of gold. Reading the stories, it's easy to see how people can get caught up in the hunt. Yet I think that the great mystery of the Lost Dutchman is about more than gold. 

Maybe it's just because I have a fascination with the volcanic, but I find the entire surrounding area fascinating. The Apache Trail and Boyce Thompson Arboretum. There are so many shapes, colors, and textures in the land. Perhaps this is why people become obsessed with trekking across the landscape: they say it's in search for the gold when they're really under a spell by the land itself. 

The state park offers a few short trails, as well as the one up to the flatiron. Since the latter lies beyond my non-rock-climbing skills, I stuck to the lower trails. They make a small web, so I went up and then down and across and up and back down instead of just doing one small loop. That way I was able to fully soak in the views and textures. Difficulty level is moderate: most is fairly mild, but there are a couple of places that are a little steep or rocky and a little bit of loose gravel that necessitates careful footing. 

Though the weather when I went was in the 80's, there had been snow the week before. So sadly I was only able to see a couple of hidden wildflowers. But snow and rain are good, so I can't complain. And anyways, the geological colors and shapes kept me just as entertained as fields of spring wildflowers would have. After a couple of hours of wandering trails, I had lunch beneath the Dutchman, then made my way home to change before heading out again.

The evening brought me to a dual event in Downtown Phoenix celebrating Southwest Shakespeare's new artistic director, Debra Ann Byrd, and the opening of the Adeline Luxury Living apartments. The event was held in one of the complex's outdoor living areas, complete with culinary delights from surrounding restaurants.

We had a chance to hear performances from both the Southwest Shakespeare Company and the Phoenix Theatre Company. Maya J. Christian's performance of "Too Beautiful for Words" was my first introduction to The Color Purple, and her delivery was indeed beautiful. 

While I was at the Lost Dutchman, I gazed at Downtown Phoenix off in the distance. Then in the evening, I had a chance to go up to the 25th floor of Adeline and look on the last tinges of orange left from the setting sun. 

The location puts it right by both the Footprint Center and Chase Field and does give great views of the lights of the city--but more exciting to me was the way in which South Mountain provided an organic frame for the view. 

From the lonely mountains to the heart of the city, that's where you'll find me.

Step in Time

On the edge of Downtown Phoenix is a place that rightfully calls itself "Arizona's most unique live entertainment venue." It's called The Duce, and it's a warehouse speakeasy, a vintage-style eatery, and a true step back in time. Well, that last part is specifically in regards to their Wednesday night swing dancing, which is our focus for today.

You know when you watch videos of the Star Wars droid-builders? That's what it felt like stepping into this space; it was like finding a niche community brought into real life. One might go swing dancing just for the fun of getting out and being active and being around people, but generally this specific type of dance attracts those with a flair for the vintage. Especially given the venue's atmosphere, the evening is an escape from the twenty-first century. There is classiness (from the modern perspective) in swing dancing, and yet there is also this loose, rebellious type of freedom about it (which you can see when you look at what people thought about it a century ago when it was new). 

Whether you come semi-dressed-up or in plain clothes, with a vintage flourish or without, you'll fit into the space. Deciding on what shoes to wear, I almost forgot that I already own the perfect pair. My Rockport old lady comfort shoes (which you can apparently still buy, even though I've had them for years) fit in perfectly with that 1930's vibe--and being comfort shoes, they are, well, comfortable. Comfort's a must; lace-ups look just as good with a dress as anything else. Being, though, that I like going vintage, I was glad to know that I fit in just as I was. (Technically speaking, of course, the 19th century is more my era, so was going into the 20th century stepping backwards or forwards in time?)

If you go, the first part of the evening is the lesson. That's great of course if you've never been swing dancing before--though it's still a lot to pick up your first time. They rotate partners, so it really doesn't matter if you go with a partner or not. Dancing with different people ends up being a chance to learn something different with each person. You realize more about how you move when it's placed in contrast to different people. Even after the lesson, most people were dancing with multiple people throughout the night. 

That in itself is quite a classy, old world vibe. During the lesson, they gave a joking-toned admonition to let them know if anyone was creepy and they'll kick them out. In contrast to being a place where you have to watch your back, it's a safe space. It's like you really have gone back nearly a century to a time in which basic manners and respect are the norm. You can step on and off the dance floor with people you've just met and it feels natural. And might I add, too, that it's nice to (as a female) feel feminine with partners leading you in different steps. (Well, I guess it wasn't all traditional roles--I also danced with a fellow lady at one point, which was fun, too.)

I've been contemplating that concept of leading and following to make my obligatory metaphor. One of the things I learned (as someone who really hasn't danced at all) was that you have to maintain your frame (which, what do you know, also means your arms and not just your back/shoulders) in order for your partner to be able to lead you. That is, if you keep losing frame in your arms, it's harder for them to indicate which way they want you to go. So you have to be solid in yourself in order to be led. Are you sensing the metaphor yet?

It would seem like too much contrast. You might ask, isn't following the passive role, whereas leading is the active role? But the truth is passivity doesn't get you anywhere, even if someone's trying to lead you. And allowing yourself to be led isn't being passive; it's partnership. So in order to be part of a partnership, each person has to be active and whole. And in order to be active in one's own life, one must be stable and poised in order to react to whatever may come. (I could also keep the metaphor going to describe what it means to submit to God's leadership in life, but maybe that's enough rambling for now.)

So there we have it. Step into new spaces and you never know what you might find. Maybe it'll be a swinging, vintage speakeasy.

Let It Stay

Normally I don't post anything about the Images of America books. Usually they're not well-suited towards the typical reaction-to-a-book post, though I do quite like them. You can find one on whatever city or town you're interested in--and probably on your favorite state park or historic bridge, too. In fact, the sub-topics are so many now that I wonder how many total Images of America books there are about the greater Phoenix area.

I did have something to say about the Downtown Phoenix book: it was rather depressing. Phoenix history is fascinating because it's in many ways the history of the effects of industrialization. People had been settling in Arizona for decades, but Phoenix didn't really take off as this massive, constantly growing thing until it had a good water supply and a connection to the railroad. So the start of the boom for Phoenix was the turn of the century, when electricity and motor cars and refrigeration were on the rise.

It was quite a "cultural" place. You turn the pages of this book and find all sorts of beautiful or fascinating buildings. But then you get to the end of the caption and read "no longer standing" or "demolished in ___" and it's really quite sad. Like a lot of cities, Phoenix became quite awkward as people started settling more in the suburbs and focusing their attention into those places.

Think about even today. You'll go downtown if you're going to see a game or a show or if you work in one of the office buildings. But for a cute old town district, you go into the surrounding cities. For restaurants, probably the same, unless you're catching something right before the show or game starts--even if you are going to Phoenix, it's probably higher up than the downtown area.

Granted, the entertainment area is there in Phoenix (I miss you, Symphony Hall). Even some of the historical has been saved (looking at you, Heritage Square). And there is art, too, with First Fridays and the art galleries. But when you look at the pictures of great brick buildings that were smothered and then torn down, it's regretful that things didn't happen differently.

The hope is that when we build things, we build things for permanence. And when we look at a place, we also look at it with permanence. Instead of saying, what can we demolish, to say what is already here that we can continue to use? I don't like the idea of a place where buildings are torn down and rebuilt every few decades. How wasteful is that? Instead I hope that we can more often build things to stay and maintain the things that we have.

Exploring Downtown

"I should go to ____ sometime." "Someday I'll ____." Yeah, most of us find ourselves saying these words for years before we finally do the things we talk about--if we even ever do. A couple of weeks ago I got to two more of my "I should" activities.

I'm in Downtown Phoenix often, but only one side of it. So I tend to just leave the things on the other side for later. These included the tour of the Orpheum Theatre and the Wells Fargo Museum. You'll also want to note that both of these are free, so all you have to pay for is parking. If it's worth it to you, you can also do Park & Ride and take the light rail in to save a little. Your $4 day pass will also let you get closer to any other museums you might want to see that day--if you want to make a full day out of it. The Rosson House, the Science Center, the Phoenix Art Museum, and the Heard Museum are just a few.

Orpheum Theatre tours are generally every other Tuesday at 12 and 1:30. Be sure and check the website to make sure you have the right day. The next tours will be on November 19th. You meet at the marquee to begin. Note that, like when you go to a show at the Orpheum, the entrance is not on the corner of the building; keep walking west. While some people (especially perhaps if you're visiting Phoenix) might want to go on the tour just to see the theatre, it's worth going even if you've been in before. I've been to a show there, but I still wanted to learn more.

The tour focused on the history and architecture. Our group was around ten to fifteen people. The tour moves from the lobby to the main seating area to the balcony. You have the chance, then, to sit in seats on both levels and compare where you might want to sit. Balconies always win for me--I get a better view. Then again, a taller person might find the Orpheum's balcony a little cramped and yet that person also would have a clear view sitting on the bottom because no one's head will block their view. One of my favorite parts of the tour? Behind the scenes. We saw the area where performers would get ready to go on stage, the green rooms, and the stage. You can read up on history, but only by going on a tour like this can you stand on the stage (unless, of course, you're a performer, but most of us aren't).

Two practical notes. I'd thought that the tour was an hour (and I heard others say the same), but it was almost two. So plan for that. It was also very cold, so if you're a thin-blooded Arizonan like me, maybe bring a sweater.

The Wells Fargo Museum is just a step away, so it makes for the perfect before or after tour activity. If you just walk through, sure, you can be done in five minutes. But if you read everything, you can be there from half an hour to an hour. They have a few pieces of art and artifacts to look at and some interactive activities. If you go with kids (or you're an adult who likes to play, too), they'll love the phones and telegraphs. It's a nice little opportunity to get a glimpse back into the prairie days.

So there you have it. There is always more to do, more to see, even right where you are. Even the little things, the things that might not take up much time and that we therefore don't set aside time for, are worth seeing and worth doing. Let's keep exploring.