I'm lazy

I have a lot to cover, I know, but the past few days I've settled into a sluggishness. It's not that I want to go home, really. But I do have the feeling that I'd prefer to sit on the internet for more than an hour at a time, in some place other than a public library.

Or,

I'd like to sit in a bathtub all day and not be charged an extra night.

Or,

I'd like if I had a vehicle that could handle the piles and piles of shit I have. Papers, plastic bags, receipts, wrappers, ughh, clothes, ugh.

I promise in the future I will update on the who-what-where. Probably in Houston, where hopefully Rebecca will let me use her computer for more than an hour. Until then here are some bullets.

-Every time I pass a group of black cows, I think they are bears. Every time.

-I've gotten suddenly and seriously addicted to HBO's "In Treatment"

- Injuries
+ the back of my neck is sunburned, rendering me a redneck
+ my left ankle hurts from climbing through the steep, shifting sand dunes of White Sands
+ I have a cut on my left pinky from cutting a mango in a hotel room.
+ about 10% of my left thumbnail is missing from an incident where I tried to remove my key from an inpenetrable keyring


- Towns that I could have skipped and been just fine
+ Carlsbad, NM
+ El Centro, CA
+ Kerrsville, TX

- Something has leaked in my shower kit and I don't know what it is.

- Ross Perot or someone just like him showed me to my campsite at KOA and then invited me to Bible Study, so if I remember anything, I HAVE to remember to avoid being at the campsite at 7, because I think I promised him I'd attend.

- Do tourists think that by purchasing a cowboy hat, they blend in and become locals?

- British people speaking Spanish, unnatural and ticklish

- I considered but ultimately skipped returning to Santa Fe for a green chile cheeseburger at the Bobcat Bite. Sadness.

- The digital camera suffered an injury. I don't know what went wrong. Now I'm using one-time use cameras purchased two for the price of one from CVS, a deal I can only get using my CVS card.

- I ate two banana splits in 24 hours in southern New Mexico

- The stomach of the woman sitting next to me in the library just made a noise that sounded just like the zipper on my sleeping bag.

- Car is doing fine.

Days are a mix

The man at the Honda dealership directed me to a body shop where they could better look at my car. He even printed out directions, so, thank you, man with your Honda button down tucked into your khakis.

The directions led me to a main drag in San Diego, not downtown, but where lots of things were happening. The body shop had four or five broken down cars in the parking lot, but it looked fine. By broken down, I mean totally dismantled. The man was super friendly. I did my best to articulate what felt wrong in my car. We took it for a test drive. I sat on top of piles of maps and discarded In-n-out straw wrappers.

The drive was enjoyable and I was surprised that I didn't feel as shy as I usually do. He said the car was fine, and what I was probably feeling was a change in the shape of the car. Specifically, the bumper is a little lower and pushed out on the sides, by like 1/2 inch. Also there is a small gap where the hood meets the car, but he assured me the hood would not fly up. He looked at the engine, looked at the tires, and declared it all right. He charged me nothing, said I looked like a smart girl, and shook my hand the way I imagine men shake hands.

I drove with a renewed sense of purpose. I visited Balboa park, which is a gigantic urban park, housing musuems, sculpture gardens, exhibits, the San Diego Zoo, fields, trees, gardens, restaurants, and thousands of school children wearing matching shirts. One group of children had tags around their necks, like, furniture tags on cotton string. Love it.

Parking is free, the trolley around the park is free, and so is the botanical garden that I had read about. It supposedly had an amazing orchid exhibit. But it was closed on Thursdays, so I had to settle for a picture of the exterior.



Here's a sign to ponder. "Don't Abandon/Dump Any Animals in the Pond." What is the slash there for? Is it possible to dump but NOT abandon an animal in the pond? Like, if I took my pet fish to Balboa Park and dumped him in with the intention of picking him up later? Someone wrote this sign. Someone thought about what to write.



I did visit the museum of photographic arts, which was empty and great. I do love good photos, especially since I can't take them. Here is one, and I hope posting it isn't illegal. It's called "Sea of Hats"



When I visited the rose garden, I found it difficult to get "I Never Promised You a Rose Garden" out of my head. Then I went to the desert garden and had to wrestle out the mutated version I invented: "I Never Promised You a Succulent Garden." Desert plants are creepy, and I took some photos, as well as a brief video.



My brief video tour of the succulent garden.


The rose garden was lovely, as expected, and some of the names are better than the flowers.



And here is a brown recluse spider, one of the thousands I saw on my journey.


The free trolley featured a wonderful, lively, androgynous driver named Kathy. She told us all about the history of the park. I got in my car and drove east, eastbound and down, homeward, through the mountains. The views were absurd.



Here is a woman walking a sheep. Hello!


I took a detour to Julian, CA, a weird old westerny town that is famed for its apples. A recommended bakery served a crazy delicious slice of apple cherry crumb pie.

The main drag through Julian. And a specialty store!


Cats, cats, cats and more? What possibly more could you offer? OR NEED?

The detour to Julian went on a winding road upwards, and though I felt comfortable with my car, I did not feel comfortable speeding on turns posted as 15 mph. A black pickup full of Mexican teenagers tailed me the entire way down the mountain. I talked to them as I drove. "Boys, I am not speeding here. I am going to fly off the road. I know it's possible. You'll just have to hold on. I know you want to add a few inches to your manhoods. You'll have to find another way." They didn't and instead passed me, on a double yellow, on a tight curve around a mountain, going at least 50 mph. I had some brief high horse fantasies involving coming across their crashed pickup and dialing 911. Yes, I am standing here at the crash site, no one looks seriously injured, though I can confirm that they are not smart people, even for teenagers, and you may need to slap their parents in the face."

One of the mountain roads to Julian, up so high. The woman who gave me pie assured me that the town was not on fire. It was just a cloud.





Happy chug a lug, and then right at the exit for Jacumba, CA, my muffler fell off, solid gold.

A gas station was less than 500 feet away. I stood there thinking about what to do. Parked across the street was a tow truck, and the driver just sat there. I walked up to him and said, "Hi, my muffler just fell off. I was going to call AAA." He said, "I have a call I gotta go to. Here's my business card. Call AAA and give them this number." The card was black around the edges with car oil. Okay, so, let me get this straight? You have a call to make and the reason you're sitting at a gas station is?

I called AAA and the nicest girl I have ever spoken to got me a tow truck, the very same company. I hoped whoever they dispatched would not be sitting idly somewhere, killing time. The tow truck came quickly and the man let me push the lever, the one that pulls my car up onto the ramp, while he held my muffler up into place.



We had an awkward ride, 45 miles to El Centro. We listened to pop music, so let me be the one to tell you the oddness of riding with a man who does not know where Baltimore is while lisitening to the Fray and Beyonce.

He took me to an Econo Lodge where the parking lot was full of pickup trucks equipped to carry sheets of glass, you know how they look. The man at the register was unnecessarily creepy--like I could tell he was amping it up. Why do old men do that? I even wore my hoodie and stuck my neck out like a raptor, so I would be less attractive (damn my good looks). It was nighttime, so I washed my filthy feet and went to bed.

When I was leaving LA I realized the reason everyone drives so recklessly insane is because 1) the road system is confusing and changes are sudden and 2) everyone else drives so recklessly insane. It's no big thing to pull an illegal move that in another town might get you jail time, or at least a ticket. So when my exit was suddenly three lanes over I understood that it would not work to sit there with my turn signal on-- "hi there will someone please be kind enough to let me in?" I cut in front of a pickup and swerved onto the exit ramp at the last minute, a triumph.

I stopped at a farmers' market and bought 3 fuji apples (to replace those taken by the fuzz), a bag of snap peas for $1, and two cactus pads, de-prickled. The woman told me to grill them and eat them with cheese and cilantro. Yes! I love any combination of cheese and cilantro, even if they involve a cactus.

I stopped and got In-n-Out again, because I was afraid it would be my last time. Always so crowded there.

Then, my belly full of animal-style burger, I went to the beach. There are many beaches in California and so they aren't crowded. I walked out and fell asleep on the sand. I took a picture, probably, and that will go here.



I took the Pacific Coast Highway down to San Diego.



The car felt funny, still, especially at high speeds. I drove through Laguna Beach and remembered the times in 2005-2006 when my roommates and I watched it, against our wills. We could not stop. For those who don't know what it is, Laguna Beach was a fakeish reality show about rich high schoolers living in paradise, sitting on their daddies' back patios talking about boys. They always started conversations like, "So now that it's the morning after the beach party and we just saw LC at the surfing boutique, what do you think about how she was flirting all over with Jason?" This is exposition through dialogue, and it is one of those most awkward techniques in modern storytelling. Later when they graduated some of them moved to Beverly Hills and MTV aired their trials and tribulations as "The Hills" and I showed this new show to Wylie who thought it was an ironic statement on society.



Anyway, it's nice in southern California, so nice you don't have to worry about weather or other external factors so you are free all day to obsess about your toenails.


By the way, I usually add photos after I write these entries so if you prefer to look at photos, or you are illiterate, check back later.

I enjoyed the night I spent in San Diego. Downtown has tall buildings, looks like New York, but emptier, and not everyone hates you. The Hostel where I stayed was awesome, three floors, huge lounge areas. I met a girl from the British Isles who was traveling alone through the US and then going to Peru. We talked while I looked on the internet for a nearby Honda dealership. It was time to have the car looked at.

three is the magic number

I had some plans to, what, go west, take my time, turn around in LA. My new friends convinced me to detour to Bandelier and Taos. I did want to see Taos. Here's us outside our hostel, getting ready. Please note the mural.



Look at the road out of Santa Fe.



So in Bandelier, people used to live in caves high up on the wall. And they use ladders. It's neat, right? But did you know that they were in better shape than modern folks? The trails are easy and the views are sort of astounding. I asked The Brit, who has been traveling the national parks for 9 months, if he was jaded at all by these views. He said he wasn't.





Here is a good sign.



Here is a scene from a Robert Frost poem.



Here's a ladder going up high. We climbed a series of these, and I had to take a break. The air was so thin I couldn't quite catch my breath.



At the top the Brit gives us a historic overview of how the native people lived. He gestures thoughtfully.





I did wear my layers of clothing. And we did have a picnic of bread and croissant-type items stolen from the hostel. I introduced the idea of cream cheese and green olives. Cream cheese is called Philadelphia cheese in Europe.



Nearby is a really strange place called Los Alamos, and I'm not sure what they do there, but it involves: 1) the military 2) secrets 3) nuclear things. Lots of anti-war stuff going on.



We went through the checkpoint. The second checkpoint man gave us directions to the Black Hole Surplus Store.



Here they sell everything you could need if you were building a time machine. Motors, cables, chips, sprockets, nuts, bolts, hard hats, ticker tape machines, hot plates, magnets, tubes, coils, appliances, and filing cabinets. Also a nice basket of cassette tapes, 10 for $12. But the man let me have two tapes (an handmade mix called "Country" and The Cars) for fiddy cents. He also gave me a 60's looking timer that doesn't work. It says "NO GOOD" on the top. If all things had such a label.

One man at the store was cool and showed us a magic trick involving a magnet ball and copper tubing. Another guy told us that we, being English, German, and American, would all at one point have been killed as enemies of the state. It was pretty confusing actually. And a woman there told us to go two hours away to see Tinkertown. No one had heard of the rubber tire house.

Oh let me back up. Taos is famous for a few things. It is near a pueblo, it is near a huge gorge, and it is near a rumored land where the homes are made of tires and cans.

The gorge view was, as the book said it would be, mind boggling.



We sang "Like a Bridge Over Troubled Water." Here the Brit and the German are on the bridge, kicking snow at each other.




The Brit wanted a hotel room to watch the Grand Prix (pronounced Graynd Priks) but we never did see it. And the History channel was showing Pearl Harbor, and the German had never heard Josh Harnett's real voice, so that's how I ended up struggling to defend American culture in a Super 8 in Taos, New Mexico.

Sun

Here is a pic near my campsite. Look at those rocks! Dang.



I did not sleep well. But I was in good spirits. Here is a video I took after waking up. My voice in it could be described as "husky."



Amarillo is pronounced am-a-RIL-o, not ah-mah-REE-o. I got this tasty rib plate. It includes ribs (yes?), onion rings, cole slaw, potato salad, beans, apricots, and texas toast. Which is just big toast. The apricots were a mystery, almost like baby food.



The woman at the restaurant directed me to a nice park where I could picnic. But I turned the wrong way and ended up at some industrial center. And this amused me.

Amarillo has Cadillac Ranch. Obligatory pics of it.





As you see, graffiti is encouraged. I found a spray can nearby. Actually there is a whole field of empty cans, and the first one I picked up happened to work.



It probably will be there for another week before someone else covers it up. Such is.

I saw a roadrunner, I think. I mean, it was a tiny bird that ran across the road, and it looked like the cartoon.

Point taken, Macon.

I didn't think it was possible, but Macon, GA is a cuter and more southern than Savannah. And the municipal vehicles are more weirdly European. Quick, though--I didn't get a picture.

I went there for the Cherry Blossom Festival. Macon fancies itself the cherry blossom capital of the world. They also have a very good hot dog shop. If there's anything I like more than hot dogs, it's towns that declare themselves the (irrelevant thing here) capital of the world.

Everyone and everything is pink during the festival. Lots of elderly tourists are in town, too, and so it was sort of like Valentines day at the old folks home.
The lady at the tourist center (pink sweater in a wheelchair, with, I THINK, pink ribbons tied to it, though I didn't get a good look) told me that some dude came into town and decided to make Macon known for its cherry blossom trees. So he planted a boatload.



The blossoms are crazy. And the bees are just having a good ole time. The trees are densest in the affluent areas, and each little Belle Reve had its own pink wreath tied to the mailbox. Some cadillacs had pink flowers painted, too. Some other people might call it overkill. But other people are usually wrong.



There was some crazy festivities going on in the park, like moonbounces and free samples of coca cola. But I wasn't having the parking fees, so instead I drove around until I found some weird old graveyard on a hill, behind a warehouse. I took my own picture with some trees. I'm not very good at self-pictures.



Downtown Macon is small enough that finding the hot dog place was easy. It is called Nu-Way Weiners. So delicious. What was the old way? Who cares? I got a chili cheese slaw dog, all the way (mustard and onions). And a sweet tea. If that doesn't sound delicious to you, you're probably a vegetarian. Or a weirdo.



Usually sweet tea is so sweet it verges on undrinkable for me. This was no exception and I carried around my jug of sweet tea for an hour until it got warm and gross and I had to come to terms with the truth: I AM NOT A SOUTHERNER.

Way back in the visitor's center I picked up a great brochure about things to do in Macon. Lots of Little Richard stuff and sports and blah blah history but then, in the corner, a totally random picture of two little boys sitting on an Otis Redding statue! I hope to include the text that went along with this picture, because it was so powerfully written that it convinced me I had to find this statue.

Also, if you know anything about me, you know I am 1) a sandwich fanatic 2)an Otis Redding devotee. I found the statue at the end of a path that was unreachable by car. To my great surprise no one else was around--what?? Why? Probably at that cursed Little Richard memorial--so I could not take a picture of myself sitting on Otis's lap.



But I did get to take a picture of this sign. It has some great typographical errors, forever immortalized for the world to see.



Lastly, here is one of my favorite signs thus far. And I've seen a few (including the oxymoronic "Hunting Preserve" and the haunting church marquee "VICTORY IS SWALLOWED BY DEATH"). This sign is simple, to the point, and yet also hopelessly vague.



That will conclude my entry on Macon, GA, though the day was not over.

Gainesville is good, really

March 20-21

Has Gainesville always been filled with good-looking people? Yes, probably. Wylie, my host and very good friend, made banana pancakes this morning, and they were the banana-iest pancakes either of us had ever eaten.

Now we're in the library at my alma mater. The weather here--well. I don't think the locals appreciate it enough. I don't think I did, when I lived here. It's sunny, it's warm, there's a breeze, everyone is smiling. I wear my contacts and my sunglasses.

Later today we will probably sit on the porch. I want to make some mint lemonade, so I may do that. Though I have a tiny cut on my hand, and I could see this becoming a problem.

Because it was 30 degrees when I left Maryland, it didn't occur to me that packing chocolate chips in my trunk would be a bad idea. Luckily they are all in plastic bags.

Someone left her computer open at the library. She left her backpack, which is unwise. She also left while surfing facebook, and if she's not careful, I may go over there and write embarrassing things on her friends' walls.

My friend Jake encourages me to move on from Gainesville, not to dwell. I am a dweller by nature, but I promise him and I promise you and I promise myself, I will move on.