By Blog Adventurer Holden Hartle
Photo credits: Amanda Laule
Not to sound cheesy, but over Labor Day weekend I had the most amazing experience. I, along with a few friends, embarked on a journey around the Salton Sea. On this journey, we stopped at Salvation Mountain and, the real attraction, Slab City.
For those that don’t know, Salvation Mountain is a sculpture made by Leonard Knight. He dedicated 30 years of his life to the spread of one 
phrase: God is love. This phrase is plastered all over the mountainside. The pull factor of Salvation Mountain, at least for me, is that there is nothing like Salvation Mountain anywhere in the world. Its uniqueness and originality is unmatched.
If you travel half a mile east of Salvation Mountain, you will find Slab City. Residents live completely off the grid. There is no electricity, running water, or most things that make life in the desert comfortable, but residents make it work.
Upon arrival, you are greeted with rows of trailers, which may remind you of a trailer park. But, if that’s the case, this is the single greatest trailer park in the world. Beautiful murals line the entrance, and people are often outside their trailers selling various items, from pottery to art lessons.
Our specific destination was East Jesus, cleverly named as it is east of Salvation Mountain. East Jesus is an art gallery that is made entirely out of recycled material. We get out of the car and enter the appropriately named, West Satin. West Satin is more of a hang-out area rather than an art gallery. Inside was a group of people simply talking about their lives and their stories.
Before leaving home for Slab City, four different people came up to me and said, “Don’t get out of the car. You could get attacked by 
homeless people.” Let me tell you how glad I am that I didn’t listen to those people. The Slab City residents were some of the most genuinely nice people I have ever met. Though I never got his name, one resident gave us some insight into why and how someone would live there.
When I asked the man how he lives without common amenities, he responded with his own question, “How do you live?”
“With electricity and air conditioning.”
“Are you happy?”
“I’d say so.”
“Are you stressed?”
“Well, everyone is stressed where I live.”
“That is how I live comfortably. There are no electricity bills, no utility bills, and no rent. You just live. There is no timetable for when you have to do something. You just do it whenever you can.” To adults who pay bills and to teenagers who are generally stressed all of the time, this sounds like a Utopia. But it wasn’t always so Utopian.
When the government was surveying the area to build a wall between America and Mexico, they tried to drive the residents out. Their way of accomplishing this was to shut off Slab City’s water. Though he didn’t go into exact details, the man explained that now they have more water than before the government concreted their water pipes.
Their stress-free life and their sense of community is something that I’ve never seen before. We live in a society where we need to get everything done on a schedule, but why not take a breath? The residents of Slab City are living full Hakuna Matata, with no worries or cares. Most of us say that we could never live without our electronics or air conditioning, but look at the hundreds of people living in our backyard that have no electronics, yet they are some of the happiest people I’ve ever met. Maybe there is something to take away from these Slab City-ians about how to live a happy life.
Editor: Luke Langlois
airports with whose terminals and gates he knew not about; moreover, he suffered much by bad seats and whining kids while trying to fly comfortably and bring himself safely home in one piece; but do what he might he could not conquer the tiredness, for he suffered through his own sheer folly in sitting next to an 18-month-old baby, so his brain prevented him from ever taking a nap. Tell me, too, about all these things, O daughters of Zeus, from whatsoever source you may know them.
some food, we drove to the train tracks. As soon as we dropped the tailgate, hungry villagers appeared out of nowhere. We sliced turkey, dished potatoes, and handed out oranges. At first it was awkward; I had never done anything like this before. I couldn’t understand them; they couldn’t understand me. One by one the Mexican children smiled; I smiled back. Later, I surprised myself by playing football in the desert.
here, one in the Czech Republic.) It was already very unfortunate for me having to study for two high schools, but it was necessary to have it done. My journey was planned to begin on the 15th of December. I was all packed and went to a nice brunch with Trey. We were sitting in the restaurant with plates full of pancakes, talking and enjoying our last moments before I left when I remembered to check my flight, making sure everything was still planned and on time. To my surprise, it said that my flight was delayed by about five hours! There was no way this could work because I was flying from Palm Springs to Denver where I was supposed to have only a 45-minute layover. So, Trey and I went to the airport early to ask “What’s going on?!” When we arrived, a man working for United confirmed that I will indeed be missing my flight to Denver by exactly five hours. I started freaking out, so he said he would try to find another flight to get me to Czech on time. It was about 12:45 p.m., and the man finally found another flight and said I can fly to San Francisco, but I would have to go now, because the flight takes off in a little less than ten minutes. Not knowing that I would have to run to my gate, I had left my luggage and purse in Trey’s car so he had to run for it. They didn’t even let me put luggage on the belt and told me to run. So I took my purse, said bye To Trey, and ran to my gate. I had to pass all the TSA checkpoints and everyone was yelling at me that I am late. Finally, I arrived to my plane without knowing if my luggage would fly all the way with me. As I finally got to my seat, some woman was sitting there. So, I went to her and asked her nicely if she can move because it is MY seat, but she refused. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, so I just put myself down in the middle spot.
never found out what happened. Everything eventually calmed down, and after a tiresome journey, I landed in Frankfurt. Glad I was finally in Europe, my relief was quickly erased when I found out that my remaining flight itineraries were left back in the Palm Springs airport. With no idea where to go, I finally found my gate. But with my luck, my terrible journey didn’t end there. The woman working at Lufthansa said that she didn’t see me on the list for my last flight to Czech, and she explained to me that I couldn’t fly anywhere. After an hour of her calling and me being utterly exhausted, she finally got clearance to let me go to the plane and I successfully flew to Prague.
correct one, catching my flight back to Frankfurt. Surprisingly, nothing too bad happened on this flight, and from there I landed in Houston where the worst part of my trip was still waiting for me. Everyone was leaving the plane, and I was slowly following the herd of people off. There was a huge line for immigration control. Luckily, I had a four-hour layover, but nothing would prepare me for what was about to come. I finally got in front and went before the immigration officer. He was going through my papers, passport, joking around, . . . and then he stopped, looked at me, and said that they don’t accept copies of an I-20 (document for international students). When I tried to show him an original one with just my name and a signature on it, he said that there is no date, so they couldn’t accept it. I started being very nervous. He told me to wait and sent someone for me. A police officer came for me and took me to a small room. My international student agency told me to call them if something like this happened, but no phones were allowed in the room. I stayed there three hours being questioned about everything, but I had no way to see the time; I was scared I had missed my flight. The officers there were very nervous because the room was filling up with people every minute. People had to start sitting outside, that’s how packed it was. Some of them couldn’t even speak English, which made the officers even more angry. There were also little kids crying, and I felt really bad after ten hours of them flying. I thought, “They will send me back to my home country,” or “I will definitely miss my flight to Palm Springs.” I would be stuck in Texas without anyone. The officer was trying to joke with me about basketball, but I really wasn’t in the mood for it. They finally let me go, and I didn’t miss my flight (surprisingly), but this experience will always stay in my heart. It was the spookiest thing that has ever happened to me.
Boys get painted eggs, chocolate, and candies from girls. Men get painted eggs and shots of alcohol. I did not have a chance to “enjoy” this tradition much growing up. I live in the capital city where this tradition isn’t as widespread. Most of my family lives in smaller towns or villages which gave me the opportunity to experience this yearly torture four times.