Homeward Bound

The last full day of driving felt like the longest. Maybe it was my fatigue or that fact that Tennessee is an inexhaustible state, but I began to feel as if I was crawling to the finish line. Not wanting to disappoint Sam and Crystal who were waiting for the car on the other end, I decided that bailing out now was not an option, nor was sleeping in a ditch on the side of the road. Onwards and upwards!!

I took a quick little nap in the only room left in a Comfort Inn in southern Virginia. Fourth of July weekend is when all of the eccentrics come out to reenact the Civil War battles. I sat next to a man with a bayonnet at breakfast; I considered asking him to pass me a roll, just to see whether he would spear it.

Finally I began to see signs for Washington, D.C. Sam had given me directions to where he and Crystal were staying and I quickly found the place. The only problem was that when the car had been given to me, it was black and I could see my reflection in the paint job; now it was a dull green-gray. After a trip across the country that went flawlessly, it took me two hours to find a working car wash. Everywhere I went was either broken or required me to soak myself along with the car. By the time I was finished with this task, I had six missed calls from Sam whom I had told "See you in 10 minutes" about 120 minutes ago. All's well that ends well. The car was delivered unscratched, unscathed (and very clean!) to my lovely cousins, and I was the proud victor of a cross country road trip.

Graceland and the Bible Belt

There is such a thing as a Bible Belt and I am here. If you go to any trucking stop, alongside the chips and cigs you can also pay to have your soul saved in six simple steps. I was nauseated, but as my father reminded me later, we wouldn't have gotten all that great music from this area if it weren't for the strong religious and gospel traditions.

Loving Memphis tonight. I went to a place for dinner down an ally called Rendezvous which is world famous for their coal cooked pork ribs. I'm mostly vegetarian at this point, but understood that a visit to Memphis would be cut short without some meat in my face. I sat next to a chatty drunk named Paul who bought my dinner (perhaps he will regret that tomorrow?!). He also bought the special homemade sauce that Dad had requested--nothing like bringing home souvenirs paid for by people who have no relation to you.

Visited the MLK assassination site, Beale Street, listened to a rock'n roll rockout in the street, and made a trip down to the Mississippi River where I could see the bridge. If there's any question of getting into the Memphis mood, listen to this fantastic Chuck Berry classic!!

Ragin Cajun

As I was conceiving of this cross country road trip, I had many a dreamy notion of a quarter century birthday party in the city of soul, New Orleans. It became an obsessive focal point as I planned hours upon hours of driving to coincide with an arrival on my birthday eve. My eyes were blood shot from the long haul, but I arrived in time and feel that it was entirely worth it to be here for my happy birthday.

My big birthday present from Mom and Dad was a two night stay at a rock star hotel, the Monteleone, in the French Quarter. This apparently was a big hangout for Granddad back in the day, and when Doug finished at Tulane, the whole family stayed here for graduation weekend. It was fun to feel the old family haunts and happy spirits in this place. When I arrived on Monday night, there was a dish of chocolate covered strawberries waiting for me from my dear roomie, Soph, and I felt like a princess in this most elegant room, all to myself!

My birthday was one of the rainiest in recent memory, but I made the very most of it by eating my way through every little cafe and restaurant in the French Quarter. The morning was spent dodging the downpours, tucking under awnings until the rain let up, then skirting to the next little place where I would try the house special. Breakfast was at Cafe du Monde, famous for their powdered sugar covered beignets and chicory coffee. I sat there for a while listening to a brass band outside play. There is no wonder that this town is known for its music: on every street corner there are world class musicians sharing their tunes.

For lunch, I had been tipped off to a great little place off the beaten track called Cake Cafe. The name itself seemed enough of a reason for me to take my birthday self way down Chartres street, a long but worthwhile trek. On these less traveled side streets you can see lingering signs of Katrina: boarded houses, overgrown and abandoned lots. I know that what I saw were not even the hardest areas hit. There were also indications of the Gulf oil spill, angry signs in peoples' windows, cars that had been made into mobile billboards of disgust. At one point, finding it too rainy to continue walking, I waited at a bus stop with an older man. We shared my umbrella and he told me stories about pre and post Katrina, mostly how much he loves this city, even after all that it's been through.

As the afternoon wound down, I was hit with the melancholy inevitability of a birthday in a strange town, no friends around to celebrate. The blues didn't last for long. As I was contemplating where to take myself to dinner, I began chatting with a local guy outside Irving Mayfield's jazz play house (Bourbon Street). He directed me to a restaurant right across the street, the Oceana Grill, as a place to get some good Cajun cooking. "In fact," he said, "I'll join you!!" In no less than 5 minutes, Kenneth Dale and I were good friends. The strangest thing is that he's celebrating his 41st birthday today, so we are birthday neighbors. With Ken's guidance, I had a tasty Cajun red-fish dish with a couple of house cocktail concoctions. For dessert, the whole place sang up quite a racket, wishing us two birthday fools a special day with a wildly decadent chocolate cake.
Ken left me back off at Irvin Mayfield's and I listened to some jazz before it was time to head off to bed. A very happy birthday to remember. And now it's off to Tennessee!!

New Orleans, Please and Thank you!

Thanks for the birthday wishes, all! It has been a wet one. Never been caught in such a rain storm. But having a fun time, nonetheless.

The best pick up line of my life occurred while I was sloshing through the rain to get some breakfast. A man driving in an airport shuttle van parked up beside me and began calling "Ma'am. Excuse me Ma'am" [insert incredibly strong Southern Accent Here]. I looked up and he said, "Ma'am, you gotta be careful. You know suga melts in the rain!"

I laughed (out loud).

More to come...

Notes on roadkill

I've seen a fair amount of road kill on my trip. As I was driving into Louisiana, there was a dead alligator on the side of the road. I consulted my Baton Rougonian pal, Ben Bowers, who says that this is not normal. Too bad, totally wish it was.

Armadillios, possums, anything that is stereotypcial to a state, I have seen it.

New Mex into Tex

New Mexico is an incredible state with much more to see than my time allowed. Bob, my Host with the Most, helped me maximize the minimal time I did have by generously bringing me into Santa Fe from Albuquerque on Saturday morning. I had been there once before as a 10-year old when we came for a family friend's wedding. It is a little city with a huge art scene best characterized by its red adobe buildings. A uniquely beautiful place with a strong Native American presence. We had just enough time to wander the side streets, hit up a fajita cart, and check out one of the incredible outdoor marketplaces selling dream catchers and turquoise jewelry. Soon we were back in the car, making detours into little towns along the road including Cerillos and Madrid.

I was determined to make a decent start on my trek into Texas and left Bob and Sylvia in a bit of a rush on Saturday afternoon when we returned from Santa Fe. Throwing kisses into the air and waving goodbye from the car, I raced against time to make it to Fort Stockton, Texas, before it got too dark and I risked falling asleep behind the wheel. I took Rt 285 out of New Mexico which brought me right through Roswell, NM, the UFO capital of the United States. The ride was out of this world. All I can say for sure is that there were a myriad of sorry looking souls along the way and I tried not to linger too long filling up the tank. Onwards through Carlsbad and then hopping over the border into Texas, I cut across some very vast and open territories. It got dark fast, but I could still see the oil rigs moving up and down in the dusk.
Not a whole lot going on in Fort Stockton, Texas, but it was a nice place to lay my head for the night. Sunday was a big driving day. My whole goal was to make it to Victoria, Texas and my mom's dear friend, Janet Kutchka, in time for dinner. More vast territory and the incredible sight of wind farms. I arrived in Victoria a very weary but keyed up traveler. The heat was oppressive and I was google-eyed from staring at the road all day, but Janet and her husband Ray made me feel at home and I quickly relaxed into their southern hospitality. I got a tour of town, met Janet's mother, and helped prepare a delicious dinner. Janet belongs to a CSA (community supported agriculture program), so she had boxes of vegetables for us to work through. A very bright spot on my long journey across the country.

New May-Hico!

The road from Flagstaff, AZ to Albuquerque, NM is a straight shot through some of the quietest, most serene South Western territory. Beautiful, but apparently deadly. I have been living in "obsessive gas fill-up" mode, where every time I see a gas station, I fill the tank. Numerous friends and relatives have told me stories about "That time we were driving on fumes and didn't have a gas station for 75 more miles, so we had to push the car." Broken down in the middle of the desert with no upper body strength is not a place I want to find myself, so I have been quite careful.

When I was in middle school we had a geology unit on the Meteor Crater which, for some reason, really touched me. Since then, I have longed for the day when I could see it. Today was that day. The crater is about 40 miles from Flagstaff and is the site of a major meteor crash 50,000 years ago. Good thing we bypassed that catastrophic event. There is a long winding road that leads to this incredible scene near Winslow, Arizona. The Park Services have looked upon this crater as an incredible money-making opportunity. I got to pay $15 to see a hole in the ground! A very cool hole in the ground, nonetheless. The floor of the crater is large enough for 20 football fields and the surrounding walls could hold 2 million watching fans. The size was breathtaking.

After my flirtation with scenes of the future Apocalypse--afterall, claim the crater people, this could happen again some day!--I got back in the car and started heading east to Albuquerque. I was taken by complete surprise by a tremendous rain storm. I thought I was experiencing my own end-of-world experience; didn't realize it could rain that hard in the desert. I kept my wits about me and made it into New Mexico without a scratch. In Albuquerque, I have been welcomed into the home of Sylvia Hanna, a friend of a friend's friend. Sylvia and her friend, Bob, have been giving me the royal treatment and are my unofficial tour guides while I'm here!