Day two of shared driving. Seriously, this makes such a huge difference; I didn't end each day feeling like I needed to sleep for 24 hours, and get myself a whole new knee to replace the one in my right leg that had seized up. And that's just from driving an automatic!
We drove into downtown Santa Fe for a couple of hours before heading out, because it's one of my mom's favourite cities. It is very beautiful; almost everything is adobe buildings, and not much over 3 floors. And yet the city stretches out over quite a wide area, and has a big freeway system, so it does *feel* like a city; just a...short, quaint one. :)
We headed out from Santa Fe through to Arizona, apparently following much of the old Route 66 highway. We had almost made it out of the state when the first car-related trouble of the trip hit: a rock bounced up off the highway and crashed into my windshield, making a circular mark in the lower middle part of the windshield.
As a side note, we'd driven over some gravel road the day before (because there was construction work; I'm not taking my poor little Echo off-roading, don't worry!), and my mom had immediately leaned forward and started pushing on the windshield. Apparently she'd read somewhere that this can prevent cracks if rocks do actually bounce up and hit the windshield. I'm not sure of the science of of this, but the information is now out there for you. Use it wisely. I will warn you, however, of one thing that this method *does* result in: fingerprints on the inside of your windshield.
Anyway, the rock hit us just outside of Gallup, NM, so we went into town to get some coffee (we're like the English that way, only on crack: espresso instead of tea.) We find a coffee place, park the car, get out, and realise that there is a glass place right across the street from the coffee place. So I pop on over, and they tell me they can do the quick fix thing (which my mom - who knew she was such an expert in autombile glass??? - describes as squirting some gel in and making the mark go away) in 15-20 minutes for $25. Awesome! So we wait.
Turns out there are *2* rock holes on the windshield; we have no idea when the first happend, as it's so low and small we didn't even notice it. So it takes a little longer and we pay a little (a very little) more. The holes didn't quite disappear, but they also weren't spreading, so we were happy enough and went on our merry way.
We drove mostly interstates, in the interests of time (we wanted to get to the Grand Canyon in time to put up the tent before it got dark), so there wasn't much to see. We stopped in Flagstaff for dinner, and may I just report that the staff at the Flagstaff Visitor's Centre were among the least friendly I've run into during this whole trip? On the other hand, Flagstaff has some good-looking restaurants, and the one we ate at had some delicious vegetarian fare. I knew nothing about Flagstaff, so this was a pleasant surprise!
Then we high-tailed it up to the Grand Canyon, because there was a break in the clouds and we were hoping to get the tent up before it started raining again. There was virtually no traffic on the two-lane highway we took most of the way, which was a bit unnerving, *especially* since there were no signs to reassure us that we were, in fact, taking the highway to the Grand Canyon! However, there were various "adopt a highway" signs with the names of local businesses, and we reasoned that those would only be there if this was a regularly-travelled highway, so all was well.
We made it to the Grand Canyon National Park, found our campsite, put up the tent, and hightailed it out to the Canyon to catch as much as we could before the light faded.
Wow.
I was a little worried that it had been built up so much that it couldn't live up to expectations, but it did. It's difficult to describe in words - or even to capture in film - how amazingly gorgeous it is. It's huge, with amazing colours and rock formations. Also, however, full of tourists. Many of whom are telling ecach other entertaing "facts" about the Grand Canyon, so that was kind of amusing. :)
Then we got back into the tent and went to sleep as early as possible, with our alarms set for 5 a.m. so we could get up and watch the sunrise.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Day 24: Austin to Santa Fe, NM
Mom and I left really early today, because google maps told us this was going to be a 14 hour driving day. And it kinda felt like that, what with the 5 hours of driving just to get out of TEXAS (remind me never to drive across Alaska which, if I hear tell correctly, is the only state larger than Texas.) (Although, believe me, I did not mention that while I was *in* Texas...:P)
By the way, nowhere in Texas did it actually look like the Texas I expected, and we drove clean across the state. It was all sort of much more green than I expected, and we never ran into any kind of oil fields. Perhaps they are farther north? Or farther southeast than we went?
We stopped in Roswell - we HAD to - and looked for food. We got a little sidetracked by the UFO Museum and Research Centre, which was EXTREMELY interesting. In a can't-look-away-from-the-traffic-accident kind of way...incidentally, a few days later, when Mom and I were at a hotel with TVs in the room, we saw a special on how many scientists believe that memories of alien abduction are, in fact, caused by sleep paralysis. Interesting. As my mom points out, however, it doesn't explain those troubling crop circles...
Other than the many UFO-related businesses, Roswell is a bit of a sad, dead town; a theme we saw repeated all across New Mexico. It's a beautiful place, but I'm guessing there's not a lot going on with the economy there. Very sad.
We made it to New Mexico in plenty of time, after less than 12 hours of driving - heck, the swimming pool at the Motel 6 was still open when we got there! (But, uh, full of screaming children, so we didn't go in.) Unfortunately, we learned a hard lesson upon our arrival there: when Motel 6's advertise that there are internet dataports in each room, what they *actually* mean is that you can unplug the cord from the phone, plug it into your computer, and dial up your own internet service. Um, okay. Then what you really have in the room is a "phone", right? Stop with the false advertising!!!
So, night #1 of no internet access for us. Sigh.
By the way, nowhere in Texas did it actually look like the Texas I expected, and we drove clean across the state. It was all sort of much more green than I expected, and we never ran into any kind of oil fields. Perhaps they are farther north? Or farther southeast than we went?
We stopped in Roswell - we HAD to - and looked for food. We got a little sidetracked by the UFO Museum and Research Centre, which was EXTREMELY interesting. In a can't-look-away-from-the-traffic-accident kind of way...incidentally, a few days later, when Mom and I were at a hotel with TVs in the room, we saw a special on how many scientists believe that memories of alien abduction are, in fact, caused by sleep paralysis. Interesting. As my mom points out, however, it doesn't explain those troubling crop circles...
Other than the many UFO-related businesses, Roswell is a bit of a sad, dead town; a theme we saw repeated all across New Mexico. It's a beautiful place, but I'm guessing there's not a lot going on with the economy there. Very sad.
We made it to New Mexico in plenty of time, after less than 12 hours of driving - heck, the swimming pool at the Motel 6 was still open when we got there! (But, uh, full of screaming children, so we didn't go in.) Unfortunately, we learned a hard lesson upon our arrival there: when Motel 6's advertise that there are internet dataports in each room, what they *actually* mean is that you can unplug the cord from the phone, plug it into your computer, and dial up your own internet service. Um, okay. Then what you really have in the room is a "phone", right? Stop with the false advertising!!!
So, night #1 of no internet access for us. Sigh.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Day 23: Yep, still here in Austin
Aaaaand this morning? I finished the book. Followed by a viewing of Hairspray with my mom, and a shopping trip at Whole Foods for tomorrow’s driving. Then I did some laundry, Mom watched some bad t.v. (a Lifetime movie starring Kellie Martin? Crazy!) Could be anywhere, right? Ah, well. Every road trip needs to include some time for sleeping and catching up on stuff…and re-packing the car.
Day 22: Still Austin
Today, for the first time in the road trip, it rained cats and dogs. I mean, it’s rained before, but only when I was driving (especially at night); it’s never actually rained on a day when we wanted to go walking around. So Anja clearly picked the right time to leave. Or Mom brought her Seattle weather with her. Whichever.
Mom and I had to walk down to a big Austin book store where I had bought a ticket to the Harry Potter book launching that evening. I am actually not a huge Harry Potter fan, despite what impression I may be giving you, what with the movies and the books. On the other hand, I have read all of the other six books, and I really didn’t want to be spoiled for the last book. And I have no doubt people will be running around trying to spoil the book. Plus, a girl I know in Austin was going by herself, so I figured I could go with her.
Anyways, unnecessarily defensive overexplanations aside, Mom and I had to wander down to the bookstore, so we essentially walked through the same areas Anja and I had seen the day before. We got the tickets, wandered the bookstore, then stopped in to the Whole Foods across the street. Where they had a delicious salad bar!! And calzones! Mmmmmm!
We wandered back to the motel, where Mom had a nap and I wrote more postcards, and then went out again to meet up with some imaginary friends for dinner. Well, real friends, that I had only known online up to that point. They were just as great as I had anticipated, plus I had draught Guinness! Though the waiter made fun of my request for a pint. Whatever.
After dinner? Harry Potter madness at the bookstore. There were, I swear, more than 1000 people in the parking lot of the bookstore, many in costume. Stalls were set up, there was a band playing…it was crazy. They apparently gave out 1500 vouchers for books, but it looked like some people had doubles. I had #606, and I had the book by about 12:30 a.m., so at least they were moving it quick!
Then we came home, and I read the book. Not *all* night, but…uh…longer than I had intended. But I did stop and sleep, I swear!
Mom and I had to walk down to a big Austin book store where I had bought a ticket to the Harry Potter book launching that evening. I am actually not a huge Harry Potter fan, despite what impression I may be giving you, what with the movies and the books. On the other hand, I have read all of the other six books, and I really didn’t want to be spoiled for the last book. And I have no doubt people will be running around trying to spoil the book. Plus, a girl I know in Austin was going by herself, so I figured I could go with her.
Anyways, unnecessarily defensive overexplanations aside, Mom and I had to wander down to the bookstore, so we essentially walked through the same areas Anja and I had seen the day before. We got the tickets, wandered the bookstore, then stopped in to the Whole Foods across the street. Where they had a delicious salad bar!! And calzones! Mmmmmm!
We wandered back to the motel, where Mom had a nap and I wrote more postcards, and then went out again to meet up with some imaginary friends for dinner. Well, real friends, that I had only known online up to that point. They were just as great as I had anticipated, plus I had draught Guinness! Though the waiter made fun of my request for a pint. Whatever.
After dinner? Harry Potter madness at the bookstore. There were, I swear, more than 1000 people in the parking lot of the bookstore, many in costume. Stalls were set up, there was a band playing…it was crazy. They apparently gave out 1500 vouchers for books, but it looked like some people had doubles. I had #606, and I had the book by about 12:30 a.m., so at least they were moving it quick!
Then we came home, and I read the book. Not *all* night, but…uh…longer than I had intended. But I did stop and sleep, I swear!
Day 21: Goodbye Anja, Hello Mom!
Today was Anja’s last day of road-tripping. Not that I wanted her to go home, but she apparently couldn’t take any more time off. In all honesty, there’s no real way both she and Mom would fit in the car with all my crap…
We wandered around downtown Austin for a bit, had a delicious egg/tortilla/black bean/salsa breakfast, shopped for souvenirs, and mailed about 100 postcards at the post office. In downtown Austin, by the way, there is a mailbox painted up like R2 D2. Presumably to go with the USPS’ Star Wars stamps. Whatever, it’s cute!
We had ice cream for lunch at Amy’s Ice Cream. I love vacation.
Then Anja tried desperately to pack all of her things into her backpack for the trip home. She brought out 6 books that she had intended to leave with me, and thought she’d go back with a light backpack; instead, she had a huuuuuge plastic bag filled with carry-on souvenirs, and actually ended up leaving some of her toiletries with me. Heh. Who can resist Elvis and folk art?
I drove Anja out to the airport, came back and tidied up the hotel room a bit, napped a bit, ate some dinner, then drove back out to the airport to pick up my mom. When I went out the second time, I swear I followed the same route I took the first time, to the point of pulling into the parking garage, but I turned left and parked in the third row instead of turning right and parking in the second row. Yet, somehow, when I dropped Anja off we were on the first level of the parking garage, and when I picked up Mom I was parked on the second level of the parking garage.
I can’t even begin to explain how this happened. I thought I was going crazy for a second. Does the Austin airport short-term parking garage have a day set-up and a night set-up?
We wandered around downtown Austin for a bit, had a delicious egg/tortilla/black bean/salsa breakfast, shopped for souvenirs, and mailed about 100 postcards at the post office. In downtown Austin, by the way, there is a mailbox painted up like R2 D2. Presumably to go with the USPS’ Star Wars stamps. Whatever, it’s cute!
We had ice cream for lunch at Amy’s Ice Cream. I love vacation.
Then Anja tried desperately to pack all of her things into her backpack for the trip home. She brought out 6 books that she had intended to leave with me, and thought she’d go back with a light backpack; instead, she had a huuuuuge plastic bag filled with carry-on souvenirs, and actually ended up leaving some of her toiletries with me. Heh. Who can resist Elvis and folk art?
I drove Anja out to the airport, came back and tidied up the hotel room a bit, napped a bit, ate some dinner, then drove back out to the airport to pick up my mom. When I went out the second time, I swear I followed the same route I took the first time, to the point of pulling into the parking garage, but I turned left and parked in the third row instead of turning right and parking in the second row. Yet, somehow, when I dropped Anja off we were on the first level of the parking garage, and when I picked up Mom I was parked on the second level of the parking garage.
I can’t even begin to explain how this happened. I thought I was going crazy for a second. Does the Austin airport short-term parking garage have a day set-up and a night set-up?
Day 20: Memphis to Austin, TX: it’s a 4-state tour.
This was our looooooongest driving day yet. We left our hotel at 7:30 a.m., and rolled in to Austin at about 11:45 p.m.
Did I mention that Anja doesn’t drive? ‘Cause she doesn’t. Those gazillions of hours of driving? All me, baby.
We did stop a few times. We had wanted to drive down the coast of the Mississippi River for a while in the morning, and couldn’t find a highway that actually gave any kind of view of the River. We did find a visitor information centre, though, so we stopped to ask them. They gave us directions, and then got very excited because I’m Canadian – apparently, Mississippi is doing some kind of survey of Canadian visitors, to find out how and why they’re coming to Mississippi (I’m assuming this is because they want more Canadians to come and spend tourist dollars, and not because they’re trying to figure out how to stem the tide of invading Canadians or anything…) and I was the first Canadian she’d seen since the survey came out. I agreed to fill out the survey form, and she told me that it was available in two languages: French, or Spanish.
Uh, Spanish? Ooookay…
Luckily, my French is good enough to say I came to Mississippi par voiture, and stayed there for zero jours, and spent moins de cent dollars. And one of the questions was actually in English. So weird. Mississippi needs editors, methinks.
We also stopped in a little town in Louisiana to see the Bonnie and Clyde Ambush Museum. It’s a funny little museum, and a bit gruesome, but very detailed. And the man who runs in – Linton Hinton! – is the son of one of the police officers who ambushed Bonnie and Clyde! He is full of stories, but his desire to tell us stories conflicted slightly with my intense desire to make it to Austin before I fell asleep at the wheel. I think we left a little to fast for him, but an HOUR was more than the time I had meant to allot to him in the first place!
We routed through Waco, because I had hoped to see the town and maybe any memorial marker they might have, but it was about 10 p.m. and there was no way we were stopping. Interestingly, the highway from Waco to Austin – about an hour and a half? – is essentially one loooooong urban sprawl. It was unexpected for me, because I didn’t think Austin was that big. Urban sprawl is also not what I think of when I think of Texas – unless I’m thinking of Dallas, I guess, but that’s entirely Larry Hagman’s fault
We checked in to the Austin Motel, and, as usual, collapsed into stupephoria.
Did I mention that Anja doesn’t drive? ‘Cause she doesn’t. Those gazillions of hours of driving? All me, baby.
We did stop a few times. We had wanted to drive down the coast of the Mississippi River for a while in the morning, and couldn’t find a highway that actually gave any kind of view of the River. We did find a visitor information centre, though, so we stopped to ask them. They gave us directions, and then got very excited because I’m Canadian – apparently, Mississippi is doing some kind of survey of Canadian visitors, to find out how and why they’re coming to Mississippi (I’m assuming this is because they want more Canadians to come and spend tourist dollars, and not because they’re trying to figure out how to stem the tide of invading Canadians or anything…) and I was the first Canadian she’d seen since the survey came out. I agreed to fill out the survey form, and she told me that it was available in two languages: French, or Spanish.
Uh, Spanish? Ooookay…
Luckily, my French is good enough to say I came to Mississippi par voiture, and stayed there for zero jours, and spent moins de cent dollars. And one of the questions was actually in English. So weird. Mississippi needs editors, methinks.
We also stopped in a little town in Louisiana to see the Bonnie and Clyde Ambush Museum. It’s a funny little museum, and a bit gruesome, but very detailed. And the man who runs in – Linton Hinton! – is the son of one of the police officers who ambushed Bonnie and Clyde! He is full of stories, but his desire to tell us stories conflicted slightly with my intense desire to make it to Austin before I fell asleep at the wheel. I think we left a little to fast for him, but an HOUR was more than the time I had meant to allot to him in the first place!
We routed through Waco, because I had hoped to see the town and maybe any memorial marker they might have, but it was about 10 p.m. and there was no way we were stopping. Interestingly, the highway from Waco to Austin – about an hour and a half? – is essentially one loooooong urban sprawl. It was unexpected for me, because I didn’t think Austin was that big. Urban sprawl is also not what I think of when I think of Texas – unless I’m thinking of Dallas, I guess, but that’s entirely Larry Hagman’s fault
We checked in to the Austin Motel, and, as usual, collapsed into stupephoria.
Day 19: The King has Left the Building. And So Did We…Eventually.
We woke up and “enjoyed” the free breakfast provided by the hotel. On the plus side, they had one of those conveyer toasters, so you didn’t have to wait for everyone in line in front of you to toast (or, in my case, double toast – who are all these crazy people who just want their bagels warmed up a little???) before you could start. On the minus side, bad coffee. Baaaaaaaaaaad coffee. Ugh.
Then, we embarked upon the 3 hours extravaganza that was our visit to the Graceland complex. This was the entire reason we went to Memphis which, as you may have noticed if you ever looked at a map, is a bit out of the way for a trip from Florida to Texas…Neither Anja nor I is a particularly rabid Elvis fan – I could maybe name a couple of movies, probably sing most of his ten most favourite songs, and I think I’m doing better than Anja – but who could resist the allure of all that fabulousness???
Not us, that’s fer sher!
We were taken by shuttle from the ticket area (right next door to the Heartbreak Hotel) across the street to Graceland, given headphones and a self-guided tour set, and sent off to shuffle our merry way through the house. It was PACKED. On a weekday. At about 10:30 a.m. It was pretty amazing.
The house and property are both a fair bit smaller than I would have guessed, and I didn’t know that Elvis had bought the house; I always thought he had it built. I also didn’t know how close he was to his family, or how much money he gave away, or about all of his toys and sports. You leave the tour with a much better sense of him as an interesting, flawed person than as an icon; it’s very interesting.
Except, really? The man couldn’t decorate AT ALL. I’m sorry. It’s true.
After the whole Graceland tour (which included stops – and purchases – at no less than 5 – FIVE – themed Elvis gift shops), we headed downtown to tour Beale Street (home of the blues), Sun Studio (where Elvis and Johnny Cash first recorded, among others), and the Rock and Soul Museum. It was jam-packed, but sooo amazing. I bought muuuuusic, we bought t-shirts and writing paper and mugs and all kinds of awesomeness!
(And had much less trouble finding dinner that night!)
Then, we embarked upon the 3 hours extravaganza that was our visit to the Graceland complex. This was the entire reason we went to Memphis which, as you may have noticed if you ever looked at a map, is a bit out of the way for a trip from Florida to Texas…Neither Anja nor I is a particularly rabid Elvis fan – I could maybe name a couple of movies, probably sing most of his ten most favourite songs, and I think I’m doing better than Anja – but who could resist the allure of all that fabulousness???
Not us, that’s fer sher!
We were taken by shuttle from the ticket area (right next door to the Heartbreak Hotel) across the street to Graceland, given headphones and a self-guided tour set, and sent off to shuffle our merry way through the house. It was PACKED. On a weekday. At about 10:30 a.m. It was pretty amazing.
The house and property are both a fair bit smaller than I would have guessed, and I didn’t know that Elvis had bought the house; I always thought he had it built. I also didn’t know how close he was to his family, or how much money he gave away, or about all of his toys and sports. You leave the tour with a much better sense of him as an interesting, flawed person than as an icon; it’s very interesting.
Except, really? The man couldn’t decorate AT ALL. I’m sorry. It’s true.
After the whole Graceland tour (which included stops – and purchases – at no less than 5 – FIVE – themed Elvis gift shops), we headed downtown to tour Beale Street (home of the blues), Sun Studio (where Elvis and Johnny Cash first recorded, among others), and the Rock and Soul Museum. It was jam-packed, but sooo amazing. I bought muuuuusic, we bought t-shirts and writing paper and mugs and all kinds of awesomeness!
(And had much less trouble finding dinner that night!)
Day 18: Panama City to Memphis, TN
We tried to leave Panama City early, but – somewhat predictably – we got a tad lost on the way out of town. We were looking for a numbered highway, and it turns out that, in the part of town we were in, it’s called Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Parkway (or Road? Some sort of carway.) We have had to drive on a MLK Jr roadway of some kind in every town we’ve been in, I think. North and South. The only thing I’ve seen more of is Purple Heart roadways.
Our first goal was to find espresso. A goal that was tragically unfulfilled in Florida. And Alabama. And, finally, in Tennessee. It was a true tragedy, people. We even stopped and asked several people, all of whom directed us back to the town we had just passed through. Um…thanks. Or not.
I do have to say, though, that Alabama is much more rolling, green, and pretty than I would have imagined.
We pulled over in Montgomery, AL, to go to a Civil Rights Memorial that my fabulous guidebook mentioned, even though we didn’t really have a lot of time, and it was so worth it! It was designed by the same artist who did the Vietnam memorial in Washington, D.C., and it is equally simple, beautiful, and affecting. Plus it involves water, like all the best memorials. There was a small museum attached to it, and all of it was apparently part of the Southern Poverty Law Centre, so we looked around and read about some peoples’ stories. However, we didn’t feel like we had time to stay for their 17 minute movie that was starting in 10 minutes (heck, we didn’t even *really* have time for the stop itself…), and we TOTALLY got the hard sell! Both of the employees at the centre tried to guilt us into staying. Very uncomfortable.
Despite them, though, worth the visit. Plus, we got some good postcards.
We drove on, and arrived in Memphis just before it turned dark. We had two nights booked at the Heartbreak Hotel, which advertised its 24! Hour! Elvis! Network! and is apparently owned by the Presley estate.
Do you know where Heartbreak Hotel was, when we finally found it? At the end of Lonely Street.
Literally.
How awesome is that???
We headed out to find dinner, and discovered that Memphis, although a great and interesting city, is FULL of one-way streets that are not marked on the free maps they hand out to tourists. It took us an hour to find a freakin’ restaurant. Good. God. Dinner was yummy, though.
Then: collapsing. Under our individual Elvis headshots.
Our first goal was to find espresso. A goal that was tragically unfulfilled in Florida. And Alabama. And, finally, in Tennessee. It was a true tragedy, people. We even stopped and asked several people, all of whom directed us back to the town we had just passed through. Um…thanks. Or not.
I do have to say, though, that Alabama is much more rolling, green, and pretty than I would have imagined.
We pulled over in Montgomery, AL, to go to a Civil Rights Memorial that my fabulous guidebook mentioned, even though we didn’t really have a lot of time, and it was so worth it! It was designed by the same artist who did the Vietnam memorial in Washington, D.C., and it is equally simple, beautiful, and affecting. Plus it involves water, like all the best memorials. There was a small museum attached to it, and all of it was apparently part of the Southern Poverty Law Centre, so we looked around and read about some peoples’ stories. However, we didn’t feel like we had time to stay for their 17 minute movie that was starting in 10 minutes (heck, we didn’t even *really* have time for the stop itself…), and we TOTALLY got the hard sell! Both of the employees at the centre tried to guilt us into staying. Very uncomfortable.
Despite them, though, worth the visit. Plus, we got some good postcards.
We drove on, and arrived in Memphis just before it turned dark. We had two nights booked at the Heartbreak Hotel, which advertised its 24! Hour! Elvis! Network! and is apparently owned by the Presley estate.
Do you know where Heartbreak Hotel was, when we finally found it? At the end of Lonely Street.
Literally.
How awesome is that???
We headed out to find dinner, and discovered that Memphis, although a great and interesting city, is FULL of one-way streets that are not marked on the free maps they hand out to tourists. It took us an hour to find a freakin’ restaurant. Good. God. Dinner was yummy, though.
Then: collapsing. Under our individual Elvis headshots.
Day 17: Panama City
We took a day off to “rest” from our travels and hang with Panama City. Well, to “rest” as much as you can with two VERY high energy little boys (who were at least extremely entertaining, to make up for the lack of resting part. :P) We got up and Lindsay made us pancakes, and then we went swimming in their awesome pool. I thought this would be the perfect way to wake up EVERY day, but Lindsay assures me that it gets reeeeeal old after a year or two. Or three. They’re in the third year of a 4-year stretch in Panama City, and I think they’re itchin’ to get home. And I think this because they said it.
Lindsay, Anja and I saw the new Harry Potter film in the afternoon. It was kinda meh. I haven’t seen any Harry Potter movies since the first one (though I’ve read the books), and I don’t feel like I was missing much.
Then we cleaned out our car and our cooler, re-packed, wrote postcards, and enjoyed more delicious food. Rest days are fun.
Lindsay, Anja and I saw the new Harry Potter film in the afternoon. It was kinda meh. I haven’t seen any Harry Potter movies since the first one (though I’ve read the books), and I don’t feel like I was missing much.
Then we cleaned out our car and our cooler, re-packed, wrote postcards, and enjoyed more delicious food. Rest days are fun.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
A Drive-By Posting
Literally!
Apologies for the hiatus in posts - internet access has been EXTREMELY spotty and limited. I'm in Austin, Anja has gone home, and my Mom is here. Expect a real update soon!
Apologies for the hiatus in posts - internet access has been EXTREMELY spotty and limited. I'm in Austin, Anja has gone home, and my Mom is here. Expect a real update soon!
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Day 16: Brunswick to Panama City, FL
Our drive today took us through some serious Bible belt country. Almost every store or business sign had a biblical quote on it, and Anja swears there were more churches than all other types of building combined, including residential.
There was also some beautiful coastal scenery, and a couple of huge bridges. And bad radio.
Lindsay and Dave, who we're visiting here in Panama City, have a beautiful house and two very hyper kids (who will apparently be waking us up at 5 a.m.; can't wait!) They fed us delicious vegetarian chili, key lime pie, and some kind of blueberry wine. And we played games; Lindsay managed to win every time, despite her ever-increasing inebriation. There's a skill in there somewhere...
There was also some beautiful coastal scenery, and a couple of huge bridges. And bad radio.
Lindsay and Dave, who we're visiting here in Panama City, have a beautiful house and two very hyper kids (who will apparently be waking us up at 5 a.m.; can't wait!) They fed us delicious vegetarian chili, key lime pie, and some kind of blueberry wine. And we played games; Lindsay managed to win every time, despite her ever-increasing inebriation. There's a skill in there somewhere...
Day 15: Savannah to Brunswick, GA
This was our shortest driving day planned; it's only about an hour and a half drive from Savannah to Brunswick. We spent the morning wandering around some of Savannah's historic mansions, taking pictures, buying postcards, and wandered into a wool shop, where we both attempted to buy the final copy of a particular knitting book. Anja won, so we headed off to find a Barnes and Noble, where I bought another copy. We also bought a couple of trivia/games books to do while driving, because we had begun telling each other the same stories for a third time, and we needed something else to talk about.
Apparently, my knowledge of American history is superior to Anja's, her knowledge of world history is superior to mine, and both of us can come up with hundreds of answers to "logic" questions that are just as plausible as the ones the book identifies as the "correct" ones.
We went to Brunswick to spend the night at the Hostel in the Forest. There's an extremely rutted 1/2 mile dirt road you have to follow to get to the hostel parking lot, which was not the most fun thing ever to drive in my tiny Echo, but we made it. Friends of mine recommended the Hostel and met us there with their two girls, and we went skinny-dipping in the warmest lake imaginable. It was heavenly. Right up until the moment when we went to go put our clothes back on and realised we'd left them right near a fire ant nest.
Oops.
Ouch.
Yikes!
We hiked back to the main dome of the hostel, slapping ourselves and jumping around like fools, but were able to calm down long enough to eat the delicious vegetarian meal that other hostellers had prepared - each night a vegetarian feast is made available to everyone staying. It was very delicious, but we missed the circle that everyone gathers into before the meal (what with the squirming kids and the biting bugs), so we didn't really know any of the other hostellers. We sat around a fire for a bit after, then played fish with the kids, and then Anja and I headed to bed.
In our treehouse. :)
Apparently, my knowledge of American history is superior to Anja's, her knowledge of world history is superior to mine, and both of us can come up with hundreds of answers to "logic" questions that are just as plausible as the ones the book identifies as the "correct" ones.
We went to Brunswick to spend the night at the Hostel in the Forest. There's an extremely rutted 1/2 mile dirt road you have to follow to get to the hostel parking lot, which was not the most fun thing ever to drive in my tiny Echo, but we made it. Friends of mine recommended the Hostel and met us there with their two girls, and we went skinny-dipping in the warmest lake imaginable. It was heavenly. Right up until the moment when we went to go put our clothes back on and realised we'd left them right near a fire ant nest.
Oops.
Ouch.
Yikes!
We hiked back to the main dome of the hostel, slapping ourselves and jumping around like fools, but were able to calm down long enough to eat the delicious vegetarian meal that other hostellers had prepared - each night a vegetarian feast is made available to everyone staying. It was very delicious, but we missed the circle that everyone gathers into before the meal (what with the squirming kids and the biting bugs), so we didn't really know any of the other hostellers. We sat around a fire for a bit after, then played fish with the kids, and then Anja and I headed to bed.
In our treehouse. :)
Day 14: Dillon to Savannah, GA
I slept for almost 8 whole hours the night we stayed in Dillon, which meant I woke up feeling FANTASTIC. A good thing, because we stopped at a grocery store to pick up some food and asked where we could get good coffee in the area, and the clerk kind of laughed at us. You can't get that kind of thing until you reach the coast, you see.
The coast being Myrtle Beach, immortal home of Shag: The Movie, and a bastion of all that is delightfully tacky and overdeveloped beachy. We headed out, picked up a coffee (who knew Dunkin' Donuts made lattes and other espresso drinks? And they're basically decent!), and cruised down the main drag. It was pretty excellent. We stopped and picked up postcards, then headed on down the coast highway to Charleston.
It was about the time we stepped out of the car in Charleston - into the wet, steamy heat that made us sweat within the first breath taken in outside air - that we started to re-think our plan to camp that night in Savannah. Camping in Ithaca was great, but it was about a gazillion degrees cooler there.
We had some delicious lunch in Charleston, then wandered around and looked at some gorgeous old houses and the city's old slave market. By the time we made it back to the car, accompanied (appropriately) by our good friends Ben & Jerry, we'd talked ourselves into staying at a hotel in Savannah. We picked the River Street Inn - gorgeous place, great view of the river, kinda blew our budget.
Actually, it probably wouldn't have had *that* bad an effect on our budget if we hadn't also had dinner and a bottle of wine at the too-fancy-for-my-wardrobe Il Pasticcio. But damn, was that meal and wine worth it!
Also, Savannah at night is beautiful, but apparently very dangerous - according to our server, who Anja asked for recommendations for a walking route. I think she may have simply been trying to protect the drunk tourists, myself.
The coast being Myrtle Beach, immortal home of Shag: The Movie, and a bastion of all that is delightfully tacky and overdeveloped beachy. We headed out, picked up a coffee (who knew Dunkin' Donuts made lattes and other espresso drinks? And they're basically decent!), and cruised down the main drag. It was pretty excellent. We stopped and picked up postcards, then headed on down the coast highway to Charleston.
It was about the time we stepped out of the car in Charleston - into the wet, steamy heat that made us sweat within the first breath taken in outside air - that we started to re-think our plan to camp that night in Savannah. Camping in Ithaca was great, but it was about a gazillion degrees cooler there.
We had some delicious lunch in Charleston, then wandered around and looked at some gorgeous old houses and the city's old slave market. By the time we made it back to the car, accompanied (appropriately) by our good friends Ben & Jerry, we'd talked ourselves into staying at a hotel in Savannah. We picked the River Street Inn - gorgeous place, great view of the river, kinda blew our budget.
Actually, it probably wouldn't have had *that* bad an effect on our budget if we hadn't also had dinner and a bottle of wine at the too-fancy-for-my-wardrobe Il Pasticcio. But damn, was that meal and wine worth it!
Also, Savannah at night is beautiful, but apparently very dangerous - according to our server, who Anja asked for recommendations for a walking route. I think she may have simply been trying to protect the drunk tourists, myself.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Day 13: Nags Head to Dillon, SC
We woke up this morning and discovered that we’d been given a top floor room with a fantastic view of the beach and the water, AND the hotel offered a decent free breakfast – not bad for half-blind midnight desperation, I must say. Sadly, the water pressure in the shower left MUCH to be desired.
We headed out before 9 a.m., with a reservation on the 3 p.m. ferry leaving Ocracoke (which is a funny name, but not quite as fantastic as Romancoke, which we saw on the drive to Washington yesterday – say it fast!) for Cedar Island, and about 75 miles and one intervening 40-minute ferry ride between us and Ocracoke. Our first concern was, of course, finding decent coffee – you will be shocked, I am sure, to hear that neither Anja nor I considered the free coffee offered by the hotel to be particularly appealing. Luckily (or unluckily, I suppose, if you are a full-time resident of the Outer Banks), the population apparently swells from 30,000 to over 6 million due to tourists, and there is LOTS of coffee to be had. Delicious and nutritious coffee, though they always look extremely aghast when I order more than 2 shots of espresso.
We drove down the Outer Banks to Hatteras, with the windows down and the crazy wind blowing through the car. The Outer Banks are just south of Kitty Hawk, but we unfortunately weren’t able to go up to the Wright Bros museum; however, I can completely understand why you might pick that location to try to make something fly. My car almost took off, I swear!
Apparently, the main pull-off between Avon and Buxton (both just north of Hatteras) is called Canadian Hole. We searched high and low for that sign so we could take a picture, but tragically our search was in vain. Apparently, it’s a name used by the locals, but not on signage. Sigh. What a wasted opportunity.
We caught the free ferry (free! Can you imagine? I think the B.C. government needs to get on this!) from Hatteras to Ocracoke, drove some more through gorgeous, windswept, dune-y island, and ended up at the Ocracoke ferry terminal. It’s a pathetic terminal, with only one small official ferry shop, no food, and, worst of all, NO COFFEE!! They were building a couple of large buildings right by the car line-up area, and I can only hope that those will someday soon house overpriced shops and café’s to serve the temporarily captive commuters. Like, before I go back and rent a house for the summer, which Anja and I are now planning.
The ferry from Ocracoke to Cedar island is 2 ½ hours long. We ate watermelon, Anja wrote 60 bazillion postcards (seriously, that girl is a MACHINE!), and I searched in vain for my book.
Once we hit the mainland, we started the 5 hour drive to South of the Border. No, really, this time we were SURE! It rained and thunderstormed almost the entire way, and the amazing lightning shots almost made up for the regular hydroplaning and extremely decreased visibility. Um, I mean it was entirely safe and we in no way drove in dangerous weather or anything.
South of the Border? Was awesome. Lots of things were closed, unfortunately, but it was still super ridiculously hilarious. We bought postcards. Lots and lots of postcards.
Then we made it about 5 miles further down the road and crashed in an EconoLodge for the night.
We headed out before 9 a.m., with a reservation on the 3 p.m. ferry leaving Ocracoke (which is a funny name, but not quite as fantastic as Romancoke, which we saw on the drive to Washington yesterday – say it fast!) for Cedar Island, and about 75 miles and one intervening 40-minute ferry ride between us and Ocracoke. Our first concern was, of course, finding decent coffee – you will be shocked, I am sure, to hear that neither Anja nor I considered the free coffee offered by the hotel to be particularly appealing. Luckily (or unluckily, I suppose, if you are a full-time resident of the Outer Banks), the population apparently swells from 30,000 to over 6 million due to tourists, and there is LOTS of coffee to be had. Delicious and nutritious coffee, though they always look extremely aghast when I order more than 2 shots of espresso.
We drove down the Outer Banks to Hatteras, with the windows down and the crazy wind blowing through the car. The Outer Banks are just south of Kitty Hawk, but we unfortunately weren’t able to go up to the Wright Bros museum; however, I can completely understand why you might pick that location to try to make something fly. My car almost took off, I swear!
Apparently, the main pull-off between Avon and Buxton (both just north of Hatteras) is called Canadian Hole. We searched high and low for that sign so we could take a picture, but tragically our search was in vain. Apparently, it’s a name used by the locals, but not on signage. Sigh. What a wasted opportunity.
We caught the free ferry (free! Can you imagine? I think the B.C. government needs to get on this!) from Hatteras to Ocracoke, drove some more through gorgeous, windswept, dune-y island, and ended up at the Ocracoke ferry terminal. It’s a pathetic terminal, with only one small official ferry shop, no food, and, worst of all, NO COFFEE!! They were building a couple of large buildings right by the car line-up area, and I can only hope that those will someday soon house overpriced shops and café’s to serve the temporarily captive commuters. Like, before I go back and rent a house for the summer, which Anja and I are now planning.
The ferry from Ocracoke to Cedar island is 2 ½ hours long. We ate watermelon, Anja wrote 60 bazillion postcards (seriously, that girl is a MACHINE!), and I searched in vain for my book.
Once we hit the mainland, we started the 5 hour drive to South of the Border. No, really, this time we were SURE! It rained and thunderstormed almost the entire way, and the amazing lightning shots almost made up for the regular hydroplaning and extremely decreased visibility. Um, I mean it was entirely safe and we in no way drove in dangerous weather or anything.
South of the Border? Was awesome. Lots of things were closed, unfortunately, but it was still super ridiculously hilarious. We bought postcards. Lots and lots of postcards.
Then we made it about 5 miles further down the road and crashed in an EconoLodge for the night.
Day 12: Felton to Nags Head, NC
Anja and I had originally planned to spend a full day and a second night in Felton, but after much discussion and further examination of our atlas, we decided to leave the afternoon of the second day and get a head start on the trip to Georgia. We spent the morning doing laundry (and, in Anja’s case, feeding everyone crepes – yum!), then headed out shortly after 1 p.m. to drive down the Delaware/Maryland/Virginia peninsula to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel.
It’s not a terribly picturesque drive down Route 13 to the CBBT, but we did see a few entertaining license plates, of which Anja took pictures. We also ran into another blinding rainstorm, which was again the most fun thing ever. This time some stupid idiots were racing down the left lane, despite the complete lack of anything that could accurately be termed “visibility”, so we stayed as far right as possible. Safely.
We pulled into a gas station shortly after the rain ended, and had the distinct pleasure of pulling back out behind some idiot in a truck that he had piled high with tires. Big truck tires. Big, not-secured-or-tied-down-in-any-way-shape-or-form truck tires. Sure enough, one came bouncing off and flying toward my car. I swerved with my super racing skills and avoided it, *then* remembered to honk and alert the idiot. Who looked at me with great disgruntlement, but did at least pull over, I assume to get the tire.
The Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel is kind of expensive ($12 toll), but AWESOME. Seriously, there were parts where all we could see was the bridge just in front and just behind us, because the rest was covered in mist. It was like driving on a sky bridge! If you ignored the water lapping just to your left or right. Which I did. Because bridges kind of freak me out.
On the other side of the CBBT, we entered Norfolk, VA. Now, Anja and I had decided that, since we had left Felton early, we had time to go in to the I-95, cross the border, and then head back out to the coast again to reach the Outer Banks. (Or, as Anja remembers them, the Outer Limits.)(In the second alternative, as I remember them, the Outer Hebrides.) We wanted to go inland to the I-95, you see, because there is this incredibly awesome, kitschy tourist trap called “South of the Border” that we wanted to visit. It was, according to my guide book, just south of the North Carolina state line.
Norfolk is ugly and we managed to just hit work traffic. Took us about an hour and a half to get through it and finally make it to the highway. Some poor woman in a Yaris pulled up next to us at one point to ask directions; I have no idea why you’d ask the only person in the massive car line-up with Ontario plates, but we were rather predictably unable to help her. She pulled in behind us and followed us, though.
Anyway, we make it to the I-95, head across the border, and start looking for Exit 1, which is supposed to lead us to South of the Border. We see none of the promised billboards advertising SOTB, and the first exit we see is Exit 180. As you can imagine, we were a little confused, so Anja pulled out the guide book to see what was going on.
Turns out? South of the Border? Is in South Carolina. Not North Carolina. When it said “south of the North Carolina state line”, it meant the southern state line.
Yeah.
May this hard-earned lesson serve you well some day.
Anyway, we laughed our asses off, Anja apologised a million times, and we stopped for ice cream. We then figured we would just head back out to the coast and go as far as we felt we could. (And by “we”, I mean “me”, since I was the only one driving.) We followed a semi-country highway for three hours, alone most of the way, in rain most of the way, and extremely confused by the highway signage most of the way. (Watch out for bears? In North Carolina? Really?) Finally, completely exhausted and cursing the hotel-free stretch of highway that is the last hour’s drive out to the Outer Banks, we arrived in Nags Head and, with the help of Anja’s boyfriend googling in New York, found a Comfort Inn. Where we promptly collapsed in Becky and Chris’ lovely, air conditioned home.
It’s not a terribly picturesque drive down Route 13 to the CBBT, but we did see a few entertaining license plates, of which Anja took pictures. We also ran into another blinding rainstorm, which was again the most fun thing ever. This time some stupid idiots were racing down the left lane, despite the complete lack of anything that could accurately be termed “visibility”, so we stayed as far right as possible. Safely.
We pulled into a gas station shortly after the rain ended, and had the distinct pleasure of pulling back out behind some idiot in a truck that he had piled high with tires. Big truck tires. Big, not-secured-or-tied-down-in-any-way-shape-or-form truck tires. Sure enough, one came bouncing off and flying toward my car. I swerved with my super racing skills and avoided it, *then* remembered to honk and alert the idiot. Who looked at me with great disgruntlement, but did at least pull over, I assume to get the tire.
The Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel is kind of expensive ($12 toll), but AWESOME. Seriously, there were parts where all we could see was the bridge just in front and just behind us, because the rest was covered in mist. It was like driving on a sky bridge! If you ignored the water lapping just to your left or right. Which I did. Because bridges kind of freak me out.
On the other side of the CBBT, we entered Norfolk, VA. Now, Anja and I had decided that, since we had left Felton early, we had time to go in to the I-95, cross the border, and then head back out to the coast again to reach the Outer Banks. (Or, as Anja remembers them, the Outer Limits.)(In the second alternative, as I remember them, the Outer Hebrides.) We wanted to go inland to the I-95, you see, because there is this incredibly awesome, kitschy tourist trap called “South of the Border” that we wanted to visit. It was, according to my guide book, just south of the North Carolina state line.
Norfolk is ugly and we managed to just hit work traffic. Took us about an hour and a half to get through it and finally make it to the highway. Some poor woman in a Yaris pulled up next to us at one point to ask directions; I have no idea why you’d ask the only person in the massive car line-up with Ontario plates, but we were rather predictably unable to help her. She pulled in behind us and followed us, though.
Anyway, we make it to the I-95, head across the border, and start looking for Exit 1, which is supposed to lead us to South of the Border. We see none of the promised billboards advertising SOTB, and the first exit we see is Exit 180. As you can imagine, we were a little confused, so Anja pulled out the guide book to see what was going on.
Turns out? South of the Border? Is in South Carolina. Not North Carolina. When it said “south of the North Carolina state line”, it meant the southern state line.
Yeah.
May this hard-earned lesson serve you well some day.
Anyway, we laughed our asses off, Anja apologised a million times, and we stopped for ice cream. We then figured we would just head back out to the coast and go as far as we felt we could. (And by “we”, I mean “me”, since I was the only one driving.) We followed a semi-country highway for three hours, alone most of the way, in rain most of the way, and extremely confused by the highway signage most of the way. (Watch out for bears? In North Carolina? Really?) Finally, completely exhausted and cursing the hotel-free stretch of highway that is the last hour’s drive out to the Outer Banks, we arrived in Nags Head and, with the help of Anja’s boyfriend googling in New York, found a Comfort Inn. Where we promptly collapsed in Becky and Chris’ lovely, air conditioned home.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Day 11: Wilimington to Felton, DE, with a side dish of Washington, DC
We’d planned on sleeping in a bit in Wilmington, enjoying Denise’s sure-to-be yummy breakfast and lingering over coffee, because we only had a short trip planned for today. Unfortunately, we had to leave early to jaunt on over to the specialty camera store so Anja could see if the broken ($1000, borrowed) lens on her camera was only maybe, perhaps, pleasedeities! a broken ($20) filter.
After the delicious breakfast (oatmeal! With berries! And nuts! And sugar!), we headed over to the camera store, where they told Anja it was, indeed, just the filter, cleaned off the broken glass with compressed air, and sold her a new filter. You’d think we would have left that store completely relieved and jubilant, but unfortunately Anja was not terribly impressed with the acumen and knowledge of the store employees, so we were still going to have to wait and see what happened when she took pictures.
Anja was particularly concerned because she could hear some sort of noise when she focused the lens, which hadn’t been there before. I didn’t hear a damn thing, though, so *I* was relieved!
We headed rather uneventfully down to Felton, DE, where we were staying at the home of the lovely Becky and Chris (although he probably wouldn’t appreciate being referred to as “lovely”…I mean, of course, the manly and hardcore Chris) and their three awesome cats. We then spent an hour and a half trying to figure out how to drive to Washington, DE, and where to park. It’s a big city, folks. We settled on parking at the suburban metro station and taking it in to the Mall, where we were meeting some Washingtonians for dinner.
We got to the Mall, I took some pictures, and then we had to get to the meeting place for dinner. We gave ourselves lots and lots of time to walk really very few blocks, because it was Very Hot. Extremely Hot. We Thought We Might Die Hot. We finally dragged our exhausted and melting asses to the corner of 7th and E, where we were supposed to be meeting our friends, and saw neither them nor any sign of any restaurant, let alone the restaurant they had named.
So we called them. Turns out? Washington is organised into quadrants, and there are four of almost every intersection. That’s right, there are 4 – FOUR – intersections of 7th and E in Washington, D.C. I have seen some bad city planning in my time, but this? Is off the charts. Good. God.
Anyway, in case you can’t see it coming, turned out we were in the northwest quadrant, and needed to be in the northeast quadrant. Or vice versa? Regardless, we had to haul our asses through the burning son for another 10 blocks to get to the proper intersection, where we finally had good food, lovely sangria, and had a great time with our friends. Then we drove back to Felton (and by “we”, I mean thelovely macho, manly Chris – for which my right knee was tremendously grateful!) and fell into an exhausted stupor.
After the delicious breakfast (oatmeal! With berries! And nuts! And sugar!), we headed over to the camera store, where they told Anja it was, indeed, just the filter, cleaned off the broken glass with compressed air, and sold her a new filter. You’d think we would have left that store completely relieved and jubilant, but unfortunately Anja was not terribly impressed with the acumen and knowledge of the store employees, so we were still going to have to wait and see what happened when she took pictures.
Anja was particularly concerned because she could hear some sort of noise when she focused the lens, which hadn’t been there before. I didn’t hear a damn thing, though, so *I* was relieved!
We headed rather uneventfully down to Felton, DE, where we were staying at the home of the lovely Becky and Chris (although he probably wouldn’t appreciate being referred to as “lovely”…I mean, of course, the manly and hardcore Chris) and their three awesome cats. We then spent an hour and a half trying to figure out how to drive to Washington, DE, and where to park. It’s a big city, folks. We settled on parking at the suburban metro station and taking it in to the Mall, where we were meeting some Washingtonians for dinner.
We got to the Mall, I took some pictures, and then we had to get to the meeting place for dinner. We gave ourselves lots and lots of time to walk really very few blocks, because it was Very Hot. Extremely Hot. We Thought We Might Die Hot. We finally dragged our exhausted and melting asses to the corner of 7th and E, where we were supposed to be meeting our friends, and saw neither them nor any sign of any restaurant, let alone the restaurant they had named.
So we called them. Turns out? Washington is organised into quadrants, and there are four of almost every intersection. That’s right, there are 4 – FOUR – intersections of 7th and E in Washington, D.C. I have seen some bad city planning in my time, but this? Is off the charts. Good. God.
Anyway, in case you can’t see it coming, turned out we were in the northwest quadrant, and needed to be in the northeast quadrant. Or vice versa? Regardless, we had to haul our asses through the burning son for another 10 blocks to get to the proper intersection, where we finally had good food, lovely sangria, and had a great time with our friends. Then we drove back to Felton (and by “we”, I mean the
Day 10: Toronto to Wilmington, DE
Google maps told us this drive would take about 8 1/2 to 9 hours, taking only interstates. We decided to leave Toronto early, in case there was a long delay at the border, and to give ourselves time to maybe do some country roads, while still arriving at the friend's house we were staying in that night in time for dinner.
Ha.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
We made it across the border just fine - we went to the bridge right by the falls, and the delay was less than 20 minutes (at 8:30 a.m.; I can't speak for later in the day...) The border guard actually *looked* at our identification, so in that sense he was one step ahead of the Canadian border guard we'd crossed with the day before, but that was about it.
We drove through Buffalo, where we experienced the worst rainfall it has ever been my pleasure to drive through - the wipers couldn't keep up with the rain, all I could barely make out were the taillights ahead of me, so I followed them; miraculously, they led to my exits - and I couldn't pull over AT ALL, despite Anja's desperate need for a bathroom.
Karma paid me back in spades, by the way, since about 2 hours later we turned off the road to find a bathroom and gas in little ol' Homer, NY, which is a SCARY, scary little town, and where their signs LIE, LIE, LIE about the locations of bathrooms. I thought my kidneys would burst, and I'd have to get a transplant from my cartoonishly fearful adult son. Luckily, we found a bathroom in time.
We made to within about 5 miles of the Pennsylvania border when we hit construction. One. And. One. Half. Hours. to get through those 5 miles, and then blessed, blessed freedom. For about five miles, at which point we HIT CONSTRUCTION AGAIN!!! Luckily, this delay was only about 1/2 an hour.
Did I mention this all took place in about a bazillion degree heat? I am very, very glad my little car has air conditioning.
We then drove over the crappiest highways it has ever been my pleasure to experience, got lost and nearly run down TWICE in Philadelphia, and finally made it to Wilmington. You can tell the very SECOND you hit Delaware, by the way, despite the fact that Philly/Wilmington is kind of one big city: your ride becomes immediately and noticeably smoother.
Dinner was delicious, and her bedroom was air conditioned. :)
Ha.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
We made it across the border just fine - we went to the bridge right by the falls, and the delay was less than 20 minutes (at 8:30 a.m.; I can't speak for later in the day...) The border guard actually *looked* at our identification, so in that sense he was one step ahead of the Canadian border guard we'd crossed with the day before, but that was about it.
We drove through Buffalo, where we experienced the worst rainfall it has ever been my pleasure to drive through - the wipers couldn't keep up with the rain, all I could barely make out were the taillights ahead of me, so I followed them; miraculously, they led to my exits - and I couldn't pull over AT ALL, despite Anja's desperate need for a bathroom.
Karma paid me back in spades, by the way, since about 2 hours later we turned off the road to find a bathroom and gas in little ol' Homer, NY, which is a SCARY, scary little town, and where their signs LIE, LIE, LIE about the locations of bathrooms. I thought my kidneys would burst, and I'd have to get a transplant from my cartoonishly fearful adult son. Luckily, we found a bathroom in time.
We made to within about 5 miles of the Pennsylvania border when we hit construction. One. And. One. Half. Hours. to get through those 5 miles, and then blessed, blessed freedom. For about five miles, at which point we HIT CONSTRUCTION AGAIN!!! Luckily, this delay was only about 1/2 an hour.
Did I mention this all took place in about a bazillion degree heat? I am very, very glad my little car has air conditioning.
We then drove over the crappiest highways it has ever been my pleasure to experience, got lost and nearly run down TWICE in Philadelphia, and finally made it to Wilmington. You can tell the very SECOND you hit Delaware, by the way, despite the fact that Philly/Wilmington is kind of one big city: your ride becomes immediately and noticeably smoother.
Dinner was delicious, and her bedroom was air conditioned. :)
Day 9: Ithaca to Toronto
Yes, I realise this looks like back-tracking. But there was a play I really wanted to see at the Toronto Fringe, so up we went. We detoured through Niagara wine region for a couple of hours, including a very important stop for ice cream at the Avondale Dairy, and made it to Toronto before dinner.
Just in time to stop at the hotel I had booked and discover that it was both filthy and unsafe. Yay.
So we popped down to Starbucks for internet access and booked a room at the Days Inn (where the lovely counterperson bumped us up to a better room because we looked all tired and bedraggled), rested in blessed air conditioning for about a half hour, and ventured forth into the muggy world of Toronto for food and entertainment. Both of which were good.
Just in time to stop at the hotel I had booked and discover that it was both filthy and unsafe. Yay.
So we popped down to Starbucks for internet access and booked a room at the Days Inn (where the lovely counterperson bumped us up to a better room because we looked all tired and bedraggled), rested in blessed air conditioning for about a half hour, and ventured forth into the muggy world of Toronto for food and entertainment. Both of which were good.
Day 8: Ithaca
We had unfortunately bad coffee in the morning, after discovering that the plug-in kettle we had wouldn't work in my car, and therefore we couldn't make our own.
I should really have bought that $23 camping stove at MEC. The ones they had in the Ithaca camping store were, like, $75.
Anyway, bad coffee, good hike up and down by the waterfalls: it balances out.
For lunch, Moosewood Restaurant: Take Two. Mmmmmmm!
After lunch, I discovered that one of my student loans is taking excessive amounts of money from my bank account, and none of the numbers I have for them work in the U.S. A fun time was had by all with that.
We saw Ratatouille in the afternoon, while it POURED rain. I don't like rats. Even anthropomorphized rats.
Dinner: Moosewood Restaurant: Take Three. Huge chunk of our budget. Soooooo worth it!
I should really have bought that $23 camping stove at MEC. The ones they had in the Ithaca camping store were, like, $75.
Anyway, bad coffee, good hike up and down by the waterfalls: it balances out.
For lunch, Moosewood Restaurant: Take Two. Mmmmmmm!
After lunch, I discovered that one of my student loans is taking excessive amounts of money from my bank account, and none of the numbers I have for them work in the U.S. A fun time was had by all with that.
We saw Ratatouille in the afternoon, while it POURED rain. I don't like rats. Even anthropomorphized rats.
Dinner: Moosewood Restaurant: Take Three. Huge chunk of our budget. Soooooo worth it!
Day 7: Boston to Ithaca
After leaving Arthur's house unlocked, because none of the multiple keys he left us could actually turn in the freakin' lock, we headed on down the road to Ithaca.
We drove the interstates most of the way, and here is my opinion of them: 1) ugly, and 2) expensive. Tolls are new to me. I do not like them.
On the plus side, we did finally purchase a road atlas at one of the ubiquitous service stations beside the interstate, so the chances of us getting lost decreased dramatically. Not to anything close to zero, mind you, but much farther away from 100%. :)
We headed off the interstate onto country roads through the Finger Lakes region. Beautiful area, I must say, with lots of interesting old houses. Plus the Harriet Tubman House, though we unfortunately didn't have time to stop and look. We bought fresh cherries and peas from an Amish woman, and made it to our campsite in plenty of time.
The campsite was small, our neighbours were grouchy, drinking car-campers, and some other campsite played loud, bad rock until late at night. On the plus side, the park was beautiful, and my new tent is AWESOME.
And, for dinner? The Moosewood Restaurant: Take One. Deeeee-lish.
We drove the interstates most of the way, and here is my opinion of them: 1) ugly, and 2) expensive. Tolls are new to me. I do not like them.
On the plus side, we did finally purchase a road atlas at one of the ubiquitous service stations beside the interstate, so the chances of us getting lost decreased dramatically. Not to anything close to zero, mind you, but much farther away from 100%. :)
We headed off the interstate onto country roads through the Finger Lakes region. Beautiful area, I must say, with lots of interesting old houses. Plus the Harriet Tubman House, though we unfortunately didn't have time to stop and look. We bought fresh cherries and peas from an Amish woman, and made it to our campsite in plenty of time.
The campsite was small, our neighbours were grouchy, drinking car-campers, and some other campsite played loud, bad rock until late at night. On the plus side, the park was beautiful, and my new tent is AWESOME.
And, for dinner? The Moosewood Restaurant: Take One. Deeeee-lish.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Day 6: Boston
Anja and I woke up wanting to make coffee at Arthur’s house, but were somewhat stymied by his lack of a kettle, and his complete and total lack of milk. So we ventured out in the car – Anja’s first trip as a passenger in my car! – to find milk. We asked a guy (Anja complimented me on my ability to eat my ego and ask for directions, and I commented on my lack of penis – it was a heartwarming exchange), found the 7-11, and were in business. When Arthur FINALLY woke up, he said he normally gets his coffee on the go, so he doesn’t really need milk.
Whatever. Philistine.
Arthur drove us in to Harvard for the day (that’s right, did you know? I went to Harvard.), because Anja really wanted to see the glass flower exhibit at the Natural History museum. I can post a link, but I have to tell you: pictures cannot do this exhibit justice. It is AMAZING that those things were made out of glass, over a hundred years ago. (Well, it’s amazing to me as a layperson; perhaps someone who actually knows anything about glass would find them fairly standard?) Then we looked at the creepy bugs and skeletons, and some awesome dioramas. The Peabody Museum, which is connected to the Natural History Museum and appears to be the part that contains the dioramas, includes kind of hilariously politically-correct discussions of the dioramas. Don’t get me wrong, they are right – they discuss how dioramas tend to present First Nations peoples (or Native Americans, as they say) as static, unchanging, and historical rather than a real living people – but the language is so very academically earnest. It’s hard not to laugh.
Interestingly, there were a few exhibits that had been removed for repatriation to the First Nations from whom they had been taken decades or centuries ago, on the basis of the Native American Graves and Something Repatriation Act, which I learned about last summer in my International and Comparative Intellectual Property Law program. Yay for real-life applicability of school!
After the museum we wandered around Harvard, bought some ice cream (you may notice this trend continuing…), laughed at Arthur as he tried to finish his RIDICULOUSLY spicy mango sorbet, and headed down to Boston Commons. We were going to roam around downtown, find a restaurant, and then watch the fireworks. We got a little distracted by Filene’s Basement (where I bought a watch to replace mine! And a bathing suit! For $23!), and then SERIOUSLY distracted by the rain, so we forewent the fireworks and returned to Arthur’s condo for dinner and movies. Anja picked Arthur and the Invisibles, which sucked. A lot. We said she was never allowed to pick the movie again, and then let her pick Starship Troopers. We’d all seen it before anyway, so it was all good.
Whatever. Philistine.
Arthur drove us in to Harvard for the day (that’s right, did you know? I went to Harvard.), because Anja really wanted to see the glass flower exhibit at the Natural History museum. I can post a link, but I have to tell you: pictures cannot do this exhibit justice. It is AMAZING that those things were made out of glass, over a hundred years ago. (Well, it’s amazing to me as a layperson; perhaps someone who actually knows anything about glass would find them fairly standard?) Then we looked at the creepy bugs and skeletons, and some awesome dioramas. The Peabody Museum, which is connected to the Natural History Museum and appears to be the part that contains the dioramas, includes kind of hilariously politically-correct discussions of the dioramas. Don’t get me wrong, they are right – they discuss how dioramas tend to present First Nations peoples (or Native Americans, as they say) as static, unchanging, and historical rather than a real living people – but the language is so very academically earnest. It’s hard not to laugh.
Interestingly, there were a few exhibits that had been removed for repatriation to the First Nations from whom they had been taken decades or centuries ago, on the basis of the Native American Graves and Something Repatriation Act, which I learned about last summer in my International and Comparative Intellectual Property Law program. Yay for real-life applicability of school!
After the museum we wandered around Harvard, bought some ice cream (you may notice this trend continuing…), laughed at Arthur as he tried to finish his RIDICULOUSLY spicy mango sorbet, and headed down to Boston Commons. We were going to roam around downtown, find a restaurant, and then watch the fireworks. We got a little distracted by Filene’s Basement (where I bought a watch to replace mine! And a bathing suit! For $23!), and then SERIOUSLY distracted by the rain, so we forewent the fireworks and returned to Arthur’s condo for dinner and movies. Anja picked Arthur and the Invisibles, which sucked. A lot. We said she was never allowed to pick the movie again, and then let her pick Starship Troopers. We’d all seen it before anyway, so it was all good.
Day 5: Montreal to Boston
Today was the big test: my first venture forth onto American highways.
I left Montreal bright and early (and with a lighter car, having mailed myself a few boxes from Montreal.)(And unfortunately left one for Vinny and Tasha to mail on for me; sorry!) and headed off following my trusty instructions from Google.
I didn't, by the way, have any maps of any place I intended to go. I tried; I looked at bookstores in Sudbury, but nothing seemed terribly useful. So I asked the Google Map Gods and hoped for the best.
The suggested border crossing was in southeastern Quebec, heading in to New Hampshire. There were two border guards, plenty to deal with the guy in front of me, me, and the guy behind me. If you ever want to avoid a wait at the border, I can highly recommend this location. If, you know, I could ever find it again.
The guards asked me a few questions, asked to see inside my trunk, and started laughing their asses off at me when I popped the trunk, and half of its contents exploded onto them. They let me go on my merry way, and I began wending my way through New Hampshire and northern Maine, to Portland, where I was set to meet an imaginary friend for lunch.
I left Montreal bright and early (and with a lighter car, having mailed myself a few boxes from Montreal.)(And unfortunately left one for Vinny and Tasha to mail on for me; sorry!) and headed off following my trusty instructions from Google.
I didn't, by the way, have any maps of any place I intended to go. I tried; I looked at bookstores in Sudbury, but nothing seemed terribly useful. So I asked the Google Map Gods and hoped for the best.
The suggested border crossing was in southeastern Quebec, heading in to New Hampshire. There were two border guards, plenty to deal with the guy in front of me, me, and the guy behind me. If you ever want to avoid a wait at the border, I can highly recommend this location. If, you know, I could ever find it again.
The guards asked me a few questions, asked to see inside my trunk, and started laughing their asses off at me when I popped the trunk, and half of its contents exploded onto them. They let me go on my merry way, and I began wending my way through New Hampshire and northern Maine, to Portland, where I was set to meet an imaginary friend for lunch.
Day 4: Montreal
Today Vinny and I ventured forth to M.E.C., ostensibly so that I could buy a combo flashlight/lantern.
I came away with this.
Yeah. That store is dangerous.
I came away with this.
Yeah. That store is dangerous.
Day 3: Montreal
Okay, Canada Day? In Montreal West? Included the most hilariously pathetic parade I have ever seen. Basically every kid in the neighbourhood, either in a bike or engaged in some sort of complicated-looking ongoing water balloon fight, and a few "floats", including the completely undecorated garbage/recycling truck. It was awesome.
Then we ate more food and played Wii some more. And Tasha's dad and I discussed hockey. The end.
Then we ate more food and played Wii some more. And Tasha's dad and I discussed hockey. The end.
Day 2: Chalk River to Montreal
I got up at 5:45 a.m. in Chalk River, downed a cup of "coffee" (I miss the wet coast...), and got on the road to meet my sister for breakfast. In Ottawa. At 8:30 a.m.
Yeah, it seemed about that good an idea to me, too, at about 6:30 in the morning, after I'd had about 4 1/2 hours of sleep. I've never had that much trouble keeping my eyes open while driving before. I'd like to thank all of the drivers heading into Kanata that morning for not doing anything stupid that would have required me to call upon any kind of defensive driving skills. Ugh.
After Ottawa (where I held Ryland, what a cutie!!), I drove on to Montreal (more awake after the 4 shots of espresso I purchased at breakfast with my sister), where I arrived just in time to help set up for a 2nd birthday party for my friends' oldest child, Ben. I'm exhausted, cranky, dirty, and wearing the same clothes I had on the day before, looking forward to spending an afternoon with screaming children.
I put up balloons and streamers, and then had a shower. And talked to the only other childless woman there. She seemed to hold on to me rather desperately; I think she'd been through the ritual before.
After the birthday came Wii, which made it all worthwhile. Vinny and Tasha have the best toys. :)
Yeah, it seemed about that good an idea to me, too, at about 6:30 in the morning, after I'd had about 4 1/2 hours of sleep. I've never had that much trouble keeping my eyes open while driving before. I'd like to thank all of the drivers heading into Kanata that morning for not doing anything stupid that would have required me to call upon any kind of defensive driving skills. Ugh.
After Ottawa (where I held Ryland, what a cutie!!), I drove on to Montreal (more awake after the 4 shots of espresso I purchased at breakfast with my sister), where I arrived just in time to help set up for a 2nd birthday party for my friends' oldest child, Ben. I'm exhausted, cranky, dirty, and wearing the same clothes I had on the day before, looking forward to spending an afternoon with screaming children.
I put up balloons and streamers, and then had a shower. And talked to the only other childless woman there. She seemed to hold on to me rather desperately; I think she'd been through the ritual before.
After the birthday came Wii, which made it all worthwhile. Vinny and Tasha have the best toys. :)
Day 1: Sudbury to Chalk River
I was later leaving Sudbury than I had hoped.
Okay, a lot later.
Like, 10 hours later.
On the plus side, I *did* manage to squeeze everything into my car and out of the apartment. There was no room for my friend Anja, who I was supposed to pick up in Boston, but I figured I could just work that out later...I made it as far as Chalk River, where I stayed with my ex-stepmother and her mother in a house right by the side of the highway. I hadn't seen my stepmother in something like 9 years; it was a bit surreal.
Okay, a lot later.
Like, 10 hours later.
On the plus side, I *did* manage to squeeze everything into my car and out of the apartment. There was no room for my friend Anja, who I was supposed to pick up in Boston, but I figured I could just work that out later...I made it as far as Chalk River, where I stayed with my ex-stepmother and her mother in a house right by the side of the highway. I hadn't seen my stepmother in something like 9 years; it was a bit surreal.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Boston!
It's July 4th, I'm in Boston, and we're about to head downtown to see glass flowers at Harvard.
More later!
More later!
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