Travel Log 2009-Welcome

May 20, 2009

For many of you this is a welcome back, so you already know what you're in for because you've been on this list before. For others of you, welcome, for the first time.

In case you don't know what I'm talking about, I keep a travel log/newsletter when I travel. Although it will be a little bit over a month until I'm on roads and planes and trains again, but I figured I would start out early. Also, if you are receiving this, it means that you are an important person in my life and I would like to keep in touch with you. In other words, please write back. Even though this is a mass mailing, if you write back, I'll answer you personally. Also, if this is not the email address that you would prefer me to be sending this to, please let me know and I'll switch it.

I just arrived back in Georgia yesterday. I took a ride share with a random Craig's List person. Yeah, I know. Sounds sketchy, but it worked out really well and it was the cheapest way possible to get four years of my life (after selling all of my furniture, including the bed I'm obsessed with) from Worcester, Mass back to Marietta, Georgia. 1,079 miles from doorstep to doorstep. The trip was good. The only problem is that I got sick this morning and am running a fever of over 103. Don't ask me how I'm alive and coherent right now. I don't understand it either.

Just to preface you, the traveling I will be doing begins on July 1. I fly to England to visit my family there, then to Germany for a Jewish Studies program ten days later, and then to Luxembourg for about ten days at the end of August; and then, if all goes well and visas go through, Israel for the year for one program or other. I will keep you posted on that.

Anyhow, I wrote on the way home while in the car yesterday. It's appropriate for this log. Just as a warning, these newsletters/logs/updates are anything from extremely factual to emotional reactions to whatever craziness happens in life.

May 19, 2009

On the road again. I-85 South. 1.5 states away from what I finally consider home base. It figures. I spent my whole life running away from the South. Four years of Worcester, Massachusetts teaches its lessons. I may love the cold, but with the cold comes the unrelenting ice. I got buried this year. Too much. Time to move on.

The South is green and clean and perfect strangers say hello and smile. Southern hospitality may be a show but we are what we pretend to be, at least in part.

The window is open and the wind is in my face--just the way I like it. Ahead of me, the open road and a destination. On this trip I've learned a few things: don't worry, four years of accumulation (and then some) will fit in the back of a stranger's pick-up truck; thee is a road code among truckers, a whole language of which I never was aware until ten hours ago; tractor-trailer piggy-backs and their illegality in most places in the Northeast, but get to Texas and the rest of the West and piggy-backs, double, triple, rule the road. It's good knowledge for Early Silver.

This road cuts through the twin cities: Raleigh/Durham and Chapel Hill is on the signs. I still think of Eve.

Tonight, or this afternoon--it's 11:06am--I'll be home. I was so excited at the prospect of that yesterday, that I went through everything and changed my permanent address back to Georgia. Farewell Worcester.

When I drive, I count license plates and keep a tally of how many and from where. Ohio, Indiana, etc. One Ontario. In Luxembourg two years ago, there was a car with plates from Cobb County, Georgia, like me. I guess some people do drive across the ocean. West Virginia. The miles slip by quickly. Like people.

My life is a series of episodes, like anyone's: hellos, goodbyes, and an acceptance of transience, impermanence. I love it. I find people everywhere. I love them. I keep them if they keep me, or I let them go.

This ride was taking a risk. One-thousand-and-seventy-nine miles of driving in a car with someone I've never met before. It's been good. The flowers on the side of the road are beautiful, red, pink, white, orange, purple. In the back, resting on Martin's case is a baby pit bull, "Caesar the Pleaser," with about an eight of terrier in him. Nicest dog ever. Another bit of knowledge: pit bulls have weak immune systems, apparently. One tick bite could finish them off before anyone figures out what hit them. Mike's tips (my driver) Lived all along the East Coast. By the accent, a pure-bred Bostonian.

God, I haven't seen a Food Lion in ages. I don't think Atlanta has them. But NC, Raleigh/Durham does.

The road stretches. Greensboro. Elon University. I ignored their attempts to recruit me. I needed to blast past Mason-Dixon. Clark was the right choice. Better than that: the perfect choice. The only choice. Not even on my radar until Dad dragged me to a college fair. (Thank you.)

Charlotte, NC. Charlotte, the street I just moved away from. We check the GPS. It wants to reroute us again. A nasty and annoying habit it has. Takes us around in unnecessary loops. Mike and I discuss how it's a conspiracy of petroleum companies in league with the Tom-Tom company. Do a little round-about, what do we know? Blow a couple hundred miles, more gas needed, profit gained, we go bankrupt. Perfect plan. I trust human intuition and road signs more than the program anyway. We defy it. It adjusts to us.

322 miles to go.
196.3 miles to go. South Carolina. So close to the Georgia border. They've been digging up the ground here and red clay is everywhere. When i was younger, I used to dig it up and mush it around in my hands. The land stretches out here. No clutter. Breathing room. Trailer parks. Little matchbox houses line the highways. Water tower shaped like a peach. yes, in Gaffiney, South Carolina. Don't be fooled by the myth. Georgia is the peanut state, it just doesn't look good on a license plate. Prison inmates everywhere--doing roadside clean-up. Shearing the meadows.

Ahead of us, mountains. The Appalachian Trail runs through here. I'm almost home.