As we walk down the Muzak-filled hallways towards Gate 66 in the terribly crowded and unhelpfully employed LAX Airport, a sense of melancholy fills me. It’s the end of our trip. The past two weeks are just a blur of memories from 14 states and 5,178 miles of roads that got us to our cross-country destinations. It’s been a momentous trip that will have impacted me for the rest of my life. It’s only fitting that I’m writing this now in Gate number 66, the same number as the very famous route that spans the United States, which starts back east and ends here in Los Angeles. It’s also fitting that we drove on Route 66 here in California for the only time on our trip just a few days ago.
It’s hard to sum up a trip of this nature, where almost every day was a new destination, where every person we passed along the way was unique to their location in this grand United States, where each and every attraction—from the Columbus corner store to the Grand Canyon—that we came across was also unique to itself and its location, but was new to us in our journey. We now have a specific memory and opinion about each of these places, these cities, states, stores, and roads that we have crossed along this journey.
We discovered so much about this country, but there are an innumerable amount of places in this country that I have yet to discover and can only hope to. In a place this immense of which I am a part, I think it’s important that I take the time to actually go and try to figure it out. If I share the title of “American” with millions of others, I should know what it is to be an American. I feel like I touched only upon the tip of the iceberg in determining that on this trip. But I am more knowledgeable about America, having traveled across a large section of this great country, and for that I will always be thankful.
Having the advantage now of cross-national retrospect, I can say which states and cities I loved more than others, and why. Chicago and Denver were two of the greatest cities we visited. Chicago for its beautiful people, beautiful lakeside location, fun bars and cultural music. One of the greatest times I had on this trip was watching Joanna Connor rip her guitar to shreds at Kingston Mines Night Club. Denver was a constant blast, with tons to do thanks to both its amazing nightlife and its proximity to endless nature activities like whitewater rafting—which we loved—and hiking, especially by the Red Rocks Amphitheater. The best state we visited was Montana and the worst, no surprise, was Nebraska. Montana, from the second we entered, was a gorgeous retreat from city life, while still embodying aspects of that society—like nightlife, outgoing people, and friendliness—that I love. Walking down Main Street in Bozeman, so much a “Main Street USA,” was an amazing way to see the culture of this mountainside college town, radically different to what I’m used to home on Long Island or in college in Delaware. There were musicians playing beautiful country western in the bars, people were willing to start up a conversation about your life and theirs, and everyone seemed to just be happy-go-lucky. I saw this same type of people in Wyoming as well. I don’t know if it’s the serene mountain atmosphere that gets to their heads or what exactly it is, but it went to mine as well, and I now too have become a Midwest/Montana/Wyoming addict. As previously mentioned, Nebraska was the worst state, and although our outlook during this interim period (between Chicago and Denver) was probably the lowest of the whole trip, the vast emptiness of the state did not help our declining mood. It seemed that the people of Nebraska were sheltered and negative in a sense, like they just didn’t realize there was a whole world out there if they only went east or west of their state. It’s depressing really, if you think about it.
I can’t say enough of the Midwest/Western people. By far the nicest people we met, complete strangers in reality, were in Colorado, Montana and Wyoming, and I will rave about these people and look forward to encountering them for the rest of my life.
On the contrary, however, were the less than helpful or kind people that we unfortunately came across in this nation. Of these are the Navajo, LA & San Francisco people. The Navajo had a strange way about them that just seemed put off in a sense to everyone who was “staying” on their reservation. People of LA and San Francisco were impersonal and impatient, a flaw common to east coast cities that we’re used to like Philadelphia (where I’m writing this now) and New York.
We visited a few tourist havens of vacuity, where everyone was mindless and people walked around like zombies ooh-ing and ahh-ing just like everyone else. These areas were the Grand Canyon, LA, and San Francisco. My impatient self came out in places like these where I just couldn’t deal with the immense amount of people, many of whom were foreigners who had a hard time understanding English. It just put a damper on the experience of these places, which otherwise I would largely enjoy.
Of course we encountered some incredible landscapes; I’d even venture to say that 90% of the trip was the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen. Here are the most notable landscapes that I noticed: the California Pacific Coast Highway, southern Utah/northern Arizona on US-89, and all of Montana/Yellowstone/Wyoming. Each of these landscapes is unique in their own ways and cannot be described anymore than you just have to see it for yourself.
We were blessed with phenomenal weather the entire time. It only rained significantly while we were on the road only twice in Indiana and Iowa. When it was oppressively hot, it didn’t stay hot. But the sun was shining for us 95% of our journey, and that’s pretty damn good.
Yesterday, before we boarded our plane in San Francisco, we drove up to Muir Woods, north of the Bay Area. Walking around this ancient forest, where most of the trees are over 1000 years old, I got a surreal kind of perspective that I had only experienced in glimpses on this trip. Touching one of those trees was like touching the past, before my life, before California was called California, before any humans inhabited the area. But it was also like touching the future. If those trees have lasted 1000 years, who knows how many more they will persist. And the saplings in that forest are our link to the future; they will grow into huge redwoods that will be a link to the distant past, a time that is present in my life right now. Steinbeck wrote about them as “ambassadors from another time,” and that “the vainest, most slap-happy and irreverent of men, in the presence of redwoods, goes under a spell of wonder and respect.” It is this respect that I have found throughout this trip, respect for something greater than myself, something greater than any one of us, that words can barely show.
It’s also surreal growing up my entire life minutes from the Atlantic Ocean and then driving clear cross the country to the other ocean and spending a few days there. It’s another way to put life and this country into perspective. The end of the United States, looking out onto the Pacific, is so vast that I was compelled to ask the question, “What’s there?” which then evokes the question, “What’s here?” and that’s a question that I’m going to keep asking myself for the rest of my life, and one for which I will be in constant search of an answer.
The entire way home, the following quote from Robert Pirsig has been hanging over my head like an albatross: “You look at where you’re going and where you are and it never makes sense, but then you look back at where you’ve been and a pattern seems to emerge. And if you project forward from that pattern, then sometimes you can come up with something.” During the hours of reflecting at where I’ve been on the endless flights back east, I come to sense a feeling of longing that I have for more travel, but also a sincere sense of accomplishment that I possess. To answer my question of what’s here, and to add to my search for happiness, I have learned that happiness is here and now in life and can be found in all parts of the country, we just have to be looking for it within ourselves. Happiness did not exist at those specific cities, coordinates of latitude and longitude, it existed in me while I was in those cities, traveling at a specific latitude and longitude, and that is something that I learned that I will take with me wherever I travel for the rest of my life.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
San Francisco - Last Night of the Trip
So here we are, the city by the bay. When we left LA yesterday it was a little surreal knowing that when we got into our next city, it would be the final stop on this trip. We hopped right on the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) in Santa Monica and headed north. We stopped briefly in Malibu for breakfast, in San Luis Obispo for lunch, and a brief stop at the John Steinbeck Museum in Salinas, but other than that, it was smooth sailing along this incredibly scenic route.
The PCH has to be the prettiest road in America. For most of the time, you are nestled right on the coast, with nothing to your left (if you're driving north) but endless sea. It was the perfect road to completely sum up our trip because the landscape kept changing, just like the landscape that we've encountered across the entire country. There were palm trees of course, but there were also sprawling farms and endless trees, and the same livestock that we saw on the side of the road in Montana, Indiana, Iowa and all across. There were mountains--not Tetons of course--but mountains that came down and crashed right onto the PCH and going into the Pacific Ocean itself.
Before we got to Big Sur, the roads climbing up the mountain were so winding I couldn't believe at times how close to the mountain (and the water) we were actually getting. A sharp turn right and we would be lodged into the mountainside. A quick turn left and we would be submerged into the ocean. It was cool to be driving on the PCH because you really were in charge of everything, as if the road itself wasn't already in charge of you.
San Francisco, like every destination, was welcome and we were greeted by my cousin Suzy, and later met by my cousin Kyle. I'm really glad we ended the trip here and I was able to hang out with my cousins. Last night we went to a Mexican bar/restaurant which had incredibly sweet margaritas and spicy enchiladas (and lasagna, according to Suzy). We all had a fun time, got a little soused on the margaritas, and then went home and watched The Karate Kid. Good first night in San Fran.
Today we actually got to see more of San Francisco. Suzy lives in The Mission part of town, which is very ethnic, with a million cultures and people on 24th Street, with their cultural and colorful murals decorating the walls of their iglesias and panaderias. We checked out Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf, which is incredibly crowded and there are way too many tourists that it almost shed a dark light on the already fog-covered city. After seeing the sea lions, trying Anchor Steam beer and Boudin Bakery sourdough bread, we headed over the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito, a beautiful seaside town that reminded me of Port Jeff, for a great seafood dinner, where I got my first taste of authentic Napa Valley wine.
Overall, I'm glad we came to San Fran and I'm happy that I hung out with my cousins, but I think our opinions on the city as a whole are less than amazing. If we had started in San Fran on the other hand, I believe we would have liked it a little bit more. But, after seeing all the amazing places we've been to, and staying and going out in such great cities across the country, we had higher standards for what we liked, and I don't think the city of San Fran really met up to them.
A longer, more reflective post about the entire trip will come tomorrow. As for right now, we're about to watch the Darjeeling Limited while drinking some white wine, with only one window open because it's so damn cold out here in the city by the bay.
The PCH has to be the prettiest road in America. For most of the time, you are nestled right on the coast, with nothing to your left (if you're driving north) but endless sea. It was the perfect road to completely sum up our trip because the landscape kept changing, just like the landscape that we've encountered across the entire country. There were palm trees of course, but there were also sprawling farms and endless trees, and the same livestock that we saw on the side of the road in Montana, Indiana, Iowa and all across. There were mountains--not Tetons of course--but mountains that came down and crashed right onto the PCH and going into the Pacific Ocean itself.
Before we got to Big Sur, the roads climbing up the mountain were so winding I couldn't believe at times how close to the mountain (and the water) we were actually getting. A sharp turn right and we would be lodged into the mountainside. A quick turn left and we would be submerged into the ocean. It was cool to be driving on the PCH because you really were in charge of everything, as if the road itself wasn't already in charge of you.
San Francisco, like every destination, was welcome and we were greeted by my cousin Suzy, and later met by my cousin Kyle. I'm really glad we ended the trip here and I was able to hang out with my cousins. Last night we went to a Mexican bar/restaurant which had incredibly sweet margaritas and spicy enchiladas (and lasagna, according to Suzy). We all had a fun time, got a little soused on the margaritas, and then went home and watched The Karate Kid. Good first night in San Fran.
Today we actually got to see more of San Francisco. Suzy lives in The Mission part of town, which is very ethnic, with a million cultures and people on 24th Street, with their cultural and colorful murals decorating the walls of their iglesias and panaderias. We checked out Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf, which is incredibly crowded and there are way too many tourists that it almost shed a dark light on the already fog-covered city. After seeing the sea lions, trying Anchor Steam beer and Boudin Bakery sourdough bread, we headed over the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito, a beautiful seaside town that reminded me of Port Jeff, for a great seafood dinner, where I got my first taste of authentic Napa Valley wine.
Overall, I'm glad we came to San Fran and I'm happy that I hung out with my cousins, but I think our opinions on the city as a whole are less than amazing. If we had started in San Fran on the other hand, I believe we would have liked it a little bit more. But, after seeing all the amazing places we've been to, and staying and going out in such great cities across the country, we had higher standards for what we liked, and I don't think the city of San Fran really met up to them.
A longer, more reflective post about the entire trip will come tomorrow. As for right now, we're about to watch the Darjeeling Limited while drinking some white wine, with only one window open because it's so damn cold out here in the city by the bay.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Los Angeles #2
What a great day today in Hollywood. Let me do a quick recap. We were awakened to a wonderful breakfast cooked for us by Jose the incredible host, who took off from work today just to be our personal tour guide of LA, and let me tell you we would have been lost without him. He took us first to the Santa Monica Pier, where we saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time on this trip, our official destination. It was a surreal feeling to be standing on the opposite coast from which we started this journey, and the irony was that we didn't even drive to the coast--Jose did! Tomorrow we will officially be driving the coast up to San Francisco on the Pacific Coast Highway, which will make our cross-coastal trip official.
We then met up with Colleen at her job on The Lot, the former Warner Brothers Studio, and then walked to Jamba Juice (which was recommended to us all the way back in Chicago!). Jose took us to Hollywood Boulevard, where we walked and saw the Chinese Theater, the stars Walk of Fame, and some ridiculous "characters" like fat Spiderman, Elvis, and 4 Jack Sparrow's. There were way too many tourists, way too many people focused on themselves and their own personal advancement, that I dubbed the city "the cemetery for hopes and dreams." The characters just brought this kind of sadness out of me that I sensed throughout Hollywood Blvd--everyone trying to be someone they're not or something they hope to be.
We drove back along Sunset Boulevard, which is beautiful, and met up with Colleen at the excellent outdoor mall The Grove, where we ate delicious entree crepes from The Crepe Company in the Farmers Market section. Colleen and Jose then took us to the Upright Citizens Brigade comedy show where we saw the group improvise based on people in the crowd's iPods. It was fun to experience and they even played a couple of my songs, creating skits based off of them. To sum up the vacuous and self-centered souls in this town, outside the UCB Theatre the supposed former child-star "Jay Leno Child Lookalike" talked to us for about 5 minutes about his recent SAG-card grab and the shallowness of people in this city. It was an interesting way to get a perspective of the city. I remarked that if we weren't staying with Colleen and Jose, I know we wouldn't be getting the same kind of perspective of the city, and we would probably be more inclined to dislike the city than anything else.
We ended up tonight at a great Irish bar close to their apartment, where I drank an incredible White Russian and we enjoyed some great times and conversation, the five of us together, with our generous hosts here on our last night in LA.
We then met up with Colleen at her job on The Lot, the former Warner Brothers Studio, and then walked to Jamba Juice (which was recommended to us all the way back in Chicago!). Jose took us to Hollywood Boulevard, where we walked and saw the Chinese Theater, the stars Walk of Fame, and some ridiculous "characters" like fat Spiderman, Elvis, and 4 Jack Sparrow's. There were way too many tourists, way too many people focused on themselves and their own personal advancement, that I dubbed the city "the cemetery for hopes and dreams." The characters just brought this kind of sadness out of me that I sensed throughout Hollywood Blvd--everyone trying to be someone they're not or something they hope to be.
We drove back along Sunset Boulevard, which is beautiful, and met up with Colleen at the excellent outdoor mall The Grove, where we ate delicious entree crepes from The Crepe Company in the Farmers Market section. Colleen and Jose then took us to the Upright Citizens Brigade comedy show where we saw the group improvise based on people in the crowd's iPods. It was fun to experience and they even played a couple of my songs, creating skits based off of them. To sum up the vacuous and self-centered souls in this town, outside the UCB Theatre the supposed former child-star "Jay Leno Child Lookalike" talked to us for about 5 minutes about his recent SAG-card grab and the shallowness of people in this city. It was an interesting way to get a perspective of the city. I remarked that if we weren't staying with Colleen and Jose, I know we wouldn't be getting the same kind of perspective of the city, and we would probably be more inclined to dislike the city than anything else.
We ended up tonight at a great Irish bar close to their apartment, where I drank an incredible White Russian and we enjoyed some great times and conversation, the five of us together, with our generous hosts here on our last night in LA.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Los Angeles #1
I am currently writing from the abode of my high-school friend Colleen and her boyfriend Jose, two of the most generous and hospitable people I've ever met. We left Tuba City yesterday early at around 8 (Navajo time, 7 AM Arizona time), and here are some of my thoughts from the road:
Wednesday we hiked a few miles into the Grand Canyon. It was a struggle at times but I'm so glad we did it. You really have to push yourself at certain points to get through it, but the reward of finishing is so worth it. I'm reminded again--and was the whole time going back up the canyon on Wednesday--of the quote "It's not the mountain we conquer but ourselves." What I found incredibly calming about hiking into the canyon was the ability to be alone and reflect. Yes, the three of us hiked in together, but for 90% of it, we were involved in our own introspection. And because of that, all three of us weren't the same people hiking out of the canyon as we were hiking in. It has that surreal effect on you.
Serenity and peace bring me happiness--the goal of this trip. One of the most serene moments of this voyage so far was at Cedar Ridge--our inner-Canyon destination. I lodged myself between two branches on a tree and just sat and contemplated everything surrounding me. I felt so insignificant, but the massiveness, the grandness of that feeling almost brought meaning to my life. Compared to this hole in the earth, compared to all the people on this grand earth, I am still here, still living, breathing, and being. It was an awesome revelation.
On the road Thursday morning, we stopped at Simpson's Market in Arizona at the intersection of I-89 and AZ-64 in the Navajo Nation. A Navajo man said good morning to every single person waiting on line for their breakfast burritos--a New Yorker, a few French Canadians, and a few Navajos, all radically different--and he said so eloquently, "It's a beautiful day to wake up on this side of the grass." I'm so glad I have this man's positive outlook to remember my stay in the Navajo Nation because some of the other Navajos we encountered were a little less than gracious and welcoming.
We were back on I-40 W, the National Road as we saw it called in Ohio. The mountains in Arizona certainly aren't as illustrious as we've seen. They are mounds of brown with specks of green. They make me long for the mountains of Wyoming and Montana or the sweet release and endless expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
The Arizona desert is sparse and unwelcoming, a contrast to what we've seen in this country all along. The Mohave Desert in California is not exactly what I pictured (sands stretching out into infinity, with level ground and no mountains). Instead, there are millions of cacti and other desert plants of a brownish, dried-out color. The mountains in the distance are either brown heaps or haze-covered shadows. There is a sense of endlessness here, in the state where we are to actually end our journey.
I could not believe the smog surrounding I-15, heading into LA. Every mountain, building, road in the distance was covered in a thick haze mixture of smoke and fog. I kept thinking of Matt's new friend Denver Phil who said LA is a "vacuous city." We drove on Route 66 (just to say we did), but the road was uneven and a poor drive--both with road conditions and the trailer homes that sat on its shoulders and dotted the National Trails Highway that spans from east to west coast, just like we have done in this past week.
We made it into LA alright. The city is big, with skyscrapers jutting out of the skyline. It was nice to get back into a fast pace again, something I have been missing in the land-locked states of this country. We visited Beverly Hills yesterday, having lunch at the Beverly Hills Diner, which was old-fashioned and delicious. We walked around 90210 admiring the stores, rich people, and anyone on Rodeo Drive in general, rich or not, tourist or local.
Our friends Colleen and Jose took us to a great local restaurant, Marie Callendar's, for dinner, and it was a nice change of pace to be with people we knew. It's a good way to end this trip across the country--with the comfort of friends and family who remind me of home, all the way on the opposite coast, but appearing as a glimpse here on the west Californian coast, with the endlessly blue Pacific Ocean to our west and the entire continental United States recently crossed and experienced to our east.
Wednesday we hiked a few miles into the Grand Canyon. It was a struggle at times but I'm so glad we did it. You really have to push yourself at certain points to get through it, but the reward of finishing is so worth it. I'm reminded again--and was the whole time going back up the canyon on Wednesday--of the quote "It's not the mountain we conquer but ourselves." What I found incredibly calming about hiking into the canyon was the ability to be alone and reflect. Yes, the three of us hiked in together, but for 90% of it, we were involved in our own introspection. And because of that, all three of us weren't the same people hiking out of the canyon as we were hiking in. It has that surreal effect on you.
Serenity and peace bring me happiness--the goal of this trip. One of the most serene moments of this voyage so far was at Cedar Ridge--our inner-Canyon destination. I lodged myself between two branches on a tree and just sat and contemplated everything surrounding me. I felt so insignificant, but the massiveness, the grandness of that feeling almost brought meaning to my life. Compared to this hole in the earth, compared to all the people on this grand earth, I am still here, still living, breathing, and being. It was an awesome revelation.
On the road Thursday morning, we stopped at Simpson's Market in Arizona at the intersection of I-89 and AZ-64 in the Navajo Nation. A Navajo man said good morning to every single person waiting on line for their breakfast burritos--a New Yorker, a few French Canadians, and a few Navajos, all radically different--and he said so eloquently, "It's a beautiful day to wake up on this side of the grass." I'm so glad I have this man's positive outlook to remember my stay in the Navajo Nation because some of the other Navajos we encountered were a little less than gracious and welcoming.
We were back on I-40 W, the National Road as we saw it called in Ohio. The mountains in Arizona certainly aren't as illustrious as we've seen. They are mounds of brown with specks of green. They make me long for the mountains of Wyoming and Montana or the sweet release and endless expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
The Arizona desert is sparse and unwelcoming, a contrast to what we've seen in this country all along. The Mohave Desert in California is not exactly what I pictured (sands stretching out into infinity, with level ground and no mountains). Instead, there are millions of cacti and other desert plants of a brownish, dried-out color. The mountains in the distance are either brown heaps or haze-covered shadows. There is a sense of endlessness here, in the state where we are to actually end our journey.
I could not believe the smog surrounding I-15, heading into LA. Every mountain, building, road in the distance was covered in a thick haze mixture of smoke and fog. I kept thinking of Matt's new friend Denver Phil who said LA is a "vacuous city." We drove on Route 66 (just to say we did), but the road was uneven and a poor drive--both with road conditions and the trailer homes that sat on its shoulders and dotted the National Trails Highway that spans from east to west coast, just like we have done in this past week.
We made it into LA alright. The city is big, with skyscrapers jutting out of the skyline. It was nice to get back into a fast pace again, something I have been missing in the land-locked states of this country. We visited Beverly Hills yesterday, having lunch at the Beverly Hills Diner, which was old-fashioned and delicious. We walked around 90210 admiring the stores, rich people, and anyone on Rodeo Drive in general, rich or not, tourist or local.
Our friends Colleen and Jose took us to a great local restaurant, Marie Callendar's, for dinner, and it was a nice change of pace to be with people we knew. It's a good way to end this trip across the country--with the comfort of friends and family who remind me of home, all the way on the opposite coast, but appearing as a glimpse here on the west Californian coast, with the endlessly blue Pacific Ocean to our west and the entire continental United States recently crossed and experienced to our east.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Guest Post: Matt in a filthy hotel room in Tuba City
Ten days and three thousand miles into this trip and I've finally been conscripted into blog service. I think in the past year the longest thing I've written was probably a post-it note, so I'll just throw caution to the wind and type to my heart's content. Here's a quick summation of the highlights for myself:
Chicago - can't say enough about this city, it was beautiful in that uniquely urban way. Shining skyscrapers, relatively clean streets, friendly people, engaging nightlife - that should be enough praise to get the point across. As our first notable destination it did not disappoint.
Nebraska - twice I started to warm up to the state and that growing empathy was promptly extinguished by swarming mosquitos and over-zealous state troopers.
Denver - this place is abound with interesting and active people. White-water rafting was a great experience, especially pulling Jon out of the water.
Wyoming, Montana, & Utah - what I had been truly looking forward to on this trip. Stunning vistas around every bend made the drives exciting. It got to the point where I actually wanted to keep driving and had to be forcibly removed from the driver's seat.
This seems a good point to start reflecting. I took up the driving reins midway through Utah and took us through Salt Lake City. I had burned through over 600 pages of reading material and who knows how many songs by then, so driving was a welcome diversion from the back-seat boredom. About an hour south of SLC the traffic and oppressive haze of the city had given way to the mountains and canyons of Utah. There's something remarkably pleasing about driving through a valley, the mountains framing the horizon and the miles of open fields on either side of the road bringing a welcome feeling of insignificance, if that makes any sense. It's like the pressures and chaos of civilization are pushed beyond those mountains, and for a while there is nothing to do but turn your thoughts inward.
I had a conversation with the mother of a friend of mine recently about how people are either drawn to the beach or the mountains. I must classify myself as a mountain man (I need to grow a beard ASAP if that is the case). I find that when I'm on or around mountains or any kind of mountainous terrain I'm much more relaxed and appreciative of the "big picture." It's too easy to get lost in the mess of city and suburb life. This afternoon we finally got to get out of the car and hike a trail instead of a sidewalk, and what better place than the Grand Canyon.
As we set off from the rim into the Canyon I was in paradise. The steady crunch of the rocks under my feet beat like a cadence and the act of descending a trail that bordered a cliff dropping several thousand feet became an automated process that the recesses of my brain were capable of handling without my conscious assistance. Once again I could turn away from the thoughts that consume me in a city: Does my hair look stylishly disheveled? Is that person staring at me? Will someone scoff at me as a stupid tourist if I stop and take a picture of this? Instead I was enveloped by my surroundings and in complete serenity. Everyone on the trail was friendly and each exchange of words just reinforced my peace of mind. Once again every twist and bend brought a new incredible view. The walls of the opposing side of the canyon seemed so far away they could have been a painting. The climb back up was steep to say the least and brought intense focus - regulate breathing, sip water, avoid thousand foot plummet to death. Arriving at the top almost brought disappointment with its feelings of achievement. It was almost like cresting the rim and boarding the shuttle bus left those feelings of peace and focus back below the edge of the canyon.
I would highly recommend a cross-country drive to every American. Usually when I go on vacation I travel to one place and spend several days there, then return home. This brings a disconnected feeling when I think about that place, just like reading American history a chapter a week from a textbook. It's like jumping into a cold pool and then a hot tub, then right back in the pool. It's certainly refreshing and exhilarating, but it leaves you with different and disjointed reference points. By crossing state border after border and time zone after time zone, this truly epic country is meshing together and forming a cohesive story of the nation. We've encountered an array of interesting people, spent time in cities and the wilderness, and seen how every state blends into the next. We've spent time at a battlefield where the 7th Cavalry under George Custer were wiped out by a band of united Native American tribes, and then crossed into reservation territory where those once great nations that once covered the continent are reduced to selling trinkets and "authentic Indian arts and crafts" out of trailers. I feel guilty sitting here belittling this town when I think that this is the tract of land that they were forced onto by the government. The range of emotions and experiences that I've been through in the past ten days have taught me more about this country than a textbook ever has. I've felt both pride and shame in the past when pronouncing myself as American, but I've realized that life is all about the triumphs and failures, the peaks and valleys. The life of this nation is still relatively young and while the current era we are living in I would classify as one of America's "valleys," I think this nation has plenty of guile and ingenuity left in it to turn things around and make us proud once again. Tomorrow we complete our journey to the opposite coast, and I fully expect to love every second of it.
Chicago - can't say enough about this city, it was beautiful in that uniquely urban way. Shining skyscrapers, relatively clean streets, friendly people, engaging nightlife - that should be enough praise to get the point across. As our first notable destination it did not disappoint.
Nebraska - twice I started to warm up to the state and that growing empathy was promptly extinguished by swarming mosquitos and over-zealous state troopers.
Denver - this place is abound with interesting and active people. White-water rafting was a great experience, especially pulling Jon out of the water.
Wyoming, Montana, & Utah - what I had been truly looking forward to on this trip. Stunning vistas around every bend made the drives exciting. It got to the point where I actually wanted to keep driving and had to be forcibly removed from the driver's seat.
This seems a good point to start reflecting. I took up the driving reins midway through Utah and took us through Salt Lake City. I had burned through over 600 pages of reading material and who knows how many songs by then, so driving was a welcome diversion from the back-seat boredom. About an hour south of SLC the traffic and oppressive haze of the city had given way to the mountains and canyons of Utah. There's something remarkably pleasing about driving through a valley, the mountains framing the horizon and the miles of open fields on either side of the road bringing a welcome feeling of insignificance, if that makes any sense. It's like the pressures and chaos of civilization are pushed beyond those mountains, and for a while there is nothing to do but turn your thoughts inward.
I had a conversation with the mother of a friend of mine recently about how people are either drawn to the beach or the mountains. I must classify myself as a mountain man (I need to grow a beard ASAP if that is the case). I find that when I'm on or around mountains or any kind of mountainous terrain I'm much more relaxed and appreciative of the "big picture." It's too easy to get lost in the mess of city and suburb life. This afternoon we finally got to get out of the car and hike a trail instead of a sidewalk, and what better place than the Grand Canyon.
As we set off from the rim into the Canyon I was in paradise. The steady crunch of the rocks under my feet beat like a cadence and the act of descending a trail that bordered a cliff dropping several thousand feet became an automated process that the recesses of my brain were capable of handling without my conscious assistance. Once again I could turn away from the thoughts that consume me in a city: Does my hair look stylishly disheveled? Is that person staring at me? Will someone scoff at me as a stupid tourist if I stop and take a picture of this? Instead I was enveloped by my surroundings and in complete serenity. Everyone on the trail was friendly and each exchange of words just reinforced my peace of mind. Once again every twist and bend brought a new incredible view. The walls of the opposing side of the canyon seemed so far away they could have been a painting. The climb back up was steep to say the least and brought intense focus - regulate breathing, sip water, avoid thousand foot plummet to death. Arriving at the top almost brought disappointment with its feelings of achievement. It was almost like cresting the rim and boarding the shuttle bus left those feelings of peace and focus back below the edge of the canyon.
I would highly recommend a cross-country drive to every American. Usually when I go on vacation I travel to one place and spend several days there, then return home. This brings a disconnected feeling when I think about that place, just like reading American history a chapter a week from a textbook. It's like jumping into a cold pool and then a hot tub, then right back in the pool. It's certainly refreshing and exhilarating, but it leaves you with different and disjointed reference points. By crossing state border after border and time zone after time zone, this truly epic country is meshing together and forming a cohesive story of the nation. We've encountered an array of interesting people, spent time in cities and the wilderness, and seen how every state blends into the next. We've spent time at a battlefield where the 7th Cavalry under George Custer were wiped out by a band of united Native American tribes, and then crossed into reservation territory where those once great nations that once covered the continent are reduced to selling trinkets and "authentic Indian arts and crafts" out of trailers. I feel guilty sitting here belittling this town when I think that this is the tract of land that they were forced onto by the government. The range of emotions and experiences that I've been through in the past ten days have taught me more about this country than a textbook ever has. I've felt both pride and shame in the past when pronouncing myself as American, but I've realized that life is all about the triumphs and failures, the peaks and valleys. The life of this nation is still relatively young and while the current era we are living in I would classify as one of America's "valleys," I think this nation has plenty of guile and ingenuity left in it to turn things around and make us proud once again. Tomorrow we complete our journey to the opposite coast, and I fully expect to love every second of it.
Guest Blog By Jeff: Tuba City Edition
Ah, the Quality Inn of Tuba City. Our room, upon checking in yesterday, was home to ant(s) and a giant urine stain on the bowl. Good stuff. Before I continue with that, I just want to recap a bit of our trip from a different perspective. The White Castle Hall of Fame is surreal. It could more accurately be called a Wall of Fame. Here's hoping Jon makes it in: keep your fingers crossed, kids. Chicago, as Jon has said, was wonderful. I thoroughly enjoyed it there. The accommodations were right in the heart of the city, close to Wrigley. It was a shame to not get into the game, but I believe I killed the brain cells that remember the only letdown of that part of the trip. In Denver the former Real World house has been turned into a ridiculous martini bar in which the booths have curtains. You know, so you can close them and pretend you're... in the shower, I guess? Hey, look at me, I'm drinking my 15 dollar martini in the shower. I'm important.
Yellowstone was fantastic, though we could have seen more animals. I would have not, however, liked to see any bears. It's my one phobia. I don't mind heights, spiders, or snakes, but bears are where I take a stand, sir. No bears! I believe that is because they begin eating you from the legs. So one last thought that I do not want to have is, "Well, he should be getting to my balls soon." So that's my number one way in which I do not want to die. In no particular order, rounding out the top five are: meat grinder, printing press, falling piano, and in the war in Iraq.
I think it's funny that if a bear attacks, you are not supposed to drop your pack, because then bears will learn that it's an easy way to get food from humans. Uh huh.... I would throw my pack, the pope, and Angelina Jolie and her twin babies at a bear in order to get away. I'll buy a new backpack safely at home. Did you know that there's such a thing as bear mace? My god, why do I not have this stuff with me at all times?
Today was the Grand Canyon, or as the Navajo call it, Giant Money Hole. We hiked about a mile and a half down, which equates to 30,000 miles back up. I can't say I enjoyed the hike, but I am extremely glad we did it, because I really need the exercise. We unfortunately didn't see much wildlife here as well, which was terrible, because I wanted to use my bear mace and bear machine gun on a bear, and possibly a squirrel. I wonder if bear mace is effective on other wildlife?
Well, that's about it from me for today. The trip is great, we're getting along very well, and Rassie is a reliable transport. California astern. Depending on which way you face.
Yellowstone was fantastic, though we could have seen more animals. I would have not, however, liked to see any bears. It's my one phobia. I don't mind heights, spiders, or snakes, but bears are where I take a stand, sir. No bears! I believe that is because they begin eating you from the legs. So one last thought that I do not want to have is, "Well, he should be getting to my balls soon." So that's my number one way in which I do not want to die. In no particular order, rounding out the top five are: meat grinder, printing press, falling piano, and in the war in Iraq.
I think it's funny that if a bear attacks, you are not supposed to drop your pack, because then bears will learn that it's an easy way to get food from humans. Uh huh.... I would throw my pack, the pope, and Angelina Jolie and her twin babies at a bear in order to get away. I'll buy a new backpack safely at home. Did you know that there's such a thing as bear mace? My god, why do I not have this stuff with me at all times?
Today was the Grand Canyon, or as the Navajo call it, Giant Money Hole. We hiked about a mile and a half down, which equates to 30,000 miles back up. I can't say I enjoyed the hike, but I am extremely glad we did it, because I really need the exercise. We unfortunately didn't see much wildlife here as well, which was terrible, because I wanted to use my bear mace and bear machine gun on a bear, and possibly a squirrel. I wonder if bear mace is effective on other wildlife?
Well, that's about it from me for today. The trip is great, we're getting along very well, and Rassie is a reliable transport. California astern. Depending on which way you face.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Tuba City, Arizona
We finally made it to Tuba City, here in the Navajo Nation in Northern Arizona. We drove for about 11 1/2 hours today all the way from Jackson, Wyoming. Here are some notes along the way:
We crossed into Idaho shortly after leaving Jackson, climbing up the mountains and winding around the Tetons. In Idaho, US-26 was a gorgeous continuation of western Wyoming with the Snake River careening around scenic green mountains and valleys traveling away from the road.
Ever since Denver, it's been hard to leave the places we've visited. Last night after going to Cowboy Bar, Matt and I, ambling down Jackson Hole's Main St., found it hard to leave the town that we'd fallen in love with in only a few hours. Part of what contributed to Jackson's--and Bozeman's--splendor was the people, strangers who exuded kindness everywhere we went. They are carefree, happy-go-lucky people who don't care where you're from. You are good enough to have a conversation with, and maybe even dance with to a little country-western. It's nice to know these people are out here--they made me want to be a better, more welcoming and kind person.
A gas attendant this morning at an Idaho Chevron in Bonneville County caught us at the door and we chatted briefly about the state of the economy--how it takes him $80 to fill up his SUV and he knows that the US is storing up barrels of gas in Idaho and Utah. His lasting words were "I blame everything on George Bush." Surprising to hear that out here...
We drove by huge, intricate mountains in Pocatello, Idaho. The mountains in this area are sinewy, large muscular structures, carved details of light and dark brown. As you move further south in Idaho, green becomes the preferred mountain color, with firs and pines multiplying into the thousands. These rolling mountains--like the rivers as America's arteries--are the muscles of this country.
Salt Lake City from the highway looks like a nice mountain-side city. We had lunch at the Red Rock Brewing Company, where the beers were watered down and non-alcoholic. The hefeweizen tasted like lemonade and the food wasn't that impressive either. It's a strange city and a sign supported by the Church of Latter Day Saints (what's that even mean?!) overlooked the highway on the way out. I think I'll pass.
US-89 in Southern Utah cuts right through the mountains. It's not an interstate, so it has its pros and cons, but it was pretty sweet to be riding next to a river weaving in between the mountains we'd only seen from a distance on the interstate. The landscape in southern Utah goes through a huge transformation in colors and geological structure. US-89 goes right past Bryce Canyon National Park, Lake Powell, and Glen Canyon, all beautiful sights to behold. When we entered into the Navajo Nation in Arizona, the highway goes up the red-dirt mountains with huge views of the valleys and red mountains cascading into the horizon.
Tomorrow, we'll be checking out a bit of Tuba City and heading to the Grand Canyon for some more exploration and discovery.
We crossed into Idaho shortly after leaving Jackson, climbing up the mountains and winding around the Tetons. In Idaho, US-26 was a gorgeous continuation of western Wyoming with the Snake River careening around scenic green mountains and valleys traveling away from the road.
Ever since Denver, it's been hard to leave the places we've visited. Last night after going to Cowboy Bar, Matt and I, ambling down Jackson Hole's Main St., found it hard to leave the town that we'd fallen in love with in only a few hours. Part of what contributed to Jackson's--and Bozeman's--splendor was the people, strangers who exuded kindness everywhere we went. They are carefree, happy-go-lucky people who don't care where you're from. You are good enough to have a conversation with, and maybe even dance with to a little country-western. It's nice to know these people are out here--they made me want to be a better, more welcoming and kind person.
A gas attendant this morning at an Idaho Chevron in Bonneville County caught us at the door and we chatted briefly about the state of the economy--how it takes him $80 to fill up his SUV and he knows that the US is storing up barrels of gas in Idaho and Utah. His lasting words were "I blame everything on George Bush." Surprising to hear that out here...
We drove by huge, intricate mountains in Pocatello, Idaho. The mountains in this area are sinewy, large muscular structures, carved details of light and dark brown. As you move further south in Idaho, green becomes the preferred mountain color, with firs and pines multiplying into the thousands. These rolling mountains--like the rivers as America's arteries--are the muscles of this country.
Salt Lake City from the highway looks like a nice mountain-side city. We had lunch at the Red Rock Brewing Company, where the beers were watered down and non-alcoholic. The hefeweizen tasted like lemonade and the food wasn't that impressive either. It's a strange city and a sign supported by the Church of Latter Day Saints (what's that even mean?!) overlooked the highway on the way out. I think I'll pass.
US-89 in Southern Utah cuts right through the mountains. It's not an interstate, so it has its pros and cons, but it was pretty sweet to be riding next to a river weaving in between the mountains we'd only seen from a distance on the interstate. The landscape in southern Utah goes through a huge transformation in colors and geological structure. US-89 goes right past Bryce Canyon National Park, Lake Powell, and Glen Canyon, all beautiful sights to behold. When we entered into the Navajo Nation in Arizona, the highway goes up the red-dirt mountains with huge views of the valleys and red mountains cascading into the horizon.
Tomorrow, we'll be checking out a bit of Tuba City and heading to the Grand Canyon for some more exploration and discovery.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Jackson Hole, Wyoming
Let's talk about great quotes real quick: Last night at 317's in Bozeman, I was talking with Dick Shanahan about Sir Edmund Hilary's quote, "It's not the mountain we climb but ourselves." It's such a beautiful quote and can be applied to the trip that we're on as well. Also, in Ohio, we were discussing the quote, "To travel is better than to arrive;" I found a similar quote on a shirt here in Jackson, which of course I picked up. The quote is, "The journey is the destination." Such a beautiful way to describe our trip: where the journey and the destination are one.
Today was an amazing day, full of natural wonders. Yellowstone is hard to even describe with words--there is so much incredible natural wonder that I've never even seen the likes of before in my life. Natural hot springs, geysers (including Old Faithful), waterfalls, canyons, the tremendous Yellowstone Lake, countryside that is every shade of green. It's so hard to even describe. Matt and I took about a hundred pictures today at Yellowstone, which we traversed for over 5 hours. At one point while we were driving, a couple of bison crossed the road, and one even came within 5 feet of the car. It was seriously surreal.
After visiting our desired destinations at Yellowstone (not even a quarter of what you could do there), we were tired of driving and wanted to get to our lodging here at Jackson. Plus we hadn't really eaten much all day. So, our time going through the Grand Tetons had to be limited to just the drive straight through to jackson. The Tetons were incredible though. Picture massive mountains at your fingertips surrounding your drive everywhere you turn, with only a beautiful lake or a gorgeous green field between you and the giants. I totally want to come back and explore these two parks for more than just a couple of hours.
Here in Jackson, we are amazed with this small, cowboy western town. It came out of nowhere (from the mountains and valleys of the Tetons to the city of Jackson Hole). It has a great small-town feel, but there are so many stores, bars, galleries, plenty of things to do. We went to an amazing restaurant which served western game like bison and elk (which we ordered) and delicious local microbrews like the Grand Teton Ale or Montana's Moose Drool. Tonight we're going to head to the famous Cowboy Bar for a couple of drinks, and tomorrow we are setting out for Utah and Arizona (all in one day) bright and early when the sun rises at 6 AM. Til the next western city!
Today was an amazing day, full of natural wonders. Yellowstone is hard to even describe with words--there is so much incredible natural wonder that I've never even seen the likes of before in my life. Natural hot springs, geysers (including Old Faithful), waterfalls, canyons, the tremendous Yellowstone Lake, countryside that is every shade of green. It's so hard to even describe. Matt and I took about a hundred pictures today at Yellowstone, which we traversed for over 5 hours. At one point while we were driving, a couple of bison crossed the road, and one even came within 5 feet of the car. It was seriously surreal.
After visiting our desired destinations at Yellowstone (not even a quarter of what you could do there), we were tired of driving and wanted to get to our lodging here at Jackson. Plus we hadn't really eaten much all day. So, our time going through the Grand Tetons had to be limited to just the drive straight through to jackson. The Tetons were incredible though. Picture massive mountains at your fingertips surrounding your drive everywhere you turn, with only a beautiful lake or a gorgeous green field between you and the giants. I totally want to come back and explore these two parks for more than just a couple of hours.
Here in Jackson, we are amazed with this small, cowboy western town. It came out of nowhere (from the mountains and valleys of the Tetons to the city of Jackson Hole). It has a great small-town feel, but there are so many stores, bars, galleries, plenty of things to do. We went to an amazing restaurant which served western game like bison and elk (which we ordered) and delicious local microbrews like the Grand Teton Ale or Montana's Moose Drool. Tonight we're going to head to the famous Cowboy Bar for a couple of drinks, and tomorrow we are setting out for Utah and Arizona (all in one day) bright and early when the sun rises at 6 AM. Til the next western city!
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Bozeman, Montana
So my expectations were correct and I absolutely love Montana. We went to a wonderful brewpub tonight for dinner and beers, Montana Ale Works, where the beers--each one that I tried--were so delicious, and the food was just as good. The people in Montana are welcoming, willing to reach out and talk to you, wherever you may be from.
Heeding our Ale Works server's advice, we walked down Main Street and checked out a few bars, though most of them weren't as happening being that it's Sunday. We stopped at 317, where I had a wonderful conversation with Bozeman local Dick Shanahan, who is an architect and world traveler. We discussed Bozeman, Robert Pirsig, Montana playing the Blue Hens, our trip across the country, and the economy. I was dismayed to learn that he intends on voting for McCain in the fall, but was happy to hear he admires Obama's charisma and that he didn't sound too upset of Barack were to win. He was a worldly and interesting gentleman to talk to, and really made me excited to be in Bozeman.
We continued on to the Crystal Bar, which had a hodgepodge of different people--probably an accurate assumption of the Bozeman population. We didn't stay for long, only for a drink, but I was still convinced that the city (on regular nights, maybe not usually Sundays) is a hub for young people situated at the heels of a beautiful mountain range, where the possibilities of this world are endless. I'd certainly like to come back (I joked with Matt and Jeff as the mayor of this city) to spend some substantial time among the mountains.
Tomorrow we're waking up early again to go to Yellowstone (an absolute once-in-a-lifetime must according to Dick), Grand Tetons National Park, and ending up in Jackson Hole, Wyoming tomorrow night. So, until then....!
Heeding our Ale Works server's advice, we walked down Main Street and checked out a few bars, though most of them weren't as happening being that it's Sunday. We stopped at 317, where I had a wonderful conversation with Bozeman local Dick Shanahan, who is an architect and world traveler. We discussed Bozeman, Robert Pirsig, Montana playing the Blue Hens, our trip across the country, and the economy. I was dismayed to learn that he intends on voting for McCain in the fall, but was happy to hear he admires Obama's charisma and that he didn't sound too upset of Barack were to win. He was a worldly and interesting gentleman to talk to, and really made me excited to be in Bozeman.
We continued on to the Crystal Bar, which had a hodgepodge of different people--probably an accurate assumption of the Bozeman population. We didn't stay for long, only for a drink, but I was still convinced that the city (on regular nights, maybe not usually Sundays) is a hub for young people situated at the heels of a beautiful mountain range, where the possibilities of this world are endless. I'd certainly like to come back (I joked with Matt and Jeff as the mayor of this city) to spend some substantial time among the mountains.
Tomorrow we're waking up early again to go to Yellowstone (an absolute once-in-a-lifetime must according to Dick), Grand Tetons National Park, and ending up in Jackson Hole, Wyoming tomorrow night. So, until then....!
Billings, Montana (Published in Bozeman, MT)
We are currently on the road in Montana traveling to our destination of Bozeman. It’s been a long day of travel, but the travel has made our day today, since the scenery has been truly phenomenal ever since we left Denver, where I will pick up from last night.
We got some dinner last night and tried some Flying Dog beers at the Blake Street Tavern. Our next quest was to relive, in some respects, the Real World Denver from a couple of years ago. We went over to the actual Real World house on Market Street, which has now been redesigned as a bar called Theorie. The bar, though it was cool to reenact the Real World and be in the actual building, was a little too pretentious for us, so we moved on down the street to Lodo’s Bar & Grill. We had a great time at LoDo’s dancing on the rooftop with our Denver friends Jessica & Jennie who we met the night before. The five of us had a great time, and it was real cool making friends after being in a city for only 2 days.
This morning we were up early and out on the road, traveling on I-25 N through Colorado and Wyoming. In the beginning of Wyoming I felt like we had left the comfort of the Rockies back in Colorado and Wyoming was going to be all grassland just like Nebraska. It didn’t have the same depressing feeling—after all it was a new day, new state, and new feeling towards our trip. But after Denver, which was tremendous, and where we had a ton of fun, grassland wasn’t necessarily top on the list.
Luckily, as we drove on, there were canyons and mountains in the distance that broke up the grassy monotony and painted the scenery for us. We passed through Chugwater, home of famous chili supposedly, and on top of a canyon that we passed sat a real cowboy on his horse, just staring out into unlimited distance and time. It was beautiful. An image I will never forget. I saw quite a few cowboys—almost like a convention of them—right off the side of the road closer to Cheyenne. They were all on their horses, dressed in cowboy hat, bolo, tight jeans or pants. It’s quite the interesting country up here.
The landscape in Wyoming, as it develops further north, is magnificent—so serene and peaceful. Casper, Wyoming, I read in the USA Today in Chicago, is experiencing a housing boom (contrary to the rest of the country). The area is beautiful—situated in valley, with mountains looming in the distance. People I’m sure find happiness out here despite its desolation. The differences in this country are inspiring. Robert Pirsig, author of Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance wrote, "Some say the good is found in happiness, but how do we know what happiness is? And how can happiness be defined? Happiness and good are not objective terms. We cannot deal with them scientifically. And since they aren't objective they just exist in your mind. So if you want to be happy just change your mind. Ha-ha." My happiness on this trip is defined by my mind, yes, but also my location. Each drive, each state, each city that we wind up in brings a newfound happiness that maybe wasn't the same in the last drive, state, or city.
I keep finding that I am fascinated by water on this trip. Even the Wyoming reservoirs we pass have stood out to me. I pay attention to every river we cross (North Platte piqued my interest in the subject), including ones with crazy names like South Fork Crazy Woman and Middle Fork Crazy Woman, and for some reason water keeps fascinating me.
There is a quote that I read about in Zen and... – “You’ve got to cross that lonesome valley. You’ve got to cross it by yourself.” Crossing all these valleys, with mountains surrounding in surplus, people in serious desolation and isolation, has certainly caused for me some introspection, but I am inspired by it. These “lonely” valleys inspire me and bring me closer to everyone in this country—even the cowboy sitting atop the Wyoming canyon in Cheyenne.
The snow-capped mountains in the Wyoming distance are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Cattle, livestock, animals of all kinds roam freely only feet away from the interstate, making me realize we’re a long way from the hustle and bustle of New York and Long Island, and that’s actually comforting, healing in a sense.
Rasselas has been taking a toll on the highway, as we have now driven close too 3000 miles (in less than a week!), but he is still hanging in fine. The windshield and grill are ravaged with bug guts from Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming and Montana. As Matt put it, “We waged a jihad against the bugs of this nation.” So true.
Entering into Montana, I am in complete agreement with John Steinbeck, who wrote, "I am in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection, but with Montana it is love, and it's difficult to analyze love when you're in it...It seems to me that Montana is a great splash of grandeur." The mountains here are incredible, made up of every color imaginable. The trees and animals roam the landscape, and the sky is the grandest, bluest I have ever seen. There wasn’t a cloud visible in this “big sky country”
We stopped off I-90 at the Battle of Little Big Horn, where Custer’s Last Stand took place. The views from atop the Battle cliff were awesome, and the monument was incredibly moving. It really made me think about Americans before us, and what our purpose is in being here. Those who are remembered at the Little Big Horn Cemetary—both the American soldiers and the Native Americans—had a purpose here in America to preserve their respective ways of living, and it really made me ponder my own.
We are about an hour and a half away from Bozeman, and I’m getting excited to settle down into a quaint Montana town. Our exploration of that town will have to be tonight only, as we are leaving for Yellowstone bright and early in the morning. More to come from this beautiful Montanan town settled at the feet of the mountains and nestled with the Yellowstone River.
We got some dinner last night and tried some Flying Dog beers at the Blake Street Tavern. Our next quest was to relive, in some respects, the Real World Denver from a couple of years ago. We went over to the actual Real World house on Market Street, which has now been redesigned as a bar called Theorie. The bar, though it was cool to reenact the Real World and be in the actual building, was a little too pretentious for us, so we moved on down the street to Lodo’s Bar & Grill. We had a great time at LoDo’s dancing on the rooftop with our Denver friends Jessica & Jennie who we met the night before. The five of us had a great time, and it was real cool making friends after being in a city for only 2 days.
This morning we were up early and out on the road, traveling on I-25 N through Colorado and Wyoming. In the beginning of Wyoming I felt like we had left the comfort of the Rockies back in Colorado and Wyoming was going to be all grassland just like Nebraska. It didn’t have the same depressing feeling—after all it was a new day, new state, and new feeling towards our trip. But after Denver, which was tremendous, and where we had a ton of fun, grassland wasn’t necessarily top on the list.
Luckily, as we drove on, there were canyons and mountains in the distance that broke up the grassy monotony and painted the scenery for us. We passed through Chugwater, home of famous chili supposedly, and on top of a canyon that we passed sat a real cowboy on his horse, just staring out into unlimited distance and time. It was beautiful. An image I will never forget. I saw quite a few cowboys—almost like a convention of them—right off the side of the road closer to Cheyenne. They were all on their horses, dressed in cowboy hat, bolo, tight jeans or pants. It’s quite the interesting country up here.
The landscape in Wyoming, as it develops further north, is magnificent—so serene and peaceful. Casper, Wyoming, I read in the USA Today in Chicago, is experiencing a housing boom (contrary to the rest of the country). The area is beautiful—situated in valley, with mountains looming in the distance. People I’m sure find happiness out here despite its desolation. The differences in this country are inspiring. Robert Pirsig, author of Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance wrote, "Some say the good is found in happiness, but how do we know what happiness is? And how can happiness be defined? Happiness and good are not objective terms. We cannot deal with them scientifically. And since they aren't objective they just exist in your mind. So if you want to be happy just change your mind. Ha-ha." My happiness on this trip is defined by my mind, yes, but also my location. Each drive, each state, each city that we wind up in brings a newfound happiness that maybe wasn't the same in the last drive, state, or city.
I keep finding that I am fascinated by water on this trip. Even the Wyoming reservoirs we pass have stood out to me. I pay attention to every river we cross (North Platte piqued my interest in the subject), including ones with crazy names like South Fork Crazy Woman and Middle Fork Crazy Woman, and for some reason water keeps fascinating me.
There is a quote that I read about in Zen and... – “You’ve got to cross that lonesome valley. You’ve got to cross it by yourself.” Crossing all these valleys, with mountains surrounding in surplus, people in serious desolation and isolation, has certainly caused for me some introspection, but I am inspired by it. These “lonely” valleys inspire me and bring me closer to everyone in this country—even the cowboy sitting atop the Wyoming canyon in Cheyenne.
The snow-capped mountains in the Wyoming distance are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Cattle, livestock, animals of all kinds roam freely only feet away from the interstate, making me realize we’re a long way from the hustle and bustle of New York and Long Island, and that’s actually comforting, healing in a sense.
Rasselas has been taking a toll on the highway, as we have now driven close too 3000 miles (in less than a week!), but he is still hanging in fine. The windshield and grill are ravaged with bug guts from Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming and Montana. As Matt put it, “We waged a jihad against the bugs of this nation.” So true.
Entering into Montana, I am in complete agreement with John Steinbeck, who wrote, "I am in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection, but with Montana it is love, and it's difficult to analyze love when you're in it...It seems to me that Montana is a great splash of grandeur." The mountains here are incredible, made up of every color imaginable. The trees and animals roam the landscape, and the sky is the grandest, bluest I have ever seen. There wasn’t a cloud visible in this “big sky country”
We stopped off I-90 at the Battle of Little Big Horn, where Custer’s Last Stand took place. The views from atop the Battle cliff were awesome, and the monument was incredibly moving. It really made me think about Americans before us, and what our purpose is in being here. Those who are remembered at the Little Big Horn Cemetary—both the American soldiers and the Native Americans—had a purpose here in America to preserve their respective ways of living, and it really made me ponder my own.
We are about an hour and a half away from Bozeman, and I’m getting excited to settle down into a quaint Montana town. Our exploration of that town will have to be tonight only, as we are leaving for Yellowstone bright and early in the morning. More to come from this beautiful Montanan town settled at the feet of the mountains and nestled with the Yellowstone River.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Denver, CO - Day 2
Denver is a wonderful city. Yesterday, after relaxing in the pool at the hotel for a little while, we walked around the city and checked out its tremendous nightlife. We started with appetizers and mini-Miller High Life's at an old 60s diner-style restaurant called Steubens. We then walked through the center of the city, and decided to check out the many micro-breweries the Mile High City has to offer. First was Rock Bottom, where there was an outdoor festival with a band performing. I have to mention the sweltering heat of Denver. At times it is offensive. Matt characterized it as "hot breath."
After Rock Bottom, we stopped at a bar where patrons (unfortunately) could still smoke. Celtic was a typical Irish bar that we only stayed at for one drink. Our search was for Breckenridge's Microbrewery, which we found right by the baseball stadium, Coors Field. Our bartender Margot was delightful, as she gave us some delicious drinks and pub fare. Matt also made friends with a Denver local named Phil, who gave him some kind advice for being in the Mile High City.
We continued on to the Wynckoop Brewing Co. for a drink, and then finally ended our night a the incredible Sing Sing Dueling Pianos Bar. Sing Sing was awesome - the two performers took requests and really got the crowd going and into the songs--the likes of which were Outkast, Billy Joel, The Eagles, Lynard Skynard, etc. We think we might go back tonight.
This morning we were up bright and early and traveled to Morrison, CO to go white water rafting. This was an incredible experience. We set off from Clear Creek with our guide La (short for Laura), who was one of the most endearing people I've met on this trip so far. She set us down the river and through the rapids, and it was just amazing to see Colorado from this perspective, along the river, staring into the mountains. It was truly breathtaking. But it was a workout nevertheless. Of course, I had to be the person to fall out of the raft, but everyone in the boat was quick to reach out and get me back in. I wouldn't have had it any other way. You can see proofs of the pictures that we bought of us during the whole rafting session. Go to this website:Pictures , scroll to the bottom, click on Geo Rafting with La 7/12/08am, and you will see our group in all its glory. The pics of me falling into the water are 6-8; they're pretty funny.
After rafting, we went right down the road to the famous Red Rocks Park & Amphitheater and saw the breathtaking and magnificent view of and from the Red Rocks. Truly a sight to behold and one that words truly can't describe.
It's been a great time so far here in Denver, and we're going to continue it tonight, going out downtown probably. Tomorrow is an early wake up and travel to Bozeman, Montana.
Just have to give a quick shout-out to Matt Younghans, who's also traveling the country. I heard from him earlier today as he was driving through Texas towards Oklahoma. Sounds like he's having a great time also. Check in with everyone tomorrow from another city & time...
After Rock Bottom, we stopped at a bar where patrons (unfortunately) could still smoke. Celtic was a typical Irish bar that we only stayed at for one drink. Our search was for Breckenridge's Microbrewery, which we found right by the baseball stadium, Coors Field. Our bartender Margot was delightful, as she gave us some delicious drinks and pub fare. Matt also made friends with a Denver local named Phil, who gave him some kind advice for being in the Mile High City.
We continued on to the Wynckoop Brewing Co. for a drink, and then finally ended our night a the incredible Sing Sing Dueling Pianos Bar. Sing Sing was awesome - the two performers took requests and really got the crowd going and into the songs--the likes of which were Outkast, Billy Joel, The Eagles, Lynard Skynard, etc. We think we might go back tonight.
This morning we were up bright and early and traveled to Morrison, CO to go white water rafting. This was an incredible experience. We set off from Clear Creek with our guide La (short for Laura), who was one of the most endearing people I've met on this trip so far. She set us down the river and through the rapids, and it was just amazing to see Colorado from this perspective, along the river, staring into the mountains. It was truly breathtaking. But it was a workout nevertheless. Of course, I had to be the person to fall out of the raft, but everyone in the boat was quick to reach out and get me back in. I wouldn't have had it any other way. You can see proofs of the pictures that we bought of us during the whole rafting session. Go to this website:Pictures , scroll to the bottom, click on Geo Rafting with La 7/12/08am, and you will see our group in all its glory. The pics of me falling into the water are 6-8; they're pretty funny.
After rafting, we went right down the road to the famous Red Rocks Park & Amphitheater and saw the breathtaking and magnificent view of and from the Red Rocks. Truly a sight to behold and one that words truly can't describe.
It's been a great time so far here in Denver, and we're going to continue it tonight, going out downtown probably. Tomorrow is an early wake up and travel to Bozeman, Montana.
Just have to give a quick shout-out to Matt Younghans, who's also traveling the country. I heard from him earlier today as he was driving through Texas towards Oklahoma. Sounds like he's having a great time also. Check in with everyone tomorrow from another city & time...
Friday, July 11, 2008
Gibbon, Nebraska (Published in Denver, CO!)
This was written while on the road today. More will come from Denver tomorrow. Well a lot has happened in the past two days, and by the time we reach Denver, we’ll have traveled over 1000 miles in the 2 days! Let’s start back in Chicago on Wednesday (seems like forever ago!).
We walked all the way up Clark Street through Wrigleyville to Wrigley Stadium to find out that the Cubs game, of course, was sold out for the night. We were a bit bummed, but we went into a local bar, The Central, had a few cheap beers and caught the game against the Reds, which turned out to be rather uneventful anyway. Wrigleyville is an awesome part of town, with a million young people—and every girl in Chicago was good looking—and a million bars to choose from, and everyone is just out there having a good time routing for their team.
After we had had enough of watching the game on TV, we decided to walk back to our hotel to find out about the comedy group Second City. On our way, we were approached by a guy in a van who was drinking Old Style and playing his guitar. He said, “Guys, you have two options: Give a dollar or take a dollar.” Looking at the little box filled with dollars on the sidewalk, I was intrigued. So I went back and asked him why the two options. His response: “Well, if you needed the dollar, I’d understand and you could take it. But, looking at how you’re dressed, it seems you don’t really need the dollar, so if you took it, you’d be an asshole. But, who am I to judge? I’m just trying to get to a peace rally in Washington, D.C.” We asked this Portland, Oregon native, caught in the middle of the country trying to get across just like we were, to play us some blues and dropped a couple of dollars in his bin. Always support someone going cross country because they will certainly come across some struggles.
Second City, the comedy troupe home to Steve Carell, Stephen Colbert, Fred Willard, Eugene Levy, Bill Murray, Chris Farley and countless others, was hilarious. Once again, we didn’t plan ahead enough and missed their first show at 8, but we were lucky enough to catch the improvisational set at 10 for free, which I’m sure was just as funny. Definitely a must-see in Chicago.
On Thursday, we were on our way to Nebraska bright and early. The road through Illinois we had gotten used to: farmlands, occasional streams and rivers, nothing to really boast of. I do have to say that I-88 W in the Chicago suburbs is one of the worst roads in America – the construction and one lane really inspired some road rage in us. I was taken aback by the graciousness of a gas attendant in Rock Falls, Illinois who gave me a free cup of coffee with my gas that would be taking us through Iowa and into Nebraska.
We eventually hopped on I-80 (yes, the same road in Newark, NJ) and crossed the magnificent Mississippi River, the artery of America. It was a monumental moment on our trip; I felt fully enveloped into the West. The countryside of Iowa was beautiful picturesque farms, scaling along rolling farmhills that were right out of every farm painting you’ve ever seen. Singing “Getting’ Jiggy Wit’ It” and “Against the Wind” on I-80 by myself (my carmates were both dozing off) was complete happiness and carefreedom. We stopped in Cedar Rapids, a small, industrial city, to donate money to the Red Cross. While we were there, it was raining, and I could see the rivers were flooded and close to the bottoms of bridges. They seemed like they could need the money, so it was good to donate.
As I switched to a backseat passenger, I watched hawks soaring in the blue Iowan sky, and I sighed and thought of all that’s surrounding me. In the center of the country, I think of Chicago, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York—times past, East. And Denver, Montana, Wyoming, Arizona, California—times to come, West. It is a glorious feeling of being in the heartland of this country, the roads east and west like the veins in our body pumping blood throughout in order to keep us alive.
Along the farm encrusted roads of Iowa, I was thinking back to a conversation Jeff and I had at lunch in Chicago on Wednesday. He asked me where I get my morals from. An unconventional question, yes, but one that I treasured, especially as I’m reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which is about a cross-country trip in which the narrator is in search of values and morals. I had to answer that I attribute my morals to my entire family, from bottom to top—parents, sister, aunts, uncles, cousins & grandparents. I am extremely proud of my family and the values they’ve helped instill in me. Jeff remarked that this type of family values is rare these days, and he attributed his morals to his father, to whom he speaks very highly. Driving across a country is an excellent way to get to know geography, dialects, architecture, the different characteristics that make a country what it is, but it’s also an excellent way to find out the same characteristics about yourself and the people who travel with you, to find out what exactly makes up you and them.
We crossed over the Missouri River and into Nebraska, greeted by a welcome sign to the City of Omaha, which doesn’t have much of a downtown, pretty much what’s situated on the riverfront only. Our first stop in Nebraska was Sonic, where we had the infamous Sonic Blast. We went to Gorat’s Famous Stakes, where we had our first succulent and world-renowned Omaha Steaks, and they were extremely delicious. I felt a little out of place when there were gentlemen in the bathroom discussing their cattle and the waitress asked if we wanted more “pop.”
We arrived at our destination for the night, the Louisville Lakes State Recreation Area in Louisville, Nebraska. After setting up our tent on camping area 62, we explored the Platte River and the lakes surrounding it. I learned a life lesson here: do not wait for a bathroom at a state park in the middle of Nebraska; GO SOMEWHERE ELSE! Worst experience of the trip: going to the bathroom in the “black hole of death” in a Louisville, NE outhouse. Is that part of the rite of passage?! Despite the outhouses, this area had extremely beautiful scenery that I was actually starting to settle in and really enjoy the Nebraskan ambiance around. We collected wood for a fire, and although it took a few tries to get her going, she sparked and we had a rager right in front of us.
It felt good to put all that effort into building something and see it flourish, and fire looks magnificent when it flourishes, but like all things it must come to an end, and it did die out just about 11 at night. Sitting around our campfire that we built after exploring areas unchartered by us before was a beautiful moment, one of immense happiness (and remember, I am in search of happiness throughout the country on this trip). It was the last taste of happiness that I’d see in Nebraska.
As we settled in to sleep, so did the bugs right along with us. To try and prevent getting eaten alive, I covered myself with my sleeping bag which produced an unfathomable sweat-drenching heat. Finally at about 1, I couldn’t take it anymore and moved myself out to our one save haven, our deliverer of happiness, Rasselas (the car), where I encountered Jeff who had the same idea I did. Not long after, we were joined by Matt who also wanted shelter from the bugs. So it was Matt sprawled in the driver’s seat, Jeff in the passenger’s, and I lying across the back—And this is the same way we are traveling to Denver now. We got a few hours of sleep in eventually, after trying to block out the heat and the incessant freight train passing through at what seemed like half-hour intervals throughout the night.
Overall, I think my image of Nebraska was skewed. The people were generally affable and kind, the land we were on was beautiful, but something had been lingering ever since we crossed the Missouri—a feeling of “just getting out.” This feeling plagued us through Iowa’s long farm stretches, and lingered with us in Nebraska. This wasn’t our destination; we wanted Denver—a big city, with more fast-paced people like us. So no offense to Omaha—you were lovely—but we’re moving on to Denver (and early this morning) and you won’t be seeing me anytime too soon.
We walked all the way up Clark Street through Wrigleyville to Wrigley Stadium to find out that the Cubs game, of course, was sold out for the night. We were a bit bummed, but we went into a local bar, The Central, had a few cheap beers and caught the game against the Reds, which turned out to be rather uneventful anyway. Wrigleyville is an awesome part of town, with a million young people—and every girl in Chicago was good looking—and a million bars to choose from, and everyone is just out there having a good time routing for their team.
After we had had enough of watching the game on TV, we decided to walk back to our hotel to find out about the comedy group Second City. On our way, we were approached by a guy in a van who was drinking Old Style and playing his guitar. He said, “Guys, you have two options: Give a dollar or take a dollar.” Looking at the little box filled with dollars on the sidewalk, I was intrigued. So I went back and asked him why the two options. His response: “Well, if you needed the dollar, I’d understand and you could take it. But, looking at how you’re dressed, it seems you don’t really need the dollar, so if you took it, you’d be an asshole. But, who am I to judge? I’m just trying to get to a peace rally in Washington, D.C.” We asked this Portland, Oregon native, caught in the middle of the country trying to get across just like we were, to play us some blues and dropped a couple of dollars in his bin. Always support someone going cross country because they will certainly come across some struggles.
Second City, the comedy troupe home to Steve Carell, Stephen Colbert, Fred Willard, Eugene Levy, Bill Murray, Chris Farley and countless others, was hilarious. Once again, we didn’t plan ahead enough and missed their first show at 8, but we were lucky enough to catch the improvisational set at 10 for free, which I’m sure was just as funny. Definitely a must-see in Chicago.
On Thursday, we were on our way to Nebraska bright and early. The road through Illinois we had gotten used to: farmlands, occasional streams and rivers, nothing to really boast of. I do have to say that I-88 W in the Chicago suburbs is one of the worst roads in America – the construction and one lane really inspired some road rage in us. I was taken aback by the graciousness of a gas attendant in Rock Falls, Illinois who gave me a free cup of coffee with my gas that would be taking us through Iowa and into Nebraska.
We eventually hopped on I-80 (yes, the same road in Newark, NJ) and crossed the magnificent Mississippi River, the artery of America. It was a monumental moment on our trip; I felt fully enveloped into the West. The countryside of Iowa was beautiful picturesque farms, scaling along rolling farmhills that were right out of every farm painting you’ve ever seen. Singing “Getting’ Jiggy Wit’ It” and “Against the Wind” on I-80 by myself (my carmates were both dozing off) was complete happiness and carefreedom. We stopped in Cedar Rapids, a small, industrial city, to donate money to the Red Cross. While we were there, it was raining, and I could see the rivers were flooded and close to the bottoms of bridges. They seemed like they could need the money, so it was good to donate.
As I switched to a backseat passenger, I watched hawks soaring in the blue Iowan sky, and I sighed and thought of all that’s surrounding me. In the center of the country, I think of Chicago, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York—times past, East. And Denver, Montana, Wyoming, Arizona, California—times to come, West. It is a glorious feeling of being in the heartland of this country, the roads east and west like the veins in our body pumping blood throughout in order to keep us alive.
Along the farm encrusted roads of Iowa, I was thinking back to a conversation Jeff and I had at lunch in Chicago on Wednesday. He asked me where I get my morals from. An unconventional question, yes, but one that I treasured, especially as I’m reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which is about a cross-country trip in which the narrator is in search of values and morals. I had to answer that I attribute my morals to my entire family, from bottom to top—parents, sister, aunts, uncles, cousins & grandparents. I am extremely proud of my family and the values they’ve helped instill in me. Jeff remarked that this type of family values is rare these days, and he attributed his morals to his father, to whom he speaks very highly. Driving across a country is an excellent way to get to know geography, dialects, architecture, the different characteristics that make a country what it is, but it’s also an excellent way to find out the same characteristics about yourself and the people who travel with you, to find out what exactly makes up you and them.
We crossed over the Missouri River and into Nebraska, greeted by a welcome sign to the City of Omaha, which doesn’t have much of a downtown, pretty much what’s situated on the riverfront only. Our first stop in Nebraska was Sonic, where we had the infamous Sonic Blast. We went to Gorat’s Famous Stakes, where we had our first succulent and world-renowned Omaha Steaks, and they were extremely delicious. I felt a little out of place when there were gentlemen in the bathroom discussing their cattle and the waitress asked if we wanted more “pop.”
We arrived at our destination for the night, the Louisville Lakes State Recreation Area in Louisville, Nebraska. After setting up our tent on camping area 62, we explored the Platte River and the lakes surrounding it. I learned a life lesson here: do not wait for a bathroom at a state park in the middle of Nebraska; GO SOMEWHERE ELSE! Worst experience of the trip: going to the bathroom in the “black hole of death” in a Louisville, NE outhouse. Is that part of the rite of passage?! Despite the outhouses, this area had extremely beautiful scenery that I was actually starting to settle in and really enjoy the Nebraskan ambiance around. We collected wood for a fire, and although it took a few tries to get her going, she sparked and we had a rager right in front of us.
It felt good to put all that effort into building something and see it flourish, and fire looks magnificent when it flourishes, but like all things it must come to an end, and it did die out just about 11 at night. Sitting around our campfire that we built after exploring areas unchartered by us before was a beautiful moment, one of immense happiness (and remember, I am in search of happiness throughout the country on this trip). It was the last taste of happiness that I’d see in Nebraska.
As we settled in to sleep, so did the bugs right along with us. To try and prevent getting eaten alive, I covered myself with my sleeping bag which produced an unfathomable sweat-drenching heat. Finally at about 1, I couldn’t take it anymore and moved myself out to our one save haven, our deliverer of happiness, Rasselas (the car), where I encountered Jeff who had the same idea I did. Not long after, we were joined by Matt who also wanted shelter from the bugs. So it was Matt sprawled in the driver’s seat, Jeff in the passenger’s, and I lying across the back—And this is the same way we are traveling to Denver now. We got a few hours of sleep in eventually, after trying to block out the heat and the incessant freight train passing through at what seemed like half-hour intervals throughout the night.
Overall, I think my image of Nebraska was skewed. The people were generally affable and kind, the land we were on was beautiful, but something had been lingering ever since we crossed the Missouri—a feeling of “just getting out.” This feeling plagued us through Iowa’s long farm stretches, and lingered with us in Nebraska. This wasn’t our destination; we wanted Denver—a big city, with more fast-paced people like us. So no offense to Omaha—you were lovely—but we’re moving on to Denver (and early this morning) and you won’t be seeing me anytime too soon.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Chicago, IL - Night Two
Just a quick hello from Chicago, the first city that I fell in love with on this trip. Last night we went to a great restaurant right next to our hotel called Matisse, which specialized in Sangria. Then we went to the famous Kingston Mines, where we saw some incredible musicians - Joanna Connor was one of the greatest guitarists I've ever seen live. Matt and I stopped at a bar called Durkin's to try the beer that I've heard raved about called Fat Tire, and it was very good.
This morning I ran down by Lake Michigan, dangled my feet off a pier over the water, and truly fell in love with the beauty of this city. Jeff and I went on the architecture river tour this afternoon, where we saw and learned about a lot of the amazing buildings sitting on the Chicago River. It was a beautiful day for a cruise on the river. We all just got back from a great restaurant, Bella Bucino's, where we tried our first authentic deep-dish pizza.
Tonight we're going to go down to classic Wrigley Field and check out a Cubs game. Tomorrow, it's Iowa and Nebraska, where we'll be camping out tomorrow night. Adieu!
This morning I ran down by Lake Michigan, dangled my feet off a pier over the water, and truly fell in love with the beauty of this city. Jeff and I went on the architecture river tour this afternoon, where we saw and learned about a lot of the amazing buildings sitting on the Chicago River. It was a beautiful day for a cruise on the river. We all just got back from a great restaurant, Bella Bucino's, where we tried our first authentic deep-dish pizza.
Tonight we're going to go down to classic Wrigley Field and check out a Cubs game. Tomorrow, it's Iowa and Nebraska, where we'll be camping out tomorrow night. Adieu!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Chicago, IL - Night One
I write tonight from Days Inn Lincoln Park in a beautiful section of Chicago, Illinois, a beautiful city situated on Lake Michigan, the first of the Great Lakes I have ever seen. Tonight we are going to go out on the town to celebrate Jeff's birthday, so I promise some more exciting and rowdy stories tomorrow. I am currently drinking a lovely "urban wheat beer," a very unassuming wheat beer brewed by Goose Island here in Chicago.
Today in Columbus, we explored Ohio State University, a big beautiful campus, and the town that surrounds it. The highlight of Columbus, however, was our visit to the White Castle corporate offices, where I talked to Sandina, who was in charge of the Cravers Hall of Fame. She gave me some advice for getting inducted into this prestigious group. We saw many items at this Hall of Fame and Museum, including an actual burger that Queen Elizabeth gave to the Hall of Fame to be preserved. Of course, after our trip here, we got the crave and had a few burgers of our own. Then we set off to beautiful Chicago.
The way here, however, wasn't as lovely or beautiful. US-33 W in Ohio is incredibly boring country. There was lots of grass, lots of farmland, barely any water. There were no hills or mountains, and every driver was a slow-driver who crawled along the highway. Western Ohio is the "flatlands of the east." We passed through the town of Lakeview, where we could barely see the lake. A water tower and lots of RVs/mobile homes greeted us in Lakeview instead. There were incredibly long country roads bisecting the US highway we were on--a highway with stoplights!
We came to a crossroads at a couple of points. Here is what I noticed on the corners: Dad's Drive-In (a sign read "God Bless America"); Pam's Pantry (sign: "Burger's & Brew's"); An old-style working phone booth across from "Coffee & Carry".
Matt, Jeff, and I discussed the quote "To travel is better than to arrive," which we disagreed with so far. As we got closer to Chicago, traveling along I-90 along the Lake, we were greatly anticipating our arrival, our destination in Chicago, that made the traveling through Ohio and Indiana look miserable.
The sky between Ohio & Indiana today was ominous and foreboding. Everywhere you looked around you was a surrounding gray with streaks of lightning fluttering in the distance. I was intrigued before we were submerged full-force into the deluge. The heavens poured down on us all the way over the Ohio/Indiana border on US-30. Indiana was drenched, soaked farmland from north to south, and east to west all the way to I-469.
Arcola Rest Area in Indiana was the sorriest rest area ever, with one man sitting in a closet-shaped office, watching truckers and a few travelers come in and out of the restroom, the only one for miles, with nothing else notable around. It pretty much summed up our travels through the state.
More from Chicago tomorrow...
Today in Columbus, we explored Ohio State University, a big beautiful campus, and the town that surrounds it. The highlight of Columbus, however, was our visit to the White Castle corporate offices, where I talked to Sandina, who was in charge of the Cravers Hall of Fame. She gave me some advice for getting inducted into this prestigious group. We saw many items at this Hall of Fame and Museum, including an actual burger that Queen Elizabeth gave to the Hall of Fame to be preserved. Of course, after our trip here, we got the crave and had a few burgers of our own. Then we set off to beautiful Chicago.
The way here, however, wasn't as lovely or beautiful. US-33 W in Ohio is incredibly boring country. There was lots of grass, lots of farmland, barely any water. There were no hills or mountains, and every driver was a slow-driver who crawled along the highway. Western Ohio is the "flatlands of the east." We passed through the town of Lakeview, where we could barely see the lake. A water tower and lots of RVs/mobile homes greeted us in Lakeview instead. There were incredibly long country roads bisecting the US highway we were on--a highway with stoplights!
We came to a crossroads at a couple of points. Here is what I noticed on the corners: Dad's Drive-In (a sign read "God Bless America"); Pam's Pantry (sign: "Burger's & Brew's"); An old-style working phone booth across from "Coffee & Carry".
Matt, Jeff, and I discussed the quote "To travel is better than to arrive," which we disagreed with so far. As we got closer to Chicago, traveling along I-90 along the Lake, we were greatly anticipating our arrival, our destination in Chicago, that made the traveling through Ohio and Indiana look miserable.
The sky between Ohio & Indiana today was ominous and foreboding. Everywhere you looked around you was a surrounding gray with streaks of lightning fluttering in the distance. I was intrigued before we were submerged full-force into the deluge. The heavens poured down on us all the way over the Ohio/Indiana border on US-30. Indiana was drenched, soaked farmland from north to south, and east to west all the way to I-469.
Arcola Rest Area in Indiana was the sorriest rest area ever, with one man sitting in a closet-shaped office, watching truckers and a few travelers come in and out of the restroom, the only one for miles, with nothing else notable around. It pretty much summed up our travels through the state.
More from Chicago tomorrow...
Columbus, OH
I am sitting in the wonderful establishment of McDonald's in Columbus, Ohio, right now, just on the outskirts of the Ohio State University campus. The people here are friendly and kind with a shy skittish, giggling-school girl way about them and they seem willing to submit themselves to a "hello" and even a quick conversation.
We arrived in Columbus via Route 78 in Jersey and across Pennsylvania, becoming I-70 in western PA, where we enjoyed a joyous dinner at another Mickey-D's in Washington, Pa late last night. Here are some musings from yesterday, 7/7, straight from the road:
I-95 S in New Jersey
Michael Stipe remarks that leaving New York is never easy. As I am in New Jersey right now, with New York to my left, I can agree with him. Today especially, as I embark on my trip, I am feeling a sense of uneasiness in leaving. This has been an extremely trying weekend and though I am elated to be heading west and moving past this weekend, I feel like I left a piece of me back in Englewood. And as I traverse the swamps in and around Newark, heading west on route 78, I know there is a light shining through the clouds on us for a reason, guiding me on my journey.
Route 78 W - Lebanon, Pennsylvania
Steinbeck wrote about something he saw in every part of the nation--"a burning desire to go, to move, to get under way, anyplace, away from any Here." This feeling of running away from something is tangible right now to me. It shows in every farmhouse, forest, and sad town name ("Krumville, Kutztown") that we pass. There's just a sense of escape that permeates this Pennsylvania countryside and it is plaguing me at the moment. Maybe that's why we're just passing through, heading straight for Ohio.
Western Pennsylvania/West Virginia/Ohio
Finally, as the altitudes increased, the valleys turned into mountains and back into valleys, my desire for this trip and my longing to go west increased as well. The area, driving through the mountains and the fog, as I took the wheel, became a part of me, just as this journey is becoming part of me as well. The tiny strip of I-70 that runs 70 miles per hour through Wheeling, West Virginia, was a beautiful piece of highway that we sailed on through the night. And the welcome sign for Ohio was a welcome relief for us, who have come so far to be here in only one day on the road. I should mention that my dreariness in Lebanon, PA, I'm sure is not reflective of this whole trip, only the start of it. But it kind of plays on the nickname that I gave our car, a Hyundai Sonata, which is "Rasselas." Rasselas was a Prince of Abissinia, written about by Samuel Johnson, who leaves his home and travels his country to seek adventure and the path to happiness. This is a fitting name for our car, our vehicle to discovering adventure and happiness in this grand country of ours.
We arrived in Columbus via Route 78 in Jersey and across Pennsylvania, becoming I-70 in western PA, where we enjoyed a joyous dinner at another Mickey-D's in Washington, Pa late last night. Here are some musings from yesterday, 7/7, straight from the road:
I-95 S in New Jersey
Michael Stipe remarks that leaving New York is never easy. As I am in New Jersey right now, with New York to my left, I can agree with him. Today especially, as I embark on my trip, I am feeling a sense of uneasiness in leaving. This has been an extremely trying weekend and though I am elated to be heading west and moving past this weekend, I feel like I left a piece of me back in Englewood. And as I traverse the swamps in and around Newark, heading west on route 78, I know there is a light shining through the clouds on us for a reason, guiding me on my journey.
Route 78 W - Lebanon, Pennsylvania
Steinbeck wrote about something he saw in every part of the nation--"a burning desire to go, to move, to get under way, anyplace, away from any Here." This feeling of running away from something is tangible right now to me. It shows in every farmhouse, forest, and sad town name ("Krumville, Kutztown") that we pass. There's just a sense of escape that permeates this Pennsylvania countryside and it is plaguing me at the moment. Maybe that's why we're just passing through, heading straight for Ohio.
Western Pennsylvania/West Virginia/Ohio
Finally, as the altitudes increased, the valleys turned into mountains and back into valleys, my desire for this trip and my longing to go west increased as well. The area, driving through the mountains and the fog, as I took the wheel, became a part of me, just as this journey is becoming part of me as well. The tiny strip of I-70 that runs 70 miles per hour through Wheeling, West Virginia, was a beautiful piece of highway that we sailed on through the night. And the welcome sign for Ohio was a welcome relief for us, who have come so far to be here in only one day on the road. I should mention that my dreariness in Lebanon, PA, I'm sure is not reflective of this whole trip, only the start of it. But it kind of plays on the nickname that I gave our car, a Hyundai Sonata, which is "Rasselas." Rasselas was a Prince of Abissinia, written about by Samuel Johnson, who leaves his home and travels his country to seek adventure and the path to happiness. This is a fitting name for our car, our vehicle to discovering adventure and happiness in this grand country of ours.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Ready to Embark
John Steinbeck wrote, "When the virus of restlessness begins to take possession of a wayward man, and the road away from Here seems broad and straight and sweet, the victim must first find in himself a good and sufficient reason for going. This to the practical bum is not difficult. He has a built-in garden of reasons to choose from. Next he must plan his trip in time and space, choose a direction and a destination. And last he must implement the journey. How to go, what to take, how long to stay. This part of the process is invariable and immortal."
This cross-country trip was designed out of a morsel of a concept wherein I wanted to discover the country in which we live. I started thinking about going cross-country, a serious thought that is, while I was in Washington, D.C. and Virginia in April on a school trip. I looked at the beautiful foliage along the highway, and I realized there was so much of this country that I haven't seen. So, an idea was born. This morsel of a concept, as I called it, grew to become this journey that begins next week, in just a few days.
As I have been preparing for this trip, mentally as well as physical preparations, I have concluded that the timing is right. That I need to leave some things behind, and go forward, westward from the "normalcy" of home that I know now. Like Steinbeck writes, I truly feel like a "wayward man" right now. Our trip has already had a minor setback, but the timing is truly right. I need to soldier on and cross paths with as many people in this country as possible, and start my path forward into my life as it's to come. And I want to, or I need to, do this through this trip. My life moving forward will not be the same after this trip. Traveling from the Atlantic to the Pacific on an unconventional path, but along one long constant line that spans an entire continent, is something I need to do, and something that has been 22 years in the making.
Please check the blog as often as you can, as I will be updating as often as I can. Many of our hotels have free wifi.
A quick word about my companions: Matt I have known since high school, and we have been very close friends since then, going to college together and living together for a year. He is the link to my past: high school and college. Jeff represents my current and future state: as a teacher at Sachem. Jeff teaches English with me at Sachem North HS.
Jeff, Matt, and I will be leaving from New Jersey Monday afternoon and driving straight through the Keystone State to Ohio. I appreciate that we are leaving the comforts of the east coast and any states that border the Atlantic. We are effectively leaving our known selves behind us, hopefully discovering a new personality along the road.
John Steinbeck continues, "A trip, a safari, an exploration, is an entity, different from all other journeys. It has personality, temperament, individuality, uniqueness. A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us."
I'm ready to embark and let this trip take me.
This cross-country trip was designed out of a morsel of a concept wherein I wanted to discover the country in which we live. I started thinking about going cross-country, a serious thought that is, while I was in Washington, D.C. and Virginia in April on a school trip. I looked at the beautiful foliage along the highway, and I realized there was so much of this country that I haven't seen. So, an idea was born. This morsel of a concept, as I called it, grew to become this journey that begins next week, in just a few days.
As I have been preparing for this trip, mentally as well as physical preparations, I have concluded that the timing is right. That I need to leave some things behind, and go forward, westward from the "normalcy" of home that I know now. Like Steinbeck writes, I truly feel like a "wayward man" right now. Our trip has already had a minor setback, but the timing is truly right. I need to soldier on and cross paths with as many people in this country as possible, and start my path forward into my life as it's to come. And I want to, or I need to, do this through this trip. My life moving forward will not be the same after this trip. Traveling from the Atlantic to the Pacific on an unconventional path, but along one long constant line that spans an entire continent, is something I need to do, and something that has been 22 years in the making.
Please check the blog as often as you can, as I will be updating as often as I can. Many of our hotels have free wifi.
A quick word about my companions: Matt I have known since high school, and we have been very close friends since then, going to college together and living together for a year. He is the link to my past: high school and college. Jeff represents my current and future state: as a teacher at Sachem. Jeff teaches English with me at Sachem North HS.
Jeff, Matt, and I will be leaving from New Jersey Monday afternoon and driving straight through the Keystone State to Ohio. I appreciate that we are leaving the comforts of the east coast and any states that border the Atlantic. We are effectively leaving our known selves behind us, hopefully discovering a new personality along the road.
John Steinbeck continues, "A trip, a safari, an exploration, is an entity, different from all other journeys. It has personality, temperament, individuality, uniqueness. A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us."
I'm ready to embark and let this trip take me.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Salinas, CA
So I just found out that the National Steinbeck Center is in Salinas, CA, only 17 miles off of Route 1 (PCH), which we will be driving on in between Los Angeles and San Francisco. Totally going to be a sappy English teacher and have to stop here.
http://www.steinbeck.org/MainFrame.html
http://www.steinbeck.org/MainFrame.html
Monday, May 5, 2008
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