Back East

We've covered a lot of ground on our zig-zag back to Richmond, but right now there's less than a week until I'll be back for the winter. After leaving Houston we made a straight shot for New Orleans Saturday and made it there in the early evening. As I would soon find out, there are no alcohol laws in Louisiana. Well there may be some, but most of the normal ones don't really apply. So our "low key night out" turned (after a few drinks called "hand grenades") out less low key than expected. Several jazz clubs, bars, clubs, dance parties, casinos, and impromptu street drinking songs later, I realized it was 6:30AM and I should get back to the van before the sun came up. Having gotten all that out of my system we found some good cajun food (jambalaya and alligator po' boys) and I went for a good long 13mi run in Audobon Park. The parts of the city where tourists end up have pretty well recovered from the Hurricane destruction with almost no trace that a disaster even happened. A lot of other non-tourist laden parts of the city (the 9th Ward most certainly included) are still pretty much in ruins. Abandoned houses with National Guard spray painted "tattoos" still on them are everywhere.

New Orleans is an area that's been hit pretty hard between that and the oil spill, though if you never leave the French Quarter, you'd never know it. We started up the road to Jackson, MS. Mississippi is, in a word, depressing. We spent less than 2 days there, and everyone we met was very friendly, but it doesn't take long in Mississippi to find out almost everyone there is poor, obese, bored, or tired of living there. We got a lot of attention at the Jackson Wal-Mart where we parked our van. Lots of high-school kids, locals, friends of high-school kids who were sent there specifically to see the van. And they all wanted to take a picture of it. They all also wanted to know "why the Hell did you want to come here?" which we answered by telling them we were coming from New Orleans, headed to Memphis. Jackson isn't a very popular tourist destination I guess.

Robert had a college friend in Memphis we stayed with for 2 nights, we went out on Beale Street, hit a couple other local spots and got some good barbeque. Oh, and we went to Graceland. Which, yes, is every bit as tacky as you'd expect it to be, plus a good dose of awesome. Here's a fun fact about Memphis: everyone jaywalks. And not just normal "oh, nobody's coming, how about I cross the street here" kind of jaywalking, more like they jump out in front of your car at night forcing you to slam on the brakes to narrowly avoid hitting them. It's a cultural thing I guess. Memphis, like Mississippi, is also still incredibly segregated. It's not institutional anymore, but it is definitely still there. Besides living in neighborhoods defined basically by race, there seemed to be almost zero social interaction between blacks and whites. Still. In 2010. And this is coming from a suburban white kid raised in Virginia; not exactly the most racially integrated setting either, but it's got nothing on the segregation still in the deep South. It was a whole other level of racial divide I wasn't really expecting. I thought that died out in the 70's sometime. Nope.

Turns out we have a lot of friends in Illinois, most of which we missed on our way out West, eager to get past the Rockies at least. So we took our time thru the Land of Lincoln this time, first stopping for a few days with Caitlin's parents, Bruce and Maryanne, in Carbondale. Southern Illinois reminded me a lot of western Virginia with the hills and leaves changing the weekend we were there. You're still out in the country, but not just in an endless array or cornfields. Driving the Chrismans around in the magical mystery bus, I got some good stories out of them about how they moved from California to Southern Illinois to start a communal farm and drop out of consumer society back in the day. And how Bruce became radicalized by the government's process of trying to undermine his personal beliefs and send him to Vietnam. They liked the idea of our trip; Maryanne thought the van was pretty much a throwback to 40 years ago. This gave me a lot to think about. After a run thru Amish country and a potluck breakfast with some senior citizens, we headed down the road to Bloomington-Normal. It was good to see my friend Mel there, who I hadn't seen since college. I got to introduce her to the van and catch up on old news. That's a really fun part of the trip; you get to see all these people you haven't seen in forever but wouldn't necessarily make a dedicated trip just to visit for a day. Like your own personal disjointed high school / college reuinion except you get to pick the most interesting people. Traveling gives you the excuse to reconnect with people you've lost touch with.

You know that good high school friend you had who moved to Arizona/Oregon/Montana/wherever and you never talk to anymore? You're not going to buy a plane ticket to see them for a weekend (and they might think it a little weird if you did...), but if you call them up and tell them you're driving across the country and just happen to be in their area, chances are they'll jump at the chance to try to meet up.

So then we're up in Central Illinois and we met up with Cy for a couple days. He showed us all around U of I and got us in some interesting places like his graduate lab where he knew most everyone and could show us some of the projects they had going on there. Robert and I both tried controlling his paraglider wing in the wind and then chased him around the cornfields in a truck when he went for a ride with the propellor and motor strapped to his back. Powered paragliding. Looks like a lot of fun, you don't need a license, and in Champaign, he just uses any road around as a runway.

Here we had a few days between central Illinois and Chicago, so we headed up to Madison, Wisconsin to meet up with our friend John we met at Burning Man. He's a character for sure. He's like a 20 year old basically, tho he's a doctor in his mid-forties and has a wife and 2 teenaged sons. He still has a lot of fun. Enough to embarrass the shit out of his teenage sons. John is one of the people I met this summer I know I'll keep in touch with. He took us squirrel hunting near his church and we drove there in a Prius with a bumper sticker in Arabic (he's fluent) on the back. Defying all stereotypes for sure. We went to a Wisconsin fish fry and within 30 seconds John had somehow bypassed the crowd to get fish to go so we could go on a brewery tour and also convinced 2 girls to give me and Robert Polka dance lessons. He's an expert in bullshit. He told us how he took his wife to Haiti for their honeymoon (he flew there himself) and convinced the hotel she was a Duchess so they could get the Presidential Suite at the fanciest hotel there. He's got some stories.

Next, we headed to Chicago for round 2. More on that later.

169 Days
26,635mi
Richmond is in sight...

Life Post-Canadian Rejection

Two events have influenced broadly our experience over the past few weeks: our rejection at the Canadian border and our planned finale in Cincinnati, OH. The former bumped us ahead of schedule by about a week, erasing time we’d planned to spend in Banff and Edmonton. And we’re locked into our weekend finale the weekend before Halloween due to our friends’ schedules. For better and for worse, this has meant we’ve had more time on our hands to cross through TX, New Orleans, up to Memphis, IL, and finally on to Cincinnati.

In response I’ve called on about all friends I could think of for entertainment and to pursue the possibility of visiting. Saw a bunch of people in Austin: Greg Topscher, a high school friend, Matt and Kristine Kilanski, my college and DC friends, as well as Jackie DiBiasie, another college amiga. By visiting with old friends, not only are you able to catch up but you also get a great glimpse into other people’s lives. For example, I enjoyed hanging out with Matt and Kristine and their dogs. On a deeper level, though, I achieved some more perspective on my life through learning about theirs. It’s helpful to witness the paths my peers have chosen, like Matt and Kristine who are newlyweds and have things like a home and concrete goals. By injecting myself into their lives for a day or two, I can reflect on questions such as “What are my friends doing that I wish to incorporate into my life, now that I’ve wiped the slate clean?”

We caught up with the ever-pleasant Riley Barnes in College Station. My Texan advisors were correct that there’s not a whole lot to the college town, which feels as if it’s popped out of the fields over the past decade. Ingeniously, Riley has sidestepped this factor by finding a delightful garage apartment in the country. Driving out there took me back to Lexington, to the house parties at the Dojo, his old country house just outside town. I was pleased to hear he’s leaning toward coming to DC after graduation. More East Coast friends!

One more stop separated us from New Orleans: Houston. No surprises there. The city was as expansive as expected, good and hot with the first signs of humidity I’d felt in a long time. Spent plenty of time on the interstate, first heading into town to check it out, then back west to Katy, where we stayed with a friend of my DC friend David. The friend, Jake, lives in a brand new subdivision on the outskirts in Katy. We had a very pleasant stay in his nice, new home.

New Orleans provided a welcome change of pace. We headed down the highway, over channels and through swamplands and bayous, eventually getting to the lake and downtown. For the next three nights, we made a downtown Wal-Mart parking lot our motel. This Wal-Mart made for a handy home base due to its close proximity to the good stuff: the French Quarter, downtown, the Garden District, Audubon Park, and Tulane’s campus.

With Matt’s GPS in hand we navigated on foot into the French Quarter, down St. Charles Ave. across Canal St. eventually to Bourbon St. Being a Saturday night, things were hopping. Dressy groups of thirty-somethings strolled down the street with gleeful expressions and grenade cocktails in hand. Packs of college students mingled in the bars and on balconies chucking beads and taking test tube shooters. Music streamed out of the bars, where bands were at work entertaining all the partygoers who had one thing in common: a hunger for FUN. We grabbed to-go drinks and pizza slices and hopped from place to place before getting separated. Eventually I ran out of energy and disposable cash and cabbed it back to Wal-Mart and went to sleep. Matt had a lengthier evening which he can tell you about if he wants, haha.

We explored for two more days, trying some of the famous cuisine like gumbo, jambalaya, gator and crawfish sandwiches. Beyond the French Quarter, Audubon Park was another highlight. Along with lots of residents and college students we ran around the path and hung out. I took a great walk through Garden District homes and admired the historic architecture so well preserved. New Orleans came off as an energetic city, with a lot to offer any visitor or resident. Rounding out our cultural experience there, we sat through two sessions of traditional, completely acoustic jazz at the Preservation Hall. Sure, the tickets were expensive and the hall looked a little overly “distressed” to be entirely authentic, but the music was good and the old players put on a fine show.

That day, out of curiosity, I drove through the Ninth Ward to gauge its progress in recovering from Katrina. We found some chilling scenes of vacant homes with rescuers’ scrawl still on the sides. Plenty of other old homes looked to be in decent shape, but these abandoned homes still sit on many blocks. Not knowing the condition of the neighborhood prior to Katrina, I am not one to judge its recovery status. Let’s hope residents, government, private groups, etc. are continuing to pay the city’s neighborhoods the attention they deserve so the residents can rebuild their lives.

During this period, as we were moving along and crossing plans off the list, a troubling feeling began to seep into my days. Fairly often we began finding ourselves with an excess of time on our hands. I found myself daydreaming about the past and the future while letting the present slip by. Doubt and worry crept in and maintained a burdensome presence on my mind. I suppose this is a trend that began at Burning Man, where I spent a lot of time reflecting on my experiences. Five months in I’ve begun to feel a little bit of burn-out, plus a longing to be in a more permanent home closer to more friends and family. So I’ve resolved simply to enjoy our stops for the remainder of the trip, until we get to that final weekend in Cincinnati. Time will move us forward.

Staying Awhile

Note: Here's a bit of a departure from my normal what/where/when style; this is mostly reflection and commentary at the end of the summer. Let me know what you think (whether this is boring or interesting), I'll fill you in on the details of Texas and Louisiana soon!



When I was in school or working I had to plan out my life. Well, it was planned very well for me. Now, there really aren't any milestones on the horizon at all. It's a strange thing to do to your mind, and I've found I can only do it for so long, until I plant a point out there to get to, whether it's being in Louisiana on Saturday or planning a cross-country bike trip next summer. That doesn't mean it's actually going to happen; life is unpredictable, everyone knows that. Trying to plan your future too much is a mistake; even more so when travelling. Most people get used to some uncertainty about the future; you have to. I'm trying to get used to complete uncertainty about the future. Everything becomes exciting when you let go of that security and admit you have no idea what you're going to do and just see what happens. I'm still trying to do that. Trying to stop planning a way to get back to a place I recognize and just completely let go, enjoy the ride, and see where life takes me. It always seems to be somewhere better than I could have planned anyway. I definitely feel a lot less constrained to only a few possibilities for the future. There's the other side of it tho; sometimes it can get pretty overwhelming if you genuinely let all the possibilities in. But those possibilities all actually exist, whether you want to recognize it or not. So, overwhelming as it may be, I'm trying to realize them and stop confining myself to such a narrow future by not adhering to the implied middle-class American constraints of following a definite white-collar career path, settling down, spending money, buying a house with a white picket fence... I could do that, sure, but I'm out for something more interesting, and I hope, more likely to make me happy.



That said, I'm finding I can only live like this for so long, at least in one dose. I'm meeting tons of new people, having ups and downs and all kinds of interesting experiences, but, aside from Robert, nobody can relate to them. My new friends and experiences are spread all over the place, and none of them have any context for who I am either. Even simple things add up, like not having a routine. Maybe I had too much of a routine before, but now I have nothing! I'd like to be able to take a shower when I want to, sleep in a bed where I'm not worried about the police running me off, go to the gym, get back into good running shape, watch TV, have an apartment, meet some friends for dinner, actually have real relationships with people for more than a few days, and do some work and feel productive. I need to take some time and just enjoy being in one place for a while. I'll take some time to reflect and then just decide where I'm going from here; no need to over-think it. More travelling, re-entering the workforce, grad school, or starting something completely new... these are all things I'm interested in, I'm just not sure how much, in what respect, or in what order... One step at a time.

On the practical side of things, Robert has decided to spend the winter in Richmond. He'll be back in late October. I'll get some part-time work over the winter somewhere (either NC or somewhere new depending on how I feel after a good dose of the East Coast). I'm looking forward to staying in one spot for a little while, wherever it is. Generally just being able to appreciate a lot of things that are impossible to do on the road. But then I'm going to wander some more. Not sure where yet, but here are some ideas I have for next year:

- cross-country bicycle ride (maybe I can convince Mikey to go with me)
- hiking the John Muir Trail thru the High Sierra (probably solo, to do some thinking)
- entering Zion in Utah thru the Virgin River Narrows Canyon (some other Jaskots involved?)
- mountain biking tour of the American SW
- driving a slow lap around the Great Lakes (if Canada will let me in...)


"Like the old joke about hitting yourself with a hammer because it feels so good when you stop, so part of the vagabond life is staying somewhere awhile." - Ed Buryn, Vagabonding in America, 1973

152 Days
23,965mi

A Bar in Austin, TX (Guitar Tongue)

We had another free night in Austin and wanted to hear some more live music. The previous night we discovered Sixth St., which is loaded with bars and dives and music halls. So we strolled into a big, open old bar where a band was already at work. The feature that night was the house band plus “friends.” The house band didn’t need the backup; their blues performances would demolish plenty other acts in comparison. Yet, because they’re a few of the flock of talented musicians in Austin, they essentially work for free, presumably out of love either for the act or the music. All the individuals involved added some peculiar character to the band—some more than others.

Mike Milligan, a spry black man, led the band’s first incarnation with a sharp voice and energetic harmonica solos. He bopped around, plugged the band, introduced songs. He sang some fine tunes about the Mississippi and having the blues. The group’s instrumental star, the guitarist, nodded along, looking like a young Robert Plant except with lots of baby fat. He’d step up and wedge solos into the songs, working the solos until the band caught up in intensity and he could explode with musical energy. The younger drummer and the bassist, who looked like he belonged on the Sopranos, kept the rhythms moving with tight precision.

At this point the band pivoted. Things were about to get a little more surreal. Several guys left and others took their places. First, an obese man in a silk kimono shirt (who looked a lot like Barney Frank) took over the guitar and vocals. He sang like he thought he was Roy Orbison, quivering up and down scales while strumming his blues guitar. Barney gave us probably four or five songs. I thought this was the height of live entertainment, but I was wrong. Senator Frank eventually tired and was replaced by an Asian man, dressed in black with a red tie, who’s surely of AARP age.

Like all the others, this guy could kill with his instrument (electric guitar) and was a great singer. He sang slightly dirty R&B with a Stevie Ray Vaughn drawl and cackle. Then he played one of his own compositions with the punchline “Who says a Chinese man can’t play the blues?” “I’ve been living in Texas all my life” he sang, “and people still ask me where I’m from!”

His next move was a shocker, though. He jumped over the stage banister and grabbed a metal chair off the floor. For this solo he balanced the chair in his left hand, using the leg as a slide. It wasn’t bad, either! Instantly the audience were off their feet in his face, smartphones in hand, capturing photos the bizarre scene.

Upping the ante, the Chinese bluesman broke into a guitar solo played with his tongue. It was awkward watching the guy standing with his guitar pressed against his face, playing the solo and holding his picking hand free. I just hope he’s up to date on his tetanus shots. He went in for round two in the next song. Maybe the crowd didn’t react sufficiently. This time he hopped onto the stage railing, flipped his guitar horizontally, stuck his tongue out and slobbered another solo. Remarkably the tongue solos seemed just as good. I laughed when I glanced at a table nearby and a young blonde girl, obviously on a date, cringed in disgust. They fled the scene within minutes.

- September 27, 2010