24 Hour Toe Service

The level of English in South Dakota must be rather low (loe?) if spelling such as this makes it onto a giant roadside billboard. Puts a whole new spin on the term Autobody Shop. Perhaps their tagline is "Real Men Get Pedicured"? Okay, I'll stop.

I seem to have a knack for picking the most Christian coffee shop in a given city. At least their wifi works, unlike the last place I was at in Portland, Maine. There's a cute little youth group going on and they were watching a video with uplifting string music when I walked in. Yes, yes, I'm brown and wearing a hat, I wanted to yell as they stared.

Today's drive took longer than I thought, probably because I decided to go east on I-90 to visit the Spam Museum in Austin, Minnesota. I should have visited more of those weird museums on my trip so I felt like making up a bit. Of course, their map is way better than PAM's. What a trippy place. I've made it to Rapid City, South Dakota, but in the fading light I didn't think I wanted to drive down to Mount Rushmore. The funny thing about South Dakota is that you wouldn't know the biggest attraction in the state is Mt. Rushmore. I mean, you do, there are signs, but there were probably about three signs per mile for something called Wall Drug that seemed to sell or carry everything. There were hundreds of road signs, large, small, all exhorting one to visit this place. It was so insistent that I couldn't drive past it fast enough when I finally got to the place after over 200 miles of experiencing it via billboard. I sort of wonder what it is but I was so dreading that someone would be stopping traffic on the freeway and making sure this place be visited or else.

I doubt Mt Rushmore will make it into my itinerary after all. I have to be in Missoula by the early evening as Lee (or the Colonel as he's known to most people) will be playing a show that evening with his band. I'd like to attend the show, and the 10 hour drive might turn into 11 with stops so an early start is a must.

South Dakota has been unfriendly for the most part. I was also followed by a cop for a while. I hadn't been speeding. He just showed up behind me, sat there, then pulled alongside and took a look at me, and then slowed down again and then faded into the distance. A little alarming.

The youth group is dispersing. They are staring. I'm staring back. Don't try to convert this heathen! I'm off to the local brewery.


View Leg 21: Rapid City, South Dakota in a larger map

Pool shark

The trip has entered a very relaxing, sedate stage. Things are winding down. I've only got one more week before heading back to work and the daily routine. I'm a little surprised that I'm not tired of the road. I want to continue doing this, end the circle and then head back again, see more things, meet more people.

St. Louis continued to be a relaxing time with Pierre, as it has been with all my good friends. On Sunday night, his wife Angela came back into town as she'd been seeing her dad back in Oklahoma. Pierre and I have a good time together for sure, but somehow having her around acts as a bit of a catalyst and we all have even more fun. I think both him and I respond to her presence by being funnier, and I always get a kick out of having someone else to talk to about Pierre, someone that obviously knows him pretty well. I didn't really do anything touristy in St. Louis, apart from waving at the arch from a distance and going to the ball game. Saturday was supremely lazy, spent talking about soccer (with apologies to Mr. Toady, Pierre and I came up with our respective all-time best 11 players in each position, excluding Pele and Maradona. Fascinating, I agree), doing laundry, and hanging out at the bar.

Mama's Deli in Iowa City, IAI arrived in Ames, Iowa on Monday night, and have been stomping around the old stomping grounds of two of my roommates, Scott and Rob (and I guess Allison too). I'm staying here with a good friend of Scott's, Tim and his girlfriend Nicole. They are both super nice, super easy to get along with. Yesterday and today have involved three things mainly: beer, pool and pizza. Again, a very relaxing time, made even better by the fact that I don't know them that well. I have a feeling though that I will be friends with them from now on. He's one hell of a cool guy and she's obviously very smart and quite fun too. This stay over here reminds me of staying with Dane and Annie in eastern Washington on my move from Oklahoma to Portland. Dane was a fellow groomsman in Jake and Susan's wedding in 2006 right before I moved to Portland and had told me I could crash at his place on my way to Portland if I needed to. Two people I'd met only briefly before but had a great time with.
Tim

The working toilet in Tim and Nicole's basement

I am looking forward to seeing some of the people (and animals) back in Portland though. Five weeks isn't very long but when you see most of these people every day, it does seem a little long. Looking forward to hearing some stories from other people. And Scott just told me a really funny story via text message. Apparently he'd been looking all over the house for Roberta, his golden retriever. He couldn't find her and noticed that the door to my room was open. He found her sleeping on my bed (everybody say "Awwww"). What a cutie.


View Leg 20: Ames, Iowa in a larger map

Glass break

The cop stands beside his motorcycle, still as a statue, pointing his radar gun menacingly in my direction. As I slow down even below the speed limit as I wasn't going that fast, I pass him. I look in the rear view mirror, dreading him getting on his bike and chasing me down for some infraction. But he doesn't.

I think the worst state I've encountered yet for speeding violations is Virginia. It's also the only state where radar detectors are illegal. The thing that was a bit freaky was how the cops used unmarked Chevy Impalas, so you could never be sure the car speeding up behind you was a cop or not. Ohio I've known about for a long time. I remember when I was driving from Detroit to Oklahoma back in early 2002, I saw six cop cars in the last 30 miles of I-70 that are in Ohio. Texas has a lot of speeders and I almost always saw a cop with a car pulled over.

I like St. Louis. I've been here before but I've never hung out over here. I got in about 5 and met up with Pierre after he got off work, and as we were driving around looking for a place to eat, we picked up some ticket to the baseball game from a scalper and ended up standing for three hours watching the Cardinals beat the Cubs. This was probably my last chance to catch a baseball game on this trip, good to have managed to squeeze it in.

John Irving's character had his car vandalized in Joliet, Illinois. Mine was fine when I left the city, but between Joliet and DeKalb a pebble hit my windshield and now I've got a crack on the passenger side. Darn semis.


View Leg 19: St. Louis in a larger map

Collegiate life

The following exchange I had at a gas station pretty much says all there is to say about Joliet, Illinois.

"Am I in Joliet?"
"Yes. Is there something specific you're looking for?"
"No, just Joliet."
[laughter from both gas station attendants]

John Irving said something like Joliet is where Chicago parks its trucks, and I had a hard time disagreeing with him last night. It was a rather convoluted route to take to get to DeKalb, Illinois from Joliet but I made it, even though again I had to skip a toll. This time there was an unattended coin basket and I didn't have any coins. Great. I paid the 80 cents online later. Hope no one comes chasing after me for it.

Kelsie and Pete and their friends were already well on their way down the bottle before I got here, so I thought it polite to join them as we went on a bit of a bar run in this college town. I can't believe I drove Kelsie's car home now in the bright light of day. I think I just wanted to drive a Prius. It's weird turning a car on instead of turning a key, and it makes no noise when it starts. It is funny how many Priuses (Priuii?} I see on the freeway speeding. Seems to me to be against the ethos of the car.

The night before, with our game waitress

Kelsie at breakfast

I woke up really disoriented and it took me a few minutes to figure out whether I was in a bed, on a futon or on a couch. I think being on the ground on an air mattress did that. I still felt like I was in Detroit. And by tonight I'll be disoriented in St. Louis with Pierre.


View Leg 18: DeKalb, Illinois in a larger map

Down and out in Detroit

I'm sitting with April at the very first bar that I ever came to in the United States, the Majestic, which also has Grand Bowl, the oldest bowling alley in America and the small club/poolhall upstairs called the Magic Stick. I came here with Chris, my roommate at the time. He was an alcoholic and I think he was still using heroin when I lived with him. By coincidence, we found out later that we knew some people in common, specifically April's estranged husband Scott and his band at the time. I was sort of a road photographer for Scott's band briefly while Chris knew the old lead singer for the band. I asked about Chris last night when I went out with Scott and April, and Scott told me that he saw Chris panhandling outside of CVS the other day. I went to that CVS today looking for him. I didn't see him but I did talk to another panhandler and the manager of the store and they knew of him. He was a pretty terrible roommate and when I left Detroit I was glad to be rid of him. He was very much into music and introduced me to Modest Mouse. He lived in Portland in the early 90s, worked for Nike and saw the grunge movement take off firsthand. He was working for the public radio station at Wayne State University when I left. I'm definitely surprised he's ended up like he has.

Detroit means a lot of things to me but mostly I remember the culture shock and the unhappy first seven months I spent here. I wish I could live here now because I still like it. It was odd driving into Detroit yesterday on Fort Street and seeing all the boarded up buildings and most of Tiger Stadium gone and the area around it even more decrepit. When the Tigers moved downtown to Comerica Park, it was the first step in revitalizing downtown Detroit. It just meant that the bars and shops around the old Tiger Stadium closed down and now it's a sad little neighbourhood where people just drive through and don't stop.

What's left of Tiger Stadium

I walked around campus and a lot of strange memories kept coming back to me. The picture to the left is of the classroom where my first American class was held. I'm much different now of course than I was seven, eight years ago when I lived here. I regret that I didn't really enjoy this city like I would now. It is unlikely that I'd ever live in Detroit again though. The city is not doing well, it never was, and now with the economy this place has been hit hard. Diego Rivera did a mural of Detroit industry at the Detroit Institute of Arts that I saw today. It's beautiful; it was interesting looking at that old vibrant Detroit and compare it to the doldrums the city has now been in for far too long.


View Leg 17: Detroit in a larger map

The Burning River

Finding good beer has been a challenge often on this trip, and thanks again to Victor, the biermeister that he is, I've ended up at Great Lakes Brewery in Cleveland. I just happened to be drinking his favourite beer (the very good Burning River pale ale) when I just spoke with him on the phone. And apparently when I called the first time and nobody picked up, Miro, Ted and Lena were looking at this blog on Victor's desk. Hi guys!

The Burning River Amber

It's too bad a lot of the Cleveland Museum of Art is closed for renovation. It opens in June, I believe. It looked like they had a lot of great art in some of the closed galleries.

The bartender is from Newcastle. Poor man. His team, Newcastle United, are one of the basketcases of English soccer. No shortage of drama when it comes to that team, no shortage of saviours and no shortage of pipe dreams. We spoke about that for a bit. I've unfortunately parked in short-term parking or I would spend more time here. But considering the number of great beers they have on tap perhaps it's for the best if I'm ever going to make it to Detroit in one piece.

Taking its toll

What do they do with all the toll money on the East Coast? There are tolls everywhere. No sooner have you paid one you stop again and they give you another little ticket to carry to the next booth. Inevitably, I didn't think to get enough cash and came up two dollars short at a New York state tollbooth. They gave me a little receipt and told me to pay it either by mail within 5 days or at the next tollbooth. It took a confusing hour to find an ATM off the next exit and to get back onto the freeway as this part of New York wasn't very accommodating with its services.

Yesterday's drive was probably the longest and most stressful of the trip. Not an auspicious beginning to the Irving trip. I'm not sure now about this character. He's never been a very sympathetic being, running pathetically in that way from his troubles. Which is probably why I've had a bit of an affinity for him. I left Manchester early but it took me a lot longer to get through to Bennington, Vermont than I anticipated. This is where the first leg of the character's trip ends, and I ate over here and finally got my oil changed. I was very stressed about my car the whole of yesterday's drive, especially since the oil change fella told me I probably needed my transmission flushed. I took it to a transmission place in Cleveland this morning and they said nothing was needed, so I feel better. After finally getting out of Vermont, I didn't think I'd be in New York state for as long as I was. That is one hell of a long state, and although parts of it are pretty, a lot of it is boring. And I had that toll thing add to my time. I finally got to Cleveland after 13 hours on the road, to be greeting by Victor's very nice parents and their very nice house.

I spoke with a fellow Liverpool fan at the Airport Diner in Manchester, NH. I can't believe I've now missed two 4-4 draws in a week. I must catch the next game. Of course, it will probably finish 0-0.


View Leg 16: Cleveland via John Irving in a larger map

Live free or die

What an adversarial motto New Hampshire has. I'm now in Manchester, New Hampshire, staying in a motel for the evening. I had it in my head that I was going to start heading back west from Portland, Maine, but it made a lot for sense to retrace my route along I-95. That's the first time in this whole trip that I've done that. I then finally started heading west on Route 101 which happens to go through Exeter. The Exeter prep school was where John Irving went to high school and where he started wrestling. I did not realize I was going to be driving near Exeter at all so this was a serendipitous beginning to the Almost in Iowa part of the trip.

Manchester is, believe it or not, whiter than Portland (OR). 91.75% white, wikipedia tells me. I'll feel right at home then. It's a small place, only about a 150,000 people but it's the largest city north of Boston in the whole of New England. I'm debating whether I should go to this place downtown called The Strange Brew. I'm quite tired.

Portland, Maine is actually just about as white as Manchester. There are surprisingly quite a few famous people from this particular Portland, and the Portland where I live was named for this town too. Guster is apparently their biggest musical export. Manchester on the other hand really only gave us Adam Sandler. Oh, and the founders of MacDonald's are from here. Should I take that as a sign, just like I took it as a sign that I should stay in this motel because it's on Brown Avenue?


View Leg 15: New England in a larger map

The vegan Christians of Portland

Of course I must post something from Portland, Maine. Too bad it is Monday and the museum is closed. I've made pretty good time to here so I don't think I'll be sticking around for that long. The city does seem a little run down, not that clean, but there are a few bars that I saw along this main street (Congress) that had very Oregonian Portland looking hipsters hanging outside smoking. I'm writing this from Little Lad's Bakery and Cafe. Across from me sits one of the employees. He's from Jamaica and he's singing along to the Christian rock that's playing on the stereo. I found out two things pretty quickly after I walked in: that this is a vegan coffee shop and that it's a Christian-themed shop. The popcorn is supposed to be amazing.


It's weird being on the other side of the country. My trip to New York really was great and now that I've spent some good times with a good friend, there's a bit of a stretch where I don't know anyone. And I'm taking a trip that follows a character from a rather sad story, a man dominated by a possibly unfaithful wife who decides to run from her. In a way, some of that pain that I felt after the end of my relationship with Alex returned during my visit with her, and that somehow feels connected to this man who is running from a different kind of pain. His pain is definitely greater. Mine is an odd sort of pain. There's a happiness that Alex and I are still good friends and enjoy each others' company. And there's a sadness of two sorts for me, one that things were never ideal for us when we were dating (but when are they for anyone?) and that Alex lives quite a distance away. It might be a while before I see her again, and I definitely will miss her companionship. I am happy though again that she's doing really well and enjoying her time in New York. It's crazy what an effect other people can have on your life.

Time to pick up a little souvenir from this little town called Portland. I think I've got a bit of driving still today before I find a spot to sleep in.

This is fluffy one

I think the evolution and growth or the fading and death of friendships could be the theme for my trip. Seeing all these people from my past that continue to have at least some impact on my present has led to some interesting internal dialogues. Of course, with Alex here in New York, her being an ex-girlfriend makes things a little more complicated. We are such good friends though it's a little hard to believe. It has been good to finally process some of the detritus from the end of our relationship last year, some things that were better said face to face than over the phone. I think our friendship is the better for it. And as always, we had fun together.

So much to do in New York!

We went to the Dia Museum in Beacon, NY yesterday. This was recommended to me by McIntyre at PAM because of my reactions to Agnes Martin's paintings. Unfortunately, her show had been taken down a week before. There was still a lot of great modern art there though and I had a very strong reaction to Richard Serra's work for the first time. That was primarily because of the space, as the museum is in an old factory of some sort and they've made a conscious decision to use natural light for the vast majority of their pieces, even down in the basement. It makes for a stellar experience that I much recommend. The train goes there from New York and the museum is right off the station so it's an easy hop from the city.

I'm taking off here in a bit, heading towards Portland, Maine for the requisite Portland-to-Portland bragging rights. I'm not sure if I'll stay in Portland or start making my way a little further east. I've got about two weeks left to make it back. More adventures forthcoming.

We ate at an Indian restaurant last night. Good food, slightly mediocre service, and the headline above was their description of one of their naans. I will never get over the admittedly juvenile hilarity of things like that.

Staccato romantic

I want to fall in love in New York City.

MoMA is great, the Met is even better. I can't decide between the Met and the National Gallery. I think I'll go with the National Gallery because I felt like spending even more time there, while somehow the Met's unfriendliness and in some ways shabbiness irritated me.

It has been good to see Alex.

Alex, disapproving

Baltimore yesterday in the daytime was a great contrast to the previous day. The weather was gorgeous. I took the subway around everywhere. The American Visionary Art Museum, as recommended by Anthea from the museum, was amazing. The people behind the art are almost as interesting as the art itself, with their psychic visions and vivid dreams about Pakistani starfleets. Kenny Irwin might be my new favourite artist just for coming up with the hilarious concept of Pakistanis driving interplanetary taxis far in the future. Just like they do here.

Searching for parking this morning was a near-suicidal task. Driving here has its own challenge. The people in California are crazy but the streets are wide. Because most of the cab drivers are from the Third World and will not hesitate to hit you or honk at you, this is the closest one comes in America to driving in Saudi Arabia.

Alex has been working overtime. She was supposed to get off at 5. I've stalked her and am sitting at a Johnny Rockets near her place of work, drinking the Chocolate Madness shake. I'm mad for chocolate.

On my trips to museums across the country, I've seen Head of a Woman (Fernande) by Picasso four times. I'm tired of it.

Philip Guston is amazing. Henri Fantin-Latour is stunning.

I wish I was a better photographer.

A man handed me a flier on a street corner. I took it. I then stood off to one side, held my camera at the hip and took pictures of him trying to hand fliers to other people. Nobody took one. Eventually he made eye contact with me. I held it and I smiled. He walked up slowly, said "Pictures?" I tried to lie, badly, I said "Buildings." He said "No" and walked off back to the corner. I continued standing, he stared at me a couple of times and then took off down the street. He looked back nervously. I regretted bothering him.




I cut into traffic this morning and got a series of loud honks from a cab. They continued as I raced down the side street. I don't know how close he came to hitting me.

Ariel took me into the digitization room where she works at the Walters in Baltimore. She's taking pictures of old Islamic texts and books. I got to see a Quran from the 9th century. Their rig for photography is an amazing piece of custom hardware with a very high definition custom-built camera. The museum itself has a lot of historical and classical art. Beautiful space.

I'm terrible at this stalking. This is Alex's old workplace. Well, she has had four jobs since she moved to New York. I can't be expected to keep track. She's not too far and she's going to walk here and meet me.

Lovely women here. I was here in the winter last time and in any case was dating Alex. Now they are all out and beautiful in their finery. Somehow though I feel like this is a city full of lonely people. I don't think I'll ever live in New York City. But I'd like to, if only to be deliciously lonely along with the rest of the populace.

Cormac McCarthy writes some blood-soaked books. This book is bludgeoning me. Blood Meridian indeed.

I'm glad I finally got a drunken phone call from Portland. Thank you Stefan for remembering me in your cups. And the rest of you just need to drink more.

The people in Baltimore are very friendly. They make eye contact. They nod. They say, "How ya doin'?" It's got a bit of the south somehow. It's great to walk into a subway car and see no white people.

It sounded like all of France had decided to go to the Met with me. They stood proprietorially in front of the Monets, the Manets, the Cezannes. They disdained Picasso with facial and verbal expressions of distaste and dismissal.

On a side street, a father complains to his daughter that he's spending all the money. She says she bought her own MetroCard. The mother comes out of the store wearing a new coat and the conversation is forgotten.

People look at other people here. It's fun. They look at my camera. They look at me. I look at them. I hold eye contact. They look away. Some don't. Maybe I look like a tourist. Maybe I look funny.

My new hat got its first compliment today. I should have talked to her longer. She liked Edward Hopper.

I'm tired. I'm happy-sad.


View Leg 14: New York in a larger map

Which one's the White House?

The National Gallery of Art is simply the most amazing museum I have ever been to. There was so much to see that I was completely overwhelmed. Anybody who was ever somebody when it comes to art is in there at least once, if not many times over. I fell in love with Cezanne's work, there was a Philip Guston show in the tower that was stunning, Monet, Manet, Vermeer, Renoir, Van Gogh, Ruscha, LeWitt, Pollock, everybody. I even liked the Donald Judd I saw there. The building itself is huge, cavernous, especially the West building where all the permanent collection is. I don't think I managed to go everywhere in the almost three hours I spent there. On the way there, I saw the usual stuff (Capitol, Washington Monument, etc) and then took a peek at the White House, which was rather hard to find because there are so many other buildings that look about the same. But the White House is, indeed, whiter.

I smell like rain. I thought I would be okay without an umbrella, but I thought wrong. I'm now pretty soaked as I sit on the train back from DC into Baltimore. My jacket is soaked through, my jeans' lower reaches are soggy, my hat feels heavy and my shoulder hurts from carrying my bag. I think I should make use of the fact that I have this fancy convertible bag that can turn from shoulder bag to backpack. Would be gentler on my poor back and shoulders.

Union Station in DC

The woman sitting across from me is loaded down with bags upon bags. She apparently spent her day in DC shopping at Bed, Bath and Beyond, buying a whole kitchen's worth of stuff. She's been arranging and rearranging it for the last 20 minutes or so. The train that I'm on now seems to be a little faster than the one I took coming in. I must detrain now.

The best thing I saw in DC was not the National Gallery, however. That honour belongs to the license plates of DC residents, which, even on the police cars, say Taxation Without Representation. I love this official subversiveness so publicly displayed. It really does make no sense as to why people living in DC have no representative in Congress so it is a legitimate protest. I'm just surprised it's so mainstream to think this way.

Into DC

MARC is what they call the train that goes from Baltimore to Washington. I'm sitting on the 9:52 heading into DC to go look at the National Gallery of Art and take peeks at other touristy things. I hope to actually come back fairly early and see at least one museum in Baltimore, the Visionary Art Museum, which is supposed to be amazing and different when it comes to museums. That is according to Anthea from PAM, who also hooked me up with a place to stay with Ariel in town. It was a longish and crowded drive to Baltimore. I hit Washington during rush hour and looped around it to get to Baltimore and it was pretty busy but never at a standstill. I'm slightly concerned about my car's transmission as it seems to have gotten a little jerkier over the course of the trip. I might have to drop by a Jiffy Lube tomorrow to have the oil changed and have that looked at.

Ariel works at the Walters Art Museum, and there's also the Baltimore Museum of Art too. I don't think I'll make it to all three but I'm going to try to get to the Walters as well as the Visionary. Baltimore is a run down town and I like it. It reminds me of parts of Detroit with the abandoned, burnt out houses and the alleys with broken glass and graffiti. There are cameras everywhere, supposedly in the high-crime areas (read black neighbourhoods). I am surprised considering how against surveillance cameras Americans in general are. It is odd to me that Americans, not known for being very private people, are against cameras while in the UK, especially in London, cameras are everywhere and the Brits are known to be rather more reserved. Perhaps this has all changed and I'm thinking of past stereotypes. The cameras here in Baltimore are a bit creepy. They are high up on poles like streetlights and they have blinking blue lights on top of them, making sure everyone knows they are there. The locals don't like them because they think it pushes crime into other areas and has made the crime map of Baltimore a hodgepodge, making it hard to signify a "good" and "bad" neighbourhood. Plus the cameras are like a scarlet letter for the neighbourhoods they are in.

The train has just stopped at BWI International so now it is filling up with passengers heading into DC. This is pretty affordable travel, I must say, just $7 each way. Sure beats driving and parking. The main stations, Penn and Camden connect with Baltimore's system via the elevated light rail, but the metro subway doesn't connect with the big stations, which is slightly odd to me. I remember in London, the rail from Heathrow went to Picadilly station where you could connect with a number of subway lines. I'm being demanding.

The rain has been a constant companion since I've left Atlanta. I think this is the same storm that is hitting Baltimore right now. I stopped and saw Amy in Wake Forest and drove on US-1 on this side of the country after the much prettier drive out in California on the same highway. Amy and I went on three sort of dates back in college. It was a spur of the moment thing for me and I don't think there was much attraction on either side, but we became pretty good friends. She's one of the nicest and purest people I've ever met. She's now going to a Baptist seminary in Wake Forest after returning from a two-year mission trip in Japan. The conversation was slightly awkward but that's Amy, and I left after we had lunch to make my way to Baltimore.


View Leg 13: Baltimore in a larger map

Akaila in Charlotte

My dad isn't a very sentimental person, or at least not admittedly so. When I was young, on the rare occasions that we would go to Pakistan, we as in my mom, sisters and myself, would go first and then dad would join us later when he had time off work. Usually when this happened, he'd write us a letter or during a phone call he'd express his loneliness in a rather avuncular way, saying Abba akiala Jedday may, which means Dad alone in Jeddah. And today, I feel that way in Charlotte.

It's not often I've been lonely on this trip. I've been seeing a lot of old friends and meeting random people. But every so often, in a crummy motel room, like now, or even in a gallery at a museum I feel like it would be nice to have someone else around that I already know. I feel a bit stuck in Charlotte and a little bit plagued by bad luck as regards places to stay. Hoping that my Baltimore connection pans out because I'd like to see DC on this trip. Of course, partly this is the way I planned things, just dropping in on people and then playing it by ear. It is more fun and organic that way. I shouldn't complain. And there's always the bartender.

Sreeja

Sreeja and I had a good time catching up. It has been a long time since that first day of college as she sat nearby Rehan and I listening in on our conversation in a class where the teacher failed to show. We didn't become friends instantly but later on we did, and rather good ones at that. We both ended up at Oklahoma State together too, although we didn't see each other that often. I've always somehow felt a real kinship with her. I do wish she was better at keeping in touch but oh well, I've tailed off in that regard in the past too.

I looked up this quiet little neighbourhood bar called Alexander Michael's (Al Mike's familiarly). It is a Monday night, and that after Easter, so it's pretty quiet but there are some regulars here. I'm still in the South but it's getting more cosmopolitan. It doesn't seem like Charlotte is a very happening place but they do have a free paper called Creative Loafing that has a liberal bent and isn't too bad. Sreeja doesn't like it here much but it's where work is for both her and her husband.

The two girls next to me are discussing the boyfriend of one of them. I think she's trying to get rid of him and that he's the jealous type. The bartender, Milt, comes over and offers some sage advice: Life's too short. I'm eating fried pickles. Something I believe one is supposed to do around these parts.

The bar closes a bit early, 10 pm, and I chat with Milt about the economy, considering Charlotte is the second largest financial center in the US after New York. Then it's back to the motel. The Days Inn isn't too far from downtown and is cheap. It's run by a Pakistani family. Odd to walk in to see one of the TV shows my mom used to watch. I have a hard time knowing what to say when confronted with my compatriots sometimes, and I'm always unsure which language I should use or how friendly I should be. They weren't very friendly to me so I just asked them where they were from and they didn't volunteer much more than just Pakistan. I told them I was born in Lahore. Maybe they don't like Punjabis. It would be ironic if the only prejudice I came across in the south was from my own kind.


View Leg 12: Charlotte in a larger map

Wifi-less

Atlanta and me didn't agree when it came to wifi. First, the wifi at the first coffee shop went to didn't work. Then Lindsey's wifi at her apartment wasn't working either. And finally, as you'll see from what I wrote this morning at another coffee shop, there was a power outage.

Written this morning:

I'm sitting in a dark coffee shop called the Java Monkey. Yesterday I posted from the Dancing Goat coffee shop. I wonder what's next? The Sleeping Sheep? The Cavorting Camel? The Pernicious Piranha? Somehow I like my names alliterative. Java Monkey? Bah!
It's a nice shop if the power was on. Last night there were several power outages at the bar Lindsey and I went to after dinner. And this morning there is a massive rain/wind storm and the power is out everywhere, including the stop lights. There is no wifi so this won't be posted until later. I'm not sure what's happening with my next stop in North Carolina as Sreeja in Charlotte has her in-laws in town while Amy in Chapel Hill area stays in the dorms. Looks like I might be moteling it again. I was hoping to stay in Atlanta for another day but Lindsey's work schedule is a little crazy at the moment and I didn't want to be a burden.

Lindsey is such a beautiful woman. It was great hanging out with her last night. It's a bit odd, our friendship, because we only really got to know each other after I introduced her to Ryan (from Oklahoma City, who is now married to LindsAy, a different person than LindsEy). Prior to that we were just coffee shop acquaintances. One of the things that has been a common theme during this trip is that how all my Christian friends from college, while remaining Christian, have now grown up (like me) and like to drink. And that makes them even more fun than they used to be. The Brick Store, where she took me last night has a whole bar upstairs dedicated to Belgian beers and we definitely had some yummy brews. She knew everyone who worked there and I invited them all to come stay with me in Portland, and I met a couple of fellow soccer fans to boot. All in all a great evening, made even better by the insane dreams (I remember three) that I had on Lindsey's couch.

The power is still out. Perhaps I should just start making my way to Charlotte and figure directions out as I go along. I doubt I'll be staying with Sreeja anyway, so might as well drive on to Chapel Hill and stay in a motel there so I can have breakfast with Amy.

-end-

And now I've just read what Mr. Toady wrote in a comment below. I have to assure him that I haven't been to a Denny's yet, and actually that I will be avoiding the Waffle House too. Let's just say that it came back to bite me last night in rather uncomfortable circumstances. Here I am sitting at the bar with a lovely girl and all I can think about is my poor aching belly.

The drive today was quite eventful. At least three upturned trees, and some winds that made the back of my car feel like it was about to get blown off the road. I asked Sreeja in a phone conversation whether there was a tornado advisory in the area because the clouds looked rather ominous. Apparently there wasn't, and the winds had died down by the time I stopped for gas is Pelzer, South Carolina outside of Greenville. Sreeja also told me that her in-laws last day in town is today, so my timing is a bit off. I'll have to get a hotel room again. I'm sitting in a Panera Bread on the outskirts of Charlotte, North Carolina waiting for her to get off work so we can hang out for a bit. Feels like a bit of a waste. I must try to find something interesting to do tonight.

Signage

I wonder if it's intentional when states say pretty much the same thing on their road signs but in just slightly different ways. Some states go for simplicity (ICY BRIDGE) while others are a little more long-winded ($500 Fine for Throwing Trash on Highway in Georgia versus the more succinct California warning $1000 Fine for Littering). Alabama on the other hand seems to depend less on punishment and more on the good nature of people, asking rather ungrammatically Please Don't Litter: Keep Alabama the Beautiful. There's even variation in the simplest of signs, the speed limit. Most states do say Speed Limit but some just simply say Speed. Which does leave room for argument when the cop stops you. Some states also have speed minimums, usually 40, but this seems to be a southern Midwest and south phenomenon. Most states don't bother telling you how they are enforcing their speeding laws, but some do say Radar Enforced or Speed Enforced by Aircraft (that never makes sense to me; is it really cost-effective?). Georgia again comes up trumps with the oddest sign as regards this with the rather disingenuous Speed Enforced by Detection Devices. Right.

Atlanta is surprisingly green and it's a gorgeous day. The High Museum is gorgeous architecturally, although the museum itself left me a little unimpressed with its collection. The interior and exterior of the building are great though, and oddly enough they have their very own Bosnian security guard who I had a lengthy conversation with. Much younger and way less cool than Miro of course, but a nice guy nonetheless with the strange name of Elvis. If any of my museum people read this, please tell Miro and say hi for me.


View Leg 11: Atlanta in a larger map

State number 13

As I was walking down Bourbon Street this morning, I saw a man throwing up on the sidewalk after stepping out of a bar. I like it when things live up to their name.

New Orleans is a beautiful city, even if the touristy stuff is a bit annoying as always. It combines the Pier 39 or whatever area of San Francisco with a bit of Vegas because gambling is pretty big around these parts. Mississippi also pushed the riverboat gambling thing quite a bit. I did the one touristy thing that Brian last night suggested I do, which was to go to Cafe du Monde and get a beignet. Quite good. I also bought a new hat at this cool little overcrowded hat shop in the Central Business District near Canal Street. The shop's been around since the late 1800's and has been in the same family the whole time. The rest of my time there I just walked around, popping into art galleries and taking pictures. The last one in this little batch is of a mural done by the mother of Gabe, a guy I met at a coffee shop a while ago in Portland.





Last night at Clancy's, I spoke with a local named Todd who suggested that if I happen to go on I-10 into Mississippi, I should stop and have some barbecue at The Shed, off exit 57. He made it sound like a tiny little place in the middle of a trailer park. It's actually near a campground and is rather large, and as one can see from the website, the owner has a good sense of business and branding. All that being said, it was excellent barbecue. I then continued along I-10 through Alabama, figuring I'd add Florida to my state list too, even if it is only the very top part. And naturally, this being Florida, I went to the beach, Pensecola Beach to be precise.





So beignet in New Orleans, barbeque in Mississippi and beach in Florida, but what can one do in Alabama that begins with a B? Or what can one do in "Bama" at all? I'm now in Montgomery. I decided to drive here after talking with Lindsey on the phone. She's not going to be back in Atlanta until Sunday evening, and I figured I'd stay in Montgomery and then go on into Atlanta a bit early as it is only two and a half hours away and do the museum and some other stuff before she gets into town. I think Birmingham should have been my Alabama 'B' but I didn't feel like driving there in the dark, especially after seeing a very fresh rollover wreck on the way here. It had just happened on the southbound side of the freeway (I was headed north on I-65) and I think it might have involved two cars, one of which was upside down. No police had arrived yet but several people were milling around. I stopped as did the car in front of me but seeing that nobody seemed hurt and there were others already on cell phones, I let it be and left.

And now for something that I've been dreading since I began the trip: dinner at a Waffle House. I wonder when Denny's will strike.


View Leg 10: Mississippi-Alabama-Florida in a larger map

F OPEC

That's the funniest personalized license plate I've seen on the trip. On a Honda Civic Hybrid in Southern Texas, no less.

Okay, I take back what I said about LA drivers. I love LA drivers. Texas drivers and to a smaller extent Louisiana drivers I'm now not so sure about. The thing that gets to me the most is this: there's a stream of cars in the fast lane overtaking a semi, but someone from the back of the line gets into the slow lane, speeds up right to the back of the semi, and then cuts in. What did they gain by this? I don't get it. Everybody then brakes when the miscreant cuts in, letting forth a stream of brake lights that slows down everyone all the way down the fast lane (one unnecessary flashing of brake lights can cause delays of up to 20 minutes; I think I read that somewhere). Although maybe I should take back the comment about LA drivers: the car that was the worst culprit today had California plates. He or she cut in front of me, leading me to do something I rarely do, which was to flash my brights at them several times. I'm sure I accompanied that with some hearty swearing.

But for the most part the drive from San Antonio wasn't too bad. There was a lot of construction and at least one wreck, which I thought would delay me so I wouldn't be able to make dinner over at Clancy's. I got into New Orleans about 8 15 and was seated at the bar by 8 45. Brian is Scott's friend who is a part owner, manager and head chef at this place. It's an old house, at one time owned by someone named Clancy, which then became a corner store until it eventually became a fancy neighbourhood joint in the 80s. Brian's stepfather owns part of it too, I think, which is how he got into the business, starting in the dish pit in 1994. It was cool to get into New Orleans and plunge straight into a neighbourhood instead of the touristy areas. Brian fed me a very good meal, gratis, which was very nice of him, and after he was finished working, he came and had a beer with me. Nice fella, and an excellent chef. I spoke with a couple of neighbourhood guys at the bar as well as Garth, the bartender. A very nice intro to this interesting city.

I didn't really plan where I was going to stay and I've ended up at the very reasonably priced Holiday Inn Express downtown, located only a few blocks from Canal Street. I took the risk of parking on the street but it seems like a nice area. There's a bed, a bathroom, and wifi. What more does 21st century man need?

Had a great time having breakfast with Charla, or Dr. Tully as she's known professionally, in the morning in San Antonio. I'd missed her company, and somehow, her voice. It's hard to describe. It's a little scratchy and she has a really laid back way of speaking, totaling to speech that is somehow endearing. I completely missed her husband but I heard him showering. I also had a dream in which he claimed never to have met me, even though I had before they got married. I now wish I could have stayed in San Antonio (despite her very shy dog being bothered by my presence) and not had this little arrangement for dinner tonight at Clancy's. Charla and I go back a long time and she's someone who I wish lived closer.






I'll close with my strange entry into Oklahoma City (pictures above) a couple of days ago. I got into the city a little before Ryan or Lindsay were back from their respective jobs, so Lindsay told me of a couple of places I should check out in the area. I walked into this little gourmet food store called C Market and ran into Tyler, who used to work at the Third Place coffee shop (the Side Street of Stillwater for me). That was interesting in itself, especially after I found out later that he's also one of Lindsay's ex-boyfriends (Ryan had a running joke that she had a lot of those; that's a bit of pot-kettle-black action though, knowing what I know of his dating history). After the C Market, I walked down the street, and a sign that said Going Out For Business caught my eye. It was a store that sold used motel and hotel fixtures, and although it was shuttered, I could still see all the old refrigerators and stoves and random fixtures through the dirty windows. Further down the street, there was a very colourful Asian store. This store seemed to sell everything because it had ads outside for food, shoes and even beds. Two people emerged as I walked by, a man and a woman, and the man was quite interested in my camera and started chatting with me. He then went to his car and gave me his card and told me to call him sometime. I really don't know why. And as I took pictures of the store, his lady friend honked her car horn, called me over, and then asked me very seriously if I wanted to buy the store. She said she'd give me a good price. I told her I didn't live in Oklahoma City so she asked me to ask around and gave me her card (hers had a bit more information than the guy's; his simply stated his name and number on a blue sky with clouds background. I'll have to scan these when I get back to Portland and put them on here). So here I am putting it out there if anyone is interested in buying an Asian store located in Oklahoma City that sells everything imaginable. I've got the contact info you need.


View Leg 9: New Orleans in a larger map

Work Zone Awareness Week

Driving in Texas, I felt like I was back in LA, although even the aggressiveness of the large men with large trucks with small penile appendages doesn't compare with the bonzai drivers of LA. I made really good time to Austin from Oklahoma this morning primarily because everyone was going so fast and I only stopped once.

Last night was spent in Oklahoma City with Ryan and Lindsay. I must say that both of them are so astonishingly easy to get along with I really want them to move to Portland. They want to move to Seattle, but I've been talking up Portland because it is cheaper and a little easier to live in. Ryan I've known for quite a while; he's my old roommate Zack's best friend. He's one of those people I don't keep in touch with too well but whenever we see each other we pretty much pick up right where we leave off without any trouble. It was fun hanging out last night with him and then this morning I had breakfast with both of them before driving into Austin.



View Leg 7: Oklahoma City in a larger map


Sixth Street isn't really terribly touristy and I found parking with ease too. Right now, I'm at this place called Moonshine, a little bit off Sixth, getting some much-needed food. Feeling a little woozy actually from hunger. It's a bit clean, this bar, I probably should have checked out something a bit more run down like the Shakespeare's Pub. Darwin's Pub was one place I walked into but Chumbawumba was playing in there, so I left. I chatted with some people outside a bar called The Library and they recommended the Moonshine and now I'm going to dig into my chicken sandwich. Leigh, who I was planning on staying with tonight, isn't feeling too well. I might give her a call and see if she wants to hang out for a bit before I drive on to San Antonio where I'm staying with Charla (another Zack connection, Charla was the girl he was dating when I moved to Stillwater and lived with him for the first time). She's been nice enough to put me up for the evening. New Orleans is tomorrow, where I'm having dinner at Clancy's, a restaurant managed (I believe) by a friend of (current roommate) Scott. I spoke with him yesterday on the phone and he was super nice so I'm looking forward to that.


View Leg 8: Austin and San Antonio in a larger map