California, here I come! Pt. 1 - Adventures in the Midwest

Yes, this picture of the sunset was taken while driving. I was on a deadline.

I sometimes long for an office somewhere with a calendar on the wall, a rotating cast of coffee mugs and, you know, co-worker friends. There is one massive advantage to working from home, though, and that's the fact that "home" can be anywhere. I've illustrated this point to myself pretty clearly this summer by embarking on my first adventure west of the Mississippi River. After begging to cover Comic-Con in San Diego, California, and eventually having my assignment confirmed I made a major decision: Why fly when I could drive?
In retrospect, a sane person and more experienced road-tripper would have allotted a little more time to get from Ohio to California. I, however, decided I could absolutely do the 34 hour drive in two days. And I almost did, too.

Except I got a little caught up in Colorado. It's hard to not.

Before reaching Colorado, I drove though a snippet of Indiana and Illinois (nothing new there). Then it was on through Iowa... home of Hawkeyes and best friends. Iowa is quite pretty. No matter how you picture it, you're probably spot on. If you've ever lived in or drove through the Midwest, you already know what Iowa looks like. It's nothing spectacular... but it was road I'd never traveled surrounded by the green of farms.

The previously mentioned best friend once told me how grain silos have a tendency to explode. I just barely passed Physics a million and a half years ago, but it has something to do with the silos being poorly ventilated. The dust particles in the air inside the silo then latch onto any sort of ignition and end up making one big bang. Apparently this happened quite a bit in Iowa when my friend was growing up so I spent nearly all of my time in Iowa looking into the distance hoping to catch a 'sploding silo. No such luck.

I still thoroughly enjoyed the drive, though, and felt only slight regret when I crossed the border from Iowa into Nebraska... another state I'd never visited.

Right on the border of Iowa and Nebraska, is Council Bluffs and it's there that I discovered the most interesting display of agricultural landscaping I'd ever seen. Large ridges were cut from the earth, creating fields that looked like wide, curving and elongated staircases. In my infinite ignorance, I also decided they must be why the area was called Council Bluffs. These were "the council bluffs." To my defense, I had an absolutely awful geography teacher in seventh grade. I imagine that when she was giving us the definition of a bluff, I was most likely writing a note to my best friend April giving a very detailed recounting of a daydream I had about our most favorite band in the world: Hanson.  That's the only excuse I have for thinking that bluffs were nothing more than recurring two foot drops in the earth's surface.

I've looked it up, though. It's actually a system of "terraced farming." You'll see it a lot in the rice fields in Asia. The terraces allow for better irrigation. The water runoff moves slower. That not only helps the fields to use as much of the water as possible and no doubt pull more nutrients from it, but it also helps to counteract erosion caused by said runoff. This is according to the Department of Agriculture, of course. So it must be true.

Technically, this picture was taken in Colorado. Close enough.

I stopped for the night at rest stop just west of Fort Kearney. It was the kind of purposefully poor lit place that welcomed the likes of, well, me. It hosted multiple cars and trucks full of weary travelers. I pulled my tiny, bright yellow Fiat into a space two down from a comfortably resting Jeep, crawled over into the passenger's seat and dreamed of sleeping soundly in a hotel bed in California.

During my hours at the rest stop, my much-needed sleep was interrupted numerous times.

First, I accidentally kicked my horn and no doubt woke-up all of my fellow travelers.

Later, a humongous diesel pick-up pulled into a spot directly beside me and almost took out my car. There was so much wrong with that occurrence, I had to sit there or a while and seethe. First, there were a million other parking spaces that weren't directly beside me... or anyone else. Second, have you ever seen a Fiat in the wild? They're miniscule. You could fit two in one parking space. If you're pulling into an adjacent spot and can't manage to avoid almost collecting a yellow streak down the side of your manhood-defender, you shouldn't have a license... much less insist on driving something so massive.  The driver, his bimbo and their equally huge dog weren't staying the night but just stopping for pit stop. After 10 minutes of fuming to myself and another five of trying to calm down and go back to sleep, I had to sit up, again, and watch(/glare) as they backed out and, again, almost ran over my car.

Then, a semi pulled in on the other side of the median. I watched for 10 minutes as he rocked between forward and reverse until he fit his 18-wheeler between two other rumbling, slumbering trucks. Despite all the minutes wasted while people-watching though my sleep-crusted eyelids, I woke up at 6 a.m. ready for  brand new day. And another new state.

The Colorado border was just a little ways up the road and I was on a mission.

(To be continued...)

Lord, I was born a Ramblin' Girl

Speaking of not being as well-traveled as some people think: I’ve never been out of the country. Recently, I’ve had multiple concerts in Canada that I’ve been tempted to go to, but…it seems like such a waste for my first trip out of the country to be Canada. There are so many places out of the country that I’d like the chance to see.

Even as a kid in primary school my idea of an epic adventure was to go to Ireland. I think that’s why I don’t want to go to Canada first. I’ve loved Ireland for the entirety of my life and I’m bound and determined to make Ireland the very first stamp on my passport. I don’t want to just visit Ireland, either. I want to explore it. I want to see every inch of those shockingly green hills, crawl out to the edge of every windy cliff and get wasted in absolutely all the best pubs. I want to hang out with chubby, ruddy-cheeked old men and ask them about “The Troubles.” (Read: The conflict between Protestant and Catholic Irishmen) I want to take a black cab tour of Belfast. I want to see the Jameson factory in Dublin. But I want to hit all the tiny east coast villages, too. I won’t be happy until I can stay a week in a nice little bed and breakfast (or, you know, a castle) and just…write.

Of places I’m okay just visiting-France is at the top of my list. I know everyone swoons over Paris, and I suppose I’d like to see it, but it’s not at the top of my list. Nope. The only place in France that makes me swoon is Versailles. Sweet Jesus, that place is gorgeous. In ‘Marie Antoinette’ Sophia Coppola did an excellent job of highlighting enormous parts of the Palace of Versailles and the gardens that surround it. Even the parts that weren’t actually filmed in the Palace seem to be fairly accurate representations. Even still, I want to see it in person. I want to walk on the same steps as Marie Antoinette, no matter how controversial she may be. Revolutionary events took place on those grounds. I want to stand there and try to channel in on the rumblings of thousands of angry people. Nothing gets me more excited than reliving civil unrest!

As completely unaware as this next sentence is going to seem: I want to go surfing in Africa. I know that there are probably more selfless things to do in Africa and I certainly wouldn’t mind doing that, too. However, I want to surf. Blame it on my growing up in South Florida or on my high school obsession with Endless Summer (also probably to blame on growing up in South Florida), but that’s what I want the most. I’d mainly like to visit Barra Point, off the coast of Mozambique. It’s known for having spectacular waves over a rocky, coral-ly ocean floor. Honestly, it’s above my skill-level. But you can bet your ass I plan on going out there. Worst case scenario…I die. But, dude, what a story for my family to tell! Stranger, “How’d your daughter die?” Mom, “She was crushed against a rock by a wave while surfing off the coast in Africa.” It’s right up there with all the times, when I was younger, that the fighting reared up in Ireland and I ached to go see the action for myself. It’s not about wanting to die-it’s wanting to live. Death is a small price to pay, as we all have to pay it at some point.

This is getting heavier than I meant. I think I’ll continue this later. I don’t want to overwhelm you…or myself.

Just a Small Town Girl, Dreamin' of Seein the WO-ORLD!

Jenny recently referred to me as “well-traveled.” Honestly, I scoffed. In the last few years, after having finally gotten my hands around the steering wheel of a reliable car, I’ve made the rounds to some nearby places. Yes, New York is 12 hours away and, yes, New Orleans is 14 hours away. Still, they weren’t in any way foreign or exotic. I’d been to New Orleans before and I’d lived two (horrible) summers of in New York. I’ve not been east of New York, not west of New Orleans in the south or Milwaukee in the north. Also, most of the places I’ve visited have been for “rocket trips”-I’ve graced most cities for less than 24 hours. Plus, there’s not really anything all that unique or mysterious about places like Atlanta, Philadelphia or Chicago and the highways I take to get there are all ones I’ve traveled a multitude of times. I realize that my list of places I’ve been is far longer than some people’s lists. However, when it’s compared to the list of places I haven’t been and all the roads I’ve yet to travel-I look pretty damn sheltered. Even in the states, I’ve been to less than half the states. I want to visit almost all of them, though some more than others.

I’ve not been to Texas. Everyone I know who has been to or lived in Texas promises me that I’m not missing anything. I say the same thing about Florida, though, and people still go. I want to experience the kind of heavy heat that makes you start sweating the minute you open the car door. I want to see cacti! I want to smell to know what breathing dry air feels like-it’s a totally foreign concept to me. I want to two-step in an old barn-turned-bar, hit up South-by-Southwest, confront a rattlesnake (at a very safe distance and I most certainly do not want to touch it), and camp out under the stars as I make my way on I-10 through the very middle of the state.

I want to live in Colorado even though, you know, I’ve never been there. I want to be out-numbered by Subarus as I circle my way up to mountaintops. Then, I want to not to break my neck as I snowboard by way back down. Renting one of those “ski-in” chalets sounds like the most glorious thing ever, even though I doubt I have the athletic coordination to manage skis. (I know what you’re thinking. But, I’ve heard that if you can surf, you can snowboard. Since I haven’t killed myself trying to surf, I imagine that means I’ll survive trying to snowboard.) This might be the strangest thing ever, but I want to see mansions in Colorado. I picture these magnificent structures made of pine and river rock with steps made of flagstone. I have no idea what exactly flagstone looks like, but it my head it’s beautiful. Also, Colorado seems like a state with a lot of greens and oranges in its landscape. I’ve grown up with a lot of blues and greys, so I welcome the change.

Then there is the entire west coast. From cold green dampness of Washington and Oregon, through the forested part of California, all the way down to the plastic-y, beach-y part. I want to take one long drive that lasts a week or two and see it all. Apparently, Seattle is one of the few places in America where lavender grows as successfully as it does in Italy. I want to see it, and maybe try for myself. I want to kayak through choppy black waters (and hopefully not die.) and surf off rocky, cliffed beaches. I also want to see the Full House house, go down that super curvy road and hang out with the California set of surfers. I’ve heard they’re a million times more chill than the ones in Florida.

Of course, it’s important to note that I can’t imagine flying to any of these places. I would consider it, of course, if I were making another one of my rocket trips. But, ultimately, I’d love to drive all the way out there. In other words, I’d be hitting other places along the way. I’d spend a day at the cowboy museum, check out the memorial for the Oklahoma City Bombing, do the St. Louis Arch and, of course, take a stroll around the Grand Canyon. Basically, in a whole month I probably still couldn’t cover all of the United States that I’m most eager to visit. Then there’s my international wish list! But, I’ll save that for another day.