DC: THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY

Woke up feeling pretty over the city, but I had planned to be in the capital for Independence Day (it seemed so appropriate for my American road trip), so I decided to grit it out for a couple more days. I had to move my car in the morning (DC has weird parking laws), so I found a place several blocks away that seemed good in front of a Children’s Health Center with a security guard out front. I set off trying to get in a better city mood, trying to find something that didn’t include museums or spending money.

After passing several embassies (can I technically say I was on Chilean and Peruvian soil today?), I stumbled upon the National Geographic Museum. I figured a free-admission air-conditioned museum is better than wandering aimlessly in the heat, so I explored it a bit. One room with lots of flashy pictures of lions and....that’s about it. Disappointing!

I vaguely remembered seeing posters for a folk-like festival on the Mall, so I hiked down to check it out. Lots of food vendors and music tents, looked pretty fun! I sat down and watched a Puerto Rican band for awhile, and during one of their most lively songs, the old man next to me asked me to dance! Unfortunately, he had no idea how to dance, but he had waited until the last minute of the song to ask me, so the awkward step-hopping he called salsa was very brief.

My mood was starting to lift, and I had just wandered into a tent full of Cuban music when I got a phone call.

The worst thing about a police officer calling you is that they always ask you right off the bat, “how are you today?” when they know they’re about to ruin your day. They told me my vehicle had been broken into and that I needed to come right away.

Thing was, I was all the way down at the Mall and my car was like 26 blocks away. I had no cash on me for a taxi, and no clue how to use the metro or the bus system. There are no Wells Fargo banks in DC, and I couldn’t figure out how to use my card in the other banks’ ATMs. The security guard from across the street had found my bags strewn in the middle of the street, and was holding them for me in his office, but got off work in 15 minutes and really wanted to go, so he kept on calling me and asking where I was. I held it together for about 10 minutes of this, but ended up trying to run the 26 blocks, sobbing, on my phone telling the guy I’d be right there, and stopping at every ATM I came across trying to get cash. It’s actually kind of funny in retrospect, I must have looked like a lunatic. Factoring in the city crosswalk situation didn’t help, and at one point, when an SUV decided to take aim for a large group of pedestrians of which I was a part of, I was so angry I walked right in front of the bumper, crying, with one hand holding my cell phone and one hand held up with my palm out, the universal STOP signal. The driver was so surprised, he and his passenger started mocking me, holding their palms back out to me, and I gave them attitude right back, pointing angrily to the WALK signal. It was all I could do not to try to dent their hood. In retrospect, I wish I did.

When I finally realized I could not run the entire way without getting a taxi, I actually went into a bank and asked for help getting cash. Lame, but I seriously needed help!
With my cash, I hailed a taxi and got to my car. Broken glass was everywhere, and all my bags had been opened and rifled through, but nothing had been taken!! I bet they were pretty disappointed, only finding a backpack full of books, a bag of size seven hiking boots, a bag of feminine hygiene products, and a glovebox with nothing but a can of bear spray (I really wish I could have seen their reaction to that!!) I was still really upset and SUPER over the city at this point, so I went back to Jessica’s, grabbed all the stuff the thieves WISH they’d gotten (my laptop etc), and headed to Baltimore, broken window and all, where my mom’s good friend Theresa lives. Game over, DC.

DC Day 4: Change of Headquarters

Unfortunately, Rachel and I had terrible timing, and she had to fly home for the 4th of July. I decided to transfer my city headquarters to my good friend Jessica’s apartment, who lived in a slightly different place in the city. The timing worked out that I left Rachel’s in the morning and was due at Jessica’s in the evening, so I had another day to sightsee on my own, only this time I didn’t have a secure place to leave my valuables. I’ve been told multiple times that it is a fact my car will get broken into, so I won’t leave anything super expensive or irreplaceable in the matrix. Without an apartment to leave my laptop and gps system in, I had to pack them around the city. Let me tell you, my trusty macbook pro gets heavy FAST. And my “ergonomic” computer pack is anything but. Factor in a super-hot city day, and you get a painful, sweaty, and exhausted trekker.

That evening, I was able to move the Matrix in front of Jessica’s apartment and accompanied her and her roommate to a medical-school dinner party. I’d say about 90% of the vocabulary they used went straight over my head (Yeah, I’ve got O.B. in the A.M. with G.L.S. and then H.T.Y. later....) (okay, I made that up, but that’s what it sounded like!) Fun none-the-less, and the food was good. Thanks J-Ro!

DC: Day 3

I went back for Smithsonian museums, round two. This time, I braved the metro all by myself! I have come to the (surely unfair and biased) conclusion that people in DC like to talk to themselves, judging solely on my fellow passengers: a man sang along with his ipod at full volume, and a professor (?) grading papers (?) had an ongoing conversation with herself. Innnteresting.

First, I explored the Museum of the American Indian, which was incredible. The architecture and exhibition design was equally as impressive as the artifacts that were on display. Next, I made it over to the Hirshhorn museum, which housed a variety of sculptures and modern art. One of the artists shipped glass boxes to himself within the standard fed-ex cardboard boxes, and displayed the resulting broken glass. Unfortunately, the general public didn’t seem to recognize this as a piece of sculpture (it did honestly look like the curators accidentally forgot their packages in the middle of the floor that morning), and kept walking too close to the art, continuously setting off the security sensor. A lovely soundtrack to my perusing...At this point the sky opened up into a full-on downpour, and I was stuck in the museum a bit longer than I had planned for, as I didn’t think in the 90 degree heat that morning to pack and umbrella. At right: the most alarming sculpture: a giant disgruntled nude man (stranger included in shot for scale).

After I toured the Museum of African Art and the Freer gallery, I did a quick look-see into the Smithsonian Castle and then called it quits. After eight museums in two days, I had to admit museum burnout.

DC: Adventures in the Big City

DC, Day 1

After a delicious breakfast of gluten-free blueberry muffins, Rachel took me to go see the sights. She guided me through the metro, and we walked along the National mall to see the Washington monument, the WWII memorial, the Lincoln memorial, and the white house. It was fun to see everything in real life (as you may have heard, the white house is a lot smaller than you’d expect. Still really cool, though.) Am including another one of my favorite terrible landmark shots: We asked a passerby to take a pic with us in front of the Washington Monument (see right...thanks, dude. I'm sure Rach appreciates her new hair accessory). Later, like true city girls, we had sushi for dinner.

DC, Day 2

Took the bus with Rachel to her work and she pointed me in the direction of the Smithsonian museums. Walking from the bus stop, I quickly discovered that to step into a crosswalk when the walk sign is on is to take your life into your own hands. Cars don’t stop. Ever. In fact, they will honk at YOU, leaning out the window, flipping you off and cussing at you for the very AUDACITY you had to cross the street at the right time. (Can you tell I’m extremely disturbed by this custom?) I darted like a rabbit across every street I came to, hoping I wouldn’t be picked off by the SUV that couldn’t wait 15 seconds for the light to change. Having escaped with my life, I started my sightseeing with the Museum of American History, spending a few hours looking at all kinds of artifacts, from serious and significant (the original Star-Spangled Banner) to serious and creepy (the bloodstained cuff of the actress who held Lincoln after he was shot) to just plain random (the original Kermit the frog. oh, Kermie!!). At left: Judy Garland's ruby slippers.

Ate a boiled egg and a granola bar on my way to the National Museum of Art. (No way was I going to spring for the $10 hot dogs or ice cream that were being hawked along the way!) These museums are just so vast that I didn’t even bother getting a map. My plan of action was as follows: wander in a vaguely left-and-back direction, then wander back in a right-front-ish kind of way. Saw pre-Renaissance Italian art, classic Dutch paintings, and a lot of Impressionists. Sorry, am about to art-geek out on everyone, but I saw: Gauguins, Vermeers, Cassats, Goyas, Winslow Homers, Van Goghs, the fauves, It was a lot of art to absorb, and that was only the West building! Crossed over to the East building, and was promptly reprimanded for sipping my water bottle in the lobby. (My bad, I might have spilled filtered water onto your lobby floor.) Visited my college (paper) buddies Warhol, Thiebauld, Matisse, Katz, Mondrian, Caulder, and Pollock.

After this artfest, I darted my way a few blocks up and found the National Portrait Gallery. Equally amazing. Could spend years in the museums here, but Rachel was about to get off work and happy hour was calling...

Kentucky-West Virginia--Maryland--DC

Not much to report from this drive. A lot more green. Passed through “Wild and Wonderful West Virginia” whose main industry, judging by the smell, is coal mining. The billboards, however, would have you believe that golf is the main attraction here. As neither really appeal to me, I only stopped once, in a town called Chimneyville or something like that, for gas, and then cruised right through.

I saw my first little “East-coasty” town in Maryland and have to admit may have been a tiny bit culture shocked to see so many buildings next to each other, after the sparseness of Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, and West Virginia. My grip on the steering wheel tightened considerably entering DC, what with quadruple the amount of cars I was used to quadruply close together at quadruple the speed I thought should have been appropriate for the situation. I was really afraid of being honked at, but the guy behind me leaned on his horn because I chose not to run down a family with a baby in a stroller that chose to cross the street on my green light, I realized that being honked at in the city would be inevitable, unless I felt like committing manslaughter.

I somehow found a parking spot fairly close to my step-sister Rachel’s house, and found that I had inadvertently timed my arrival perfectly with a bbq/party that she and her seven housemates were having. I lugged in my bags, was handed a cold beer and a veggie burger, and forgot all about being honked at.

DRIVIN' KENTUCKY

After leaving the farm, I took a minor detour through Metropolis, Illinois: Home of the Giant Superman Statue. (I mean, really, how could you pass that up?) It was everything I’d hoped it’d be: big. superman-y. I arrived just before a family with small kids and I could hear them yelping as soon as they got out of the car, “sooooooperman!!” The mom very generously offered to take my picture, and then had to spend a few minutes yelling at her kids to get out of the shot. It was great. As an added bonus, I got to see a cop lead a jailbird into the building the superman was in front of. Not lying. It seemed like they were old friends, talking and laughing, the guy in the yellow jumpsuit gesturing with his handcuffed hands...

After that, things got really boring. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say more boring than Kansas and Missouri. The parkway was lined with thick green forest, which, although it was very pretty, was the same for hours and hours and hours. Listened to a big chunk of my book on tape.

Heading for my stepsister’s best friend-and-her-husband’s house in Berea, Kentucky. She and her husband had to work late, but (even though I’ve never met them, bless their hearts), they told me where the key to their house was hidden and told me to make myself at home. My GPS was set to their address and I was looking forward to a quiet evening by myself.

After I stopped for gas in Bardstown, my GPS must have somehow reset itself, because it led me on an inadvertent tour of Kentucky’s ritziest neighborhoods. I should have realized, being the home of the Kentucky Derby, that there would be quite a few manicured green pastures with perfectly manicured painted fences and manicured horses with braided manes cantering about. I was led right into the heart of it, into a golf course community with giant mansions. At first I thought, wow, Rachel didn’t mention that her friend lives in a mansion! Then I realized that instead of saying "you've reached your destination, 123 Main St" or something like that, it had random coordinates highlighted. Stupid GPS.

The house, once I found it, was very cute. I met their somewhat psychotic cat Smokey right away, and he fluctuated between mewing sweetly and rubbing my leg to snapping without warning and sinking his claws into my calves and feet. He followed me into every room, even the bathroom, and (to my dismay) apparently knew how to open the bathroom door from the outside. Unsettling. I learned to lock it whenever I went in.

Beyond the cat issue, I slept very well, and unfortunately had to leave early in the morning to get to DC before dark. I never got to meet Rachel's friend at all! :( Many thanks for letting me stay there, Vivian!

PHARM PHOTOS...

oops, forgot to include a few winning shots:

proof that i drove a tractor, and my lovely hosts!

MISCELLANEOUS FARM ADVENTURES

I was on the farm for a total of seven days, and in that time managed to accomplish too many adventures to recount in detail. A quick overview of new experiences includes driving the tractor, herding errant escaped calves back into the fenced pasture, holding a chicken, peeking in on baby barn owls nesting in the barn, and touring the nearby Heron pond, a swamp complete with Cypress knees, water snakes, and angry crawdads (one accosted Sharon and I as we hiked in, waving his big claw around like he knew how to use it! Fortunately he was barely three inches tall...)

I also got to see the nearby town of Cairo (pronounced Cay-roh...) where the Mississippi river meets the Ohio river. The town used to be a hoppin’ place in the early 20th century, but race riots in the 1970’s brought the town to near ruin. Bob and Sharon pointed out the bullet holes in the police station and courthouse, and then proceeded to try to find Cairo’s hospital, which, newly built in the 70’s, was completely abandoned after the riots. As if the bullet holes and entire city blocks of abandoned and broken buildings weren’t enough to give me goosebumps, the sun was setting fast and my hosts showed no signs of turning back. We ended up cruising the projects of Cairo after dark, lost, and searching for this abandoned hospital and a place called the Magnolia Mansion. (Queue high-pitched screechy violin music here...I was pretty sure we weren’t going to make it out of Cairo.) Once located, I took quick pictures out of the car window of the dark, overgrown buildings and we set off back home. Unfortunately, a decision was made to detour to the national cemetery nearby. Normally, I’d be all for a tour of our nation’s historical dead, but as it was nearing 10pm and I still hadn’t eaten dinner, and it was pitch black outside, I have to admit I was pretty bummed about this impromptu cemetery visit. It was so dark, in fact, that we couldn’t read the giant plaque at the entrance of the graves. I took a flash picture of it and read it on my camera screen, and to my great relief, it stated “No visitors after sundown”. Phew! We turned around and went home. Below: The great confluence: Sharon sights the Ohio; I've found the Mississippi. The haunted hospital (?) and the graveyard sign. *I had to photoshop the hospital pic a bit just so you could make out the building!

A final adventure on the farm included a hike through the neighbor’s property to see a Native American cave painting. Although it was buggier beyond belief (I swear these guys were targeting my eyeballs) it was really cool to see the painting. I think I found a piece of an arrowhead in the rocks around it, too. Bonus!

THE FAILED HIKE

The second day on the farm, Sharon told me about a nearby hike that I should try. Despite a semi-creepy name (The Panther’s Den), it sounded fun. I got a little apprehensive when she pulled out a topographical map and pointed out which squiggly lines I should hike to, and even more nervous when she handed me a compass to help me get there. But: you can’t not have an adventure if you need a compass to get where you’re going!

Back in the matrix, I drove slowly along the country roads looking for the entrance to the hike. I actually drove past the little dirt road the first time, because the road sign was overgrown. Down the dirt road, turned onto a smaller, rockier dirt road, until I came to a downed tree in the middle. Bah! I got out to survey the situation and was immediately swarmed with all manner of bugs. I had to scramble for my Off! and gave myself a pretty generous dosing (who knows what those chemicals do long term? I might develop a third eye on my neck by the end of this buggy adventure). My battle of even budging the tree an inch was lost miserably. I managed to break off a few twigs but definitely battled for the right-of-way in vain. At this point I re-evaluated the distance from the ditch on the side of the road and squeeked the matrix around it. I found the forlorn, empty “parking lot” Sharon had spoke of, and looked for the unmarked trailhead she recommended, but could feel the panic rising being so far away from anywhere, down random, tree-blocked dirt roads in the middle of a southern Illinois forest. There was a sign near one of the trail heads, so as a compromise between being a brave trail-blazer and a brave trail-follower, I set off down that one.

As I tromped off down the trail, I made sure I had my compass, my map, water, a granola bar, my camera, my pocket knife, and my cell phone (though I had no reception, so moot point) at the ready. Sharon had briefed me on wildlife in the area, which included three kinds of poisonous snakes: rattlesnakes, copperheads, and cottonmouths (oh my!). I developed a weird sort of stompy-walk to scare away anything before I got there. I also walked into about 15 spiderwebs before I picked up a stick and started swirling the air in front of me to clear them before my face did. Now I was stompy-walking and stick-swirling and I’m sure I looked beyond ridiculous. In addition to my fears of deadly snakes, spiders on my face, mosquito-borne diseases (did I mention the constant hum of skeeters hoovering around me, just waiting for me to sweat off my off?), I also started fearing an encounter with a trucker-cap wearing, three-toothed, malt liquor-swigging, bowie-knife wielding local after seeing an abandoned campfire spot littered with beer cans. As each fear came to me I told myself to buck up and keep going, but at a certain point (yeah...um...15 minutes in? I didn’t last long!) I gave up, turned around, and practically ran back to my car. (Oh, and ran into all the spiderwebs AGAIN on the way back, those suckers waste no time in rebuilding!) (see top photo, I snapped a quick pic before I turned tail...)

This makes for a tidy, dramatic ending of my hike story, but I can’t leave out the following two events: First, I actually did see a snake crossing the dirt road in front of me (eeeeeew but cool but eeeeew--and it was just a black snake, no rattles or cotton or copper). Secondly, I helped a little old turtle cross the road. Good deed for the day: done.

THE FARM June 21 +

Southern Illinois is gorgeous. Rolling hills, green everywhere, fields of wheat that look like golden ocean. My destination, the farm, is owned by my cousin’s uncle Bob and his wife Sharon. They raise beef (I feel a bit rude visiting and not being red-meat eater). In addition to their 24 head of cattle or so, they have five horses (Tica, Toomba, OT, Roco, and Maya), a seeing-eye donkey named Pancho (to help guide a blind horse who has since passed), two dogs (Chrysler and Pluto), a bunch of cats (Bajadhour, Gibahn, Chicken, and Bob for starters), a few roosters (Rush, Sweatpants), bunch of chickens (no namers), Guinea hens (all are called “Guinea”), a small flock of crested ducks (only one is named: Circumstance)...I think I got it all. Below: a mishmash of farminals.

The farm is fun! I get to help out with chores like collecting eggs from the hen house, feeding the ducks, watering the cattle, and feeding the horses. I helped participate in horse-washing, which actually also includes horse-squeegee-ing. No joke. The weather here is extremely hot, hanging around the 90s everyday, which inevitably has lead to a few pond-swims. Unfortunately, the pond itself is so hot that it’s not too much of a reprieve. After a particularly hot day, Sharon and I swam in the evening before chores. As there was practically no difference between the water temperature and the outside temperature, we didn’t bother putting on clothes again to finish up on the farm...which lead to the first (and hopefully last) time I shoveled manure in a horse pen in my bikini and tennis shoes. (And no, I didn’t document this last event with a photo.)

Other notable farm tidbits: their neighbor grows tomatoes in a field that runs along the driveway. As a measure against the deer, he plays Christian talk radio 24/7, so when things are quiet in the middle of the day, you can hear faint voices. We’ve decided that he could market those tomatoes as “infused with family values”...talk about genetically engineered crops!

SOON TO COME...

Hey All,
Wow, it's been a long time since I've had internet and time to write at the same time. I'm finally finding my way out of the cornfields and am preparing for a blizzard of updates, but until then, for those of you who still think I'm somewhere in Illinois, a few highlights from what's to come:

-drivin' tractors, washin' horses, and herdin' calves in Illinois

-Museum madness and matrix security breach in DC

-crab eating lessons in Baltimore

-Potentially superdangerous wildlife encounter in Shenendoah National Park (I've got video of this one! A must-see...)

-Croquet playing with an Elvis impersonator and his family in North Carolina

-Staying in tree houses and brushing up on ukulele in Georgia

-Pancakes with my name on 'em (literally) at the Pirate Haus Hostel in Florida

-Camping at the #1 beach in the US


Stay tuned for the full updates folks! Sorry for the lag!

LAWRENCE KANSAS-- CARBONDALE, ILLINOIS

The upside of car camping in Kansas in the summer is that you don’t wake up freezing cold. Instead, it was a balmy 78 degrees with a light breeze that made for an extremely pleasant morning. The light was beautiful and the campsite had these big patches of very picturesque tall grasses (very "Kansas" in my mind). I couldn't resist a self-timed shot of myself frolicking in the meadow, but the distance was pretty good between a camera set-up and the grass, so I had to full on sprint to get in the shot. Even then, I'm barely in the frame, but I'm not in good enough shape to do multiple retakes... I had a little breakfast, repacked, and took off towards Missouri.

I gassed up in Lawrence and had my first gas station faux pas, although I maintain it was a result of faulty equipment and not human error. As I lifted the nozzle from it’s handle to the car, it shot a spontaneous burst of gasoline all over the side of my car!! Waaaaah. I had to clean it all up and the first half an hour of my drive smelled bad.

Again, the book on tape; I can’t tell you much about the drive from the gas station to the Missouri border. I passed through the childhood home of Dwight D. Eisenhower and of some astronaut I had never heard of. I saw the Gateway arch from a while away and got really exited. It’s really, really big up close. Way bigger than I expected. Which made it pretty impossible to get a good picture with it, actually. I decided to ask somebody else to get a shot for me, and the resulting photo was such a failure it is hilarious. I just thanked the guy and walked away, but I guess I should have clarified I'd like a picture of myself with the Gateway Arch, which I was conveniently standing in front of. Yeah, that silver thing in the background...I really didn't need a picture of me and sidewalk. Anyway. I also had no idea you could actually take an elevator up into it!! Had to skip that, though...no time to stand in THAT line.

I will say that Missouri has really terrible billboards. One of my personal favorites: Don’t just be a person, be a personality!! (for broadcaster positions). ...Also, there are several warning signs about slowing down in construction sites, although the presentation is a little disconcerting; they all say HIT A WORKER really big, and then $10,000 fine underneath. It seems more like an invitation, doesn’t it? It’s not IF you hit a worker, or DONT hit a worker. But hitting a worker seems like it would be a really really bad thing anyway--do people really need signs to be discouraged from this?

Missouri also has its share of pro-life billboards, but somewhat paradoxically, they have an equal amount, if not more, of XXX adult superstore billboards. Go figure.

Missouri wildlife sightings: dead armadillos on the side of the road.

Culturally: confederate flag license plates and “OBAMA: One Big Ass Mistake, America” bumper stickers. Also passed through the home of David Cook, American Idol winner 2008 (no, I don’t watch the show or care, and yes, this was on an actual highway sign--this town must be really desperate for some action).

Made it to my dad's sister's husband's brother-and-his-wife's farm (follow? from here on out I'll just call them Bob and Sharon...). So much to report from farm life it'll have to have it's own entry, soon to follow...