July 2009
37 posts
The end is not as important as the beginning
The end.
Well, the end is not as important as the beginning. I know that now.
So how did it end?
It honestly ended in an unremarkable blur. We drove and drove with sleep-bogged minds that had been churning since our New Orleans cots, 1313 miles previous. Scattered remnants of New Mexico’s nighttime sounds and smells attempted to reach my brain, but mostly all I could absorb was another black...
Infinite sky, finite journey
The end was zooming towards us, laying only hours away. The road is blackened all but a few feet in front of the headlights as the seemingly infinite Texas sky engulfs the travelers in the tiny tired van below. I couldn’t see it yet. but the end was zooming closer and closer.
Time seemed to hang in the starlit road, as hours were gained and lost and paused as we zoomed though time zones,...
Unexpected magic
Waking up with the New Orleans jazz still buzzing in my ear, I hobbled down the creaky wooden stairs to say goodbye to the India House and the city. The day was already hot and humid and I knew it would only get worse as we piled in the van for the penultimate stop in Austin, Texas.
I expected nothing from the Texas town, and when we arrived dripping and disgusting 13 hours later, I found my...
Searching for the spirit of New Orleans
New Orleans was the first town where our couch surfing plans fell through, and we pulled into the India House international hostel instead. Even though we’d set out to only stay places for free, it turned out to be a good, safe decision that allowed us to have the freedom to do whatever we wanted without worrying about a host.
The India House hostel was adorable and I kind of wanted to stay...
Existential Highway
Passing through the Florida swamps after staying the night in Tallahasse, I fell into the sweat-soaked Zen mode of the road. I’ve kept this blog pretty impersonal, but as I drove I realized there are several stories to tell here beyond my daily wanderings. This blog is also about what it is like to be young and lost in America - right now - in this digital, economic meltdown, post-9/11, Obama-era,...
Passing through
Using the GPS as our guide, once again we hit the road again, and headed West for the first time. With a car stuffed full of cookies from Dan’s grandmother, we rolled out of North Carolina headed for Tallahassee, Florida. During our day of recuperation we replaced a few things that were lost or broken when the van was vandalized. I’ve become addicted to the cigarette lighter power adaptor in the...
“ “Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end. And the...”
– “Homeward Bound” by Marta Keen
The "Viral Van" rides the "bummer bus"
Well, I’ve made it down to North Carolina to meet up with Dan and resume the road trip. Since he had the van, and it would have been a really long walk, I took a Greyhound bus for a whopping 15 hours to get here. For a seasoned traveler like myself, 15 hours would normally be cake, but compared to the freedom and connectivity of the Viral Van, the antiquated bus was tedious and grueling.
Just...
“Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me”
The other people on the boat couldn’t see him as we pulled into the dock. Their cameras were clicking capturing broad smiles splashed across lips blabbing in a myriad of languages. They had their backs turned to the statue, grinning alongside her somber face. Nobody but me saw the blue sailor’s uniform silhouetted against the grey sky as Second Class Gunner’s Mate Roger Calamaio climbed on top of...
"New York can be magical like that"
The wonderful thing about this road trip is that you never really know where you’re going to end up. For example, today I was not planning on lying in the dirt in Central Park next to an old couple making out on a blanket and listening to Mozart’s Symphony No. 41, but I did.
Now that I’m off on my own, I spent the day wandering around New York City without really much of a plan. I decided to make...
Stealing people
I was sitting at a bar stool looking out a café window into a hectic street in the heart of artsy Williamsburg when a women in sunglasses stopped and looked at me.
Hunger had driven me out of my first wifi coffee shop in search of a new place to chill and chow. My Blackberry had blindly led me 20 minutes away to a supposedly tech-friendly café, but upon arrival I discovered I was horribly misled...
Sanctuary
I think I’ve proved myself to be a tough cookie who has survived the hectic travel schedule with gusto, but today was much-needed day of recharging my batteries. I thrive on adventure, but I am also homebody by nature and I sometimes need personal space and time to chill out or I start not feeling well. At least it doesn’t take too much to make me happy. A sense of “home” can be created with a...
Well, I’m here. Now what?
It is time to see if my idealistic ideas of New York can match up to the reality of it. I’ve worked myself up so much over wanting to live the NY dream, and now that I’m here I don’t even know where to start. I am just another person in millions chasing the dream. Another little nobody looking for a job. Just a crestfallen college grad searching for a place to belong and a few bucks to survive....
Another lost girl
On the G train back home, a girl with a backpack sat down next to me.
Subway Girl: What time is it?
Me: Eight fifty
Subway Girl: You were a teenager once right?
Me: Yes
Subway Girl: How old are you when you're grown up?
I'd been told to keep to myself on the subway and mind my own business. I was surprised when she started to talk to me.
Me: Uhh, well I think that depends. How old are you?
Subway Girl: 18. My mom doesn't think I'm grown up. She yells at me.
Me: Have you tried talking to her about it?
Subway Girl: I haven't been home in 3 days. I don't know what to do.
Me: Well don't you think she's worried about you?
Subway Girl: I've been staying with friends. She's going to yell at me. I can't go home. I'm scared. What do you think I should do?
The train slowed down to a stop. My stop. I didn't know what to do. I knew I had to get off the train but I felt that the girl was being sincere in needing somebody to talk to and I didn't want to run out on her.
Me: I'm really sorry, but this is my stop. I have to get off or I'm going to get lost.
To my surprise she got off too, even though I knew this wasn't her stop.
Subway Girl: So, you think I should go home then? My mom is going to yell at me. I'm scared.
Me: Well if she is your mother she will understand. Talk to her. It is the only way to make it right. You can't just live out here on your own. You always need to be able to go home.
Subway Girl: Ok. Ok so you think I should go home. Ok.
For a second I thought she was going to follow me, but she turned the other way and left. I really hope she was going home.
A perfect song for the Chicago-New York journey →
Chicago to New York, and all the tollbooths in...
Putting rural America behind us, the last two days have been spent seeing the big cities. We rolled into Chicago on the morning of July 7th and swiftly learned that it is not a good place to take your car. Traffic laws seemed to not really matter for cars (or pedestrians) and the dizzying blur of so many busy people boldly charging every which way made things utterly exhausting. The printed map of...
Wanderlust
Today we drove though waiving grasslands and quaint farm houses in Wisconsin to visit some more of Dan’s friends. It was laughably short drive compared to what we’ve been used to. I think I am starting to get the wanderlust, because I actually feel better moving then staying in one place.
I’ve found that like the Midwest a lot more then I thought I would - or I say that now with it being 80...
Friends, strangers, and fireworks
After the vagabond existence we’ve been living the past few days, having a few days with old friends in the Midwest is refreshing. On a cloudy 4th of July afternoon, the Minneapolis crew headed down to the Walker Art Center and Sculpture Gardens, home of the famous “Spoonbridge and Cherry” fountain sculpture. There was a little Americana festival going on, and we listed to a female folk artist...
The long haul
The last 36 hours have been a blur. Our friends in Minneapolis welcomed us with open arms at 6:00 am, a full 12 hours earlier then we told them we’d be arriving. We originally planned to stay another night in San Diego, but as we looked eastward over the desert and mountains that lay between us and 4th of July fireworks in Minnesota, the best thing to do seemed to be to keep moving.
We bustled...
Blogosphere meets sphere
I awoke on a recliner located a few blocks from the ocean. After a day of no internet access, I trekked over the Purple Café in San Diego this morning fully intent on plugging in, logging on, and jumping into this blog to tell the world about my adventures. I eagerly flipped open the laptop when I noticed a man standing near my table with a flute. He began to play “Nature boy” by Nat King Cole and...
Manifest Destiny
Day one.
That is a statement packed with so many expectations, fears. and the simultaneous thrill and trepidation of so many unknown days to come. Day one to day thirty. Coast to coast and back. That is the plan, man, for me and Van Dan. Manifest destiny.
This morning I woke up in my mom’s house in phoenix surrounded by everything comfortable safe and, quite frankly, boring as hell. Six hours and...
