beautiful grime.

it took me over nine hours to get from chicago to pittsburgh. the driving didn’t really bother me – it was the toll booths. there were so many of them – i’ve never seen anything like it. plus, they really kept you on your toes, because they all had different rules. some were $0.65, while some were $10.50. some accepted cards, while some only took cash or ‘personal checks’.

what is a check? i thought checks were fictional, and only used by old women, and wealthy men in hallmark movies. i think someone needs to tell middle america that no one uses checks anymore.

after a dark, windy, drizzly drive past neon bar signs and bearded, cut-off jean wearing man-boys leaning up against brick walls smoking cigarettes, i finally arrived at rachel’s house. rachel used to be the manager of the coffee shop i worked at, and she moved back here to pittsburgh last winter.

we went and had a lovely dinner down the street, drank wine, and caught up on the last few months.

her house is incredible. it is called a ‘row house’, which is a term that i had never heard before. these types of houses are very thin and tall. washrooms are located on the bottom floor, because factory workers would need to be able to come in and wash their boots off. the house has been decorated beautifully by rachel, her twin sister, and her fiance.

i spent my first day walking around her area. it is called lawrenceville, or ‘l-ville’, and i reckon i could just curl up and live here forever. it is industrial without being dirty. so much brick. so much history. i can only describe it by saying it is beautifully grimy.

that night, her sister caitie came over with her wife bee. we had dinner, and more wine, and fantastic pesto pasta. rachel can cook, i’ll bet you guys didn’t know that.

the next day, friday, i wanted to explore downtown. it is walkable, but i decided to get the bus experience. i got on, fumbled with my coins, and giggled to the entirely un-amused bus driver. it had been a while since i did the bus thing. after depositing my $2.25, i walked to the back of the bus. looking up across the aisle, i noticed this sweet looking boy around my age. he was wearing worn running shoes (which under normal circumstances is considered by me to be a huge fashion faux pas), was all pimply, base-ball cap wearing, and so super charming. he grinned at me from over his magazine. i grinned back, one nerd to another. understanding. at the next stop, he got up, said thank you to the bus driver and got off. the doors closed and the bus started moving, i looked out the window, and he waved.

the bus rumbled down the street, and when we got about 4 blocks down the street i got up and went to the bus driver.

“can you please stop the bus?” i said. “please? i need to get off.”

he gave me a strange stare, but he let me off.

it had just occurred to me that this was like a scene out of a zooey deschanel movie. i was supposed to have stricken up bashful conversation with him, and he was supposed to show me ‘his’ pittsburgh, and then i would have taken him to the andy warhol museum, and the sun would have set as we were skipping along the train tracks together, hand in hand.

i looked around and didn’t see him. i set off in the direction i assumed he would be going in, and looked around. about ten minutes later, i had completely lost him, and in turn, gotten completely lost myself. it is probably for the best because i don’t know exactly what i would have said, had i actually found him.

i figured out where i was, shook the whimsical bug out of my hair, and got back on my downtown path.

first stop – the andy warhol museum. admittedly, until today, i didn’t know that he was from here, but it’s true. on august 6th 1928, andrew warhola was born right here in pittsburgh, pennsylvania. rad.

the museum was incredible. whattaguy.

i also got to check out the mattress factory museum, by recommendation of lauren d, which was equally as incredible. especially since i got to walk through the mexican war streets to get there.

that night we met up with a few more of rachel’s friends at a ‘bluegrass in the park’ type deal. bread&hummus&grapes goodness.

today, i walked through a beautiful cemetery in a different part of town, and when i was fully saturated in sweat, i decided to plop down in this here cafe, and get this post up, finally.

 

right now, i am heading to brooklyn.

 

CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE IT? I MADE IT.

a tad xenophobic, but it’s ok.

here is a mini post, before i post my pittsburgh / rachel g post. just thought you guys deserved to hear some of the bad, along with the good, of traveling.

a couple of days ago, on my last night in chicago, i hit a low point. i was terribly homesick, and i had absolutely no idea what to do about it. not only did i not want to go be social with my fellow hostel-ers, but to be honest, it felt like a complete impossibility.

one thing i have always relied on as a strong suit of mine, has been my ability to be social.

all the time.

with virtually any one.

all of a sudden, however, i found myself avoiding people at all costs. if i wanted to get water from the kitchen, i would wait until no one was in sight, and i would sneak in and sneak out.

it freaked me the fuck out.

who as this girl? who had i become?

had the solidarity of road life turned me into an introvert?

a friend of mine reminded me that the more you read and write, the more of a xenophope you became. so, maybe that was what was happening.

i have my own theory, too. i think it might be a subconscious defense mechanism. i think that after forming so many 2-5 day long friendships and relationships over the last three months, and then having to say goodbye, my heart has been going through a lot of wear and tear. you have to constantly be ‘on’. constantly funny/witty/interesting. it’s like being in a three month long speed dating party, and frankly, it is exhausting. i was really missing being home where you can sit with a friend and not say a word. the quiet comfort of home.

i think, maybe, my heart needed a little break.

i picked up my phone and called one of my closest friends. i just needed to hear his voice. i thought it would make things better – and momentarily, sure, it did. but then i just missed home even more, because talking through the phone isn’t really enough. he reminded me, though, like he always does, that this is why you can’t constantly be checking in on friends back home. you need to live in the now, and take advantage of what is in front of you – not behind.

i guess i just wanted to post this before i tell you all about pittsburgh, and how much i love it here – because it’s important that you guys know the bad, as well as the good – that it’s tough.

that even though i am seeing/doing a lot of cool things, and meeting fantastic people, traveling alone is really, really tough.

luckily, my next stop was an old friend, who i had a feeling could grasp my situation better than a drunk hostel mate.

and guess what? i feel a whole lot better.

—-> RACHEL G.

taking trains & eating tacos.

ok. i get it now. i get why this city is sort of a big deal.

i left the hostel today not sure what to expect. i hate to admit it, but i was a little scared. this was the biggest, most ‘urban’ city i had been to so far on this trip, and i was sort of at sea without a paddle. or whatever that saying is.

i walked around lincoln park, and then through old town, when i remembered that my cousin lived here for a while. i called him up over in los angeles and without a problem, he sent me in the right direction. he recommended a taco place, and a cool scene in an area called wicker park.

it was sort of walking distance, but i chose to go for the train. i was going to need the practice for my two week pseudo-residency in nyc. i grew up with public transportation, so i figured it would be a no brainer, but of course, there i was looking up at the ticket-dispenser-thingy like a moron. one of the kind folks who works there came over and asked if i needed help. i automatically replied no, quickly, like i almost always do when someone asks me if i need help.

haven’t you heard? i’m an independent woman.

with a little bit of observation, i figured it out, and made my way to the platform. i was looking around, bug-eyed – one hand gripping a subway map, and the other protectively holding my purse in front of me. i realized that i couldn’t be screaming stupid ‘tourist’ much louder, so i relaxed. as soon as i actually sat down, all of my childhood stockholm memories began flooding back to me, and i actually felt more at home than i have in a long time.

i got off at a stop called damen, by my cousin’s advice, and found the taco place he was talking about. i sat at the bar, because i’ve learned that it is the best way to go about eating by yourself, without feeling like you are eating by yourself.

i shouldn’t have been surprised, because my cousin is pretty much the raddest, but this place was incredible. everyone who worked there was hipstersexy, and the music was coming from a record player by the vintage register. proper. i ate some amazing al pastor tacos and scored a pack of matches.

after lunch, i walked around the area, and fell in love.

a few hours later, my right calf was killing me. i think i might be permanently injured from too much driving. i got back on the tube, and headed back towards the hostel.

i got a phone call from a friend from back in venice telling me he was in arizona, and had just begun his cross-country road trip. he said he wanted to let me know, because my trip and i had partially inspired him to take this adventure of his own. i am honored and very excited for him.

now, i’m taking a breather back at the hostel. the spunky, australian girl just asked me if i would be joining them tonight for a comedy improv show. i told her i wasn’t sure, and that i was feeling quite tired. five minutes later mr. beautiful, brooding hostel boy came over and asked me the same question… needless to say, the improv night is looking a bit more interesting.

tomorrow morning, i have an 8 hour drive to pittsburgh. for those of you who know anything about abbot’s habit, you are familiar with a certain miss rachel g. i am so excited to see her, and hear all about her new engagement!

drug dealers in chi-town

after laundry yesterday, i went to that children’s zoo, which was awesome. i was pushing kids out of the way to see the tigers and lions and giraffes, which made a couple parents mad – but they weren’t my parents, so i could give a fuck.

after touring the zoo with the wide eyes of a child, i began my short drive to chi-town.

it is so weird entering big cities. i know that i live in los angeles, but it still shocks me every time; the stress and anger expressed through honking and cutting people off, and the 45 minutes that it took me to travel 6.7 miles. i briefly considered changing my mind, and just driving directly to pittsburgh to the safe arms of my dear old friend from venice – a miss rachel garrity – but i pushed on.

i pulled into the yellow loading zone in front of the hostel and walked clumsily through the doors, the way you walk when you have been sitting for too many hours.

the hostel was incredible. i felt like i had walked into a fancy hotel – except that everyone was 22 and holding out-stretched maps. i went to the counter, only to find the most beautiful hostel-worker-man ever. from the way his hair delicately fell into his eyes, i’m pretty sure he was supposed to be drinking a beer, while reading bukowski, after playing a gig in some small, dirty venue, instead of standing behind this counter… but whatever. he was so lovely that i didn’t even freak out when he told me that parking was 25 dollars a night, which i fully should have.

i made my way past the pool tables, and the stainless steel kitchen, and the computer room, and the music room, to my dorm. it was air conditioned and perfect. the way in which hostels change and develop throughout the country is incredible.

after a quick change, and pit check, i went upstairs to pour myself a drink and do a little mingling. i had a raging headache, and was still pretty exhausted from not sleeping the night before, so when a rowdy australian girl starting talking to me, i was relieved. it was her third time at this hostel, and the way she acted as if she owned the place made this very clear. i’m usually not great with really loud, big-personality type girls, but this place was sort of intimidating so i was happy to have an in. every time i said something that made people laugh, she would laugh louder than the rest, and exclaim “oh my god, you are so funny, we’re so going to be friends!” this gave me a strange mixture of satisfaction and irritation, all at the same time.

a bit later, we all decided that we’d go for a liquor run to the corner store. on our way back to the hostel, we made a weird turn down a different ally. i looked at her and the other two folks with us, and asked where we were going. she just smiled at me and told me it would just take a minute.

we got to an apartment complex, she punched in a code, and we walked down the corridor to a door on our right. she knocked on the door, waited a second and then knocked again, louder and harder. complete radio silence, and then, abruptly, the door swung open and a middle aged, middle eastern man stood there holding a cane in his hand how one would normally hold a bat.

“it’s just US,” the australian girl laughed as she gave him a kiss on the cheek, and pushed past. “jeeeeeesus!”

“don’t ever fucking do that again, man.” he said, but smiled and lowered the bat.

i sat on his couch while they all discussed business. i was not stoked. i was tired, and the last thing i wanted to do was sit around while people i didn’t even know got high. i don’t even like sitting around people i do know get high. no thanks.

when we got back to the hostel, they all told me to come sit with them at their table outside. it felt like one of those high school movies where the new girl gets offered a seat next to the popular kids.

gross. no thanks.

i told them something along the lines of i appreciate the super offer, but i’d rather go choke on a pool ball.

i called it a night, and fell asleep immediately.

after a calm, lovely time in minneapolis amongst friends and family, i am going to have to build up my hostel tolerance again. the august crowd is noticeably different from the may/june crowd.

today is tuesday, and on tuesdays all the museums in the city have free admission. also, i met a guy last night who is doing an improv show downtown this evening. today is going to be a tourist day, i reckon.

back on the road.

this is what i wrote last night when i couldn’t sleep because sweat kept dripping in my eyes and i was feeling a bit catty:

it is midnight, i am exhausted and i am in madison, wisconsin.

around ten o’ clock, after driving all day, i took a cold shower, and crawled into bed. after a half hour of tossing and turning, i peeled off my slip, bunched it up along with my sheet, and threw them both on the ground. after a half hour more, i selfishly turned the floor fan slightly, so that it would be blowing on me a good deal more than the girl sleeping across from me. finally, when i was pretty convinced that i might possibly be in danger of having a stroke, i got up and decided to write.

i am a little worried that this may be my downfall. this humidity. every time i go shopping for summer appropriate apparel, i always leave with yet another sweater. it’s a problem.

anyway, enough about me and my white girl problems. madison is such a cool place.

it is now morning. i made it through the night. didn’t sleep much but i can’t complain. i am sitting in a laundromat right now, doing a month’s worth of wash. living in the city, without a washing machine, has made me very picky about where i do my laundry. for whatever reason, i greatly dislike doing laundry in someone’s house.

not only is it usually very hot and cramped, but it also makes me anxious. i feel compelled to walk around the house and ask everyone if they are/were planning on doing a load. when they say no, i then have to ask again, for fear that they are only saying no because they feel bad. and then when i finally get my clothes in, i sit around uncomfortably, eyeing the clock, feeling like i am taking too long.

it is just a lot of pressure. also, what if i drop a pair of underwear?

that would be embarrassing.

no, thank you. my laundry facility of choice is a laundromat. air conditioned, spacious, bright, vending machines available for my convenience. sometimes, i get hit on, even though i am wearing my laundry day attire, which is a super confidence booster.

i can do my whites, colors and darks all at the same time.

by tonight i’ll be in chicago, but because it is only a few hours away, today i think i’ll stick around madison, and go to the zoo.

last night i took a nice walk around the hostel’s neighborhood. this is a college town, and reminds me a lot of my visit to kalamazoo.

there are young people everywhere and they are all so excited about life. at one point, i was walking down the street, and a group of about five people my age were huddling in a circle, staring and pointing at something on the sidewalk.

“come here!” one guy motioned to me. “check it out!”

there was a strange, teal green caterpillar on the ground.

i stopped and looked with the rest of them and when i started to turn away they all waved and smiled and wished me a good evening.

i went to a cafe for dinner, and got the most heavenly sandwich, by recommendation of mr. cute coffee shop boy. after i had eaten half of the sandwich, and had aioli all over my chin, he came over with a grin and a stack stack of napkins. he spent his break telling me all about how ‘sunsets are better here’, and eagerly asking me about my trip.

when i got back to the hostel, i met two young ladies (both still in high school) who were staying in my dorm. they told me that they were 38 days into their two month long bike trip across the country. bike trip. as in, bicycle. yesterday was their first rest day of the trip. they had thighs of steel and huge smiles.

maybe next summer.

when i woke up this morning, they were already up and packing their bikes up (it was 8am). they brought me some oat&peanut butter pancakes and wished me luck on my trip.

i’ve found some new heroes.

well, my load is nearly dry, and i am amped about seeing some giraffes and monkeys today.

next stop – chicago.

catch-up pt. 2 (ohio, detroit, kalamazoo)

continued from part 1…

8 ) tarot cards. about 7 hours into my drive i stopped at a little shack on the side of the road to get my fortune told. i paid 35 bucks to have a morbidly obese woman tell me:

a) she sees fame in my future (ok lady)

b) a lot of people are jealous of me (sure lady)

c) i have never been truly loved by a man (thanks lady)

d) she sees pregnancy in my immediate future (awesome lady)

e) i will meet two men soon. one wonderful one that i won’t like at first, and one “lion in sheep’s clothing” who i should stay away from. (lady, if you know me at all, you will know that i’ll end up with the lion.)

she told me that something terrible had happened in my past life which makes me emit some sort of unlovability. she had me in a state of half-terrified, and half-pissed off. she then proceeded to tell me that for the sweet deal of $1000 she would hold daily phone calls with me to “rid me of my demons.” the terrified part of me was gone, and now i was just pissed off. i told her thanks but no thanks.

the last thing she said was that she saw an older man in my near future. when i asked her if she meant like, 25? she said no, she meant like, 45.

i got in my car, lit a cigarette, and sped away.

9) i drove through three states and found myself in columbus, ohio. the hostel was a house without any sign. the owner wasn’t there, but he had left me a door code. i walked in and saw an middle-aged bald man in a suit sitting on the couch. i looked around and saw that it was just him and i.

i carried my bag up to the room, and saw that there were just two beds. it was just him, and i. great, i thought, this is it. the fortune teller lady was right. here is this older man, and tonight i am going to get chopped up into little pieces.

i crawled into bed, and closed my eyes.

“do you wake up easily?” a deep voice asked me from across the room.

what the fuck?

“um, no, i don’t.” i responded, trying to keep my voice steady. “you snore?”

“no,” he chuckled. “no, um, this is awkward but…”

he then went on to explain to me that he had had cancer, and his bladder had been removed. he needed to get up every couple hours and empty a small sack attached to his stomach. he explained all of this quietly and with such embarrassment, and tenderness.

of course, i assured him that this was fine – to not worry about me in the least.

he explained that his father had passed away just last year from the same cancer. he explained that he had a wife and kids at home, all of whom he missed dearly. he explained that he had been in the army, and sadly had to retire when he found out about his condition.

i told him that my father had passed when i was younger. he looked up at me, so broken and fragile, and asked me earnestly: “does it get any easier?”

this was not a man who was going to chop me up into little pieces.

we talked for hours, across the room, laying in our beds. he cried, and i comforted. right before we fell asleep, he thanked me. he said i gave him hope.

don’t ever judge a book by it’s cover.

10) small world.

it turned out the little girl who i baby sat for years in sweden, happened to be in columbus visiting her grandparents. i picked her up and took her to breakfast. she has turned into such a beautiful, lovely young lady, and it was a pleasure to see her.

11) after breakfast, i got in my car and headed to detroit. it was a couple days before father’s day, and i had my heart set on spending it with my father.

i drove and drove and headed straight to cranbrook, the astonishing art community where i lived until i was ten. mindlessly, my hands steered me straight to the church of cranbrook. i got out of the car, and slowly walked straight to where my father’s plaque was.

i made it daddy. i’m sorry it took me so long.

i spent the afternoon walking around the grounds with peggy.

peggy was my au pair for three of the most important years of my life. she had come to michigan, fresh-faced, from germany at 20 years old. she was there for us during my little brother’s birth, and my father’s death. she was the glue of our family, and my best friend. she had come to the states to have an exciting year off, and had ended up saving our lives.

she still lives in michigan, now with her husband, and two incredibly beautiful children.

12) father’s day.

i spent father’s day walking around cranbrook again, alone.

i was a lucky fucking kid.

afterwards, i visited my old elementary schools.

then, i went to dixieland. dixieland flea market is one of my most fond and vivid childhood memories. going back, it was exactly the same. disgusting, strange, and fucking awesome.

13) garrett.

a couple years ago, an amazing young man graced california’s presence. after a short time working at abbot’s habit, he went back to michigan to finish school. he lives in kalamazoo, but it just so happened that he was in the detroit area visiting his parents for father’s day.

he picked me up from a motel, and we went to see a movie. afterwards, we went to a friend’s house, played pool and skinny dipped till the early hours of the morning.

in the morning, after breakfast, we headed to his parent’s house. we did yard work, and had dinner with the folks. what a lovely family.

after dinner, we got in our cars and drove to kalamazoo. for two hours, we played phone tag, and had dance battles through our car windows.

14) kalamazoo was a blur. a beautiful, intense, retarded fun blur. garrett and i got on like dear old friends, and the two days went by far too quickly.

by day, while he was at work, i’d snuggle in his bed reading Burroughs.

by night, we would walk from house to house, meeting his friends congregated on sweaty porches.

one night we went to the local watering whole and rapidly got watered. garrett walked up to the stage and said “this one is for Carmela”. the introduction led to a beautiful and slopping rendition of usher’s “you make me wanna”. to a sober person (and all of his friends), this was highly uncomfortable seeing as he actually had a girlfriend – but that night him and i were in our own private world of lust and affection.

the next day, it was time for me to move on. our little fantasy world was at risk and we had to cut it short. i sat at the kalamazoo library gathering my thoughts and itinerary, and dignity, while he was at work. there was a gnarly summer storm outside and when he called, it kept breaking up. i was feeling pretty unemotional and dead inside, so when out of no where, i saw him running down the stairs – his hair dripping wet, his shirt fully permeated by the rain – i didn’t really appreciate the ryan gosling/the notebook similarities that i should have.

we said our goodbyes and i drove away.

kalamazoo will remain one of my fondest road trip memories.

he has an amazing thing going for him there, and i really wish i could have stayed longer. but i think we both know that if i had stayed any longer, saying goodbye would have been far too difficult. i left him a gift at his favorite coffee shop and didn’t look back.

keeping things short and delectably sweet – the life of a road warrior.

to be continued…

catch-up pt.1 (alabama, mississippi, nashville, bonnaroo)

i’m not going to dwell on the fact that i have been the worst blogger ever.

also, i hesitate to apologize because it really is only due to my having far too much fun to sit down and report.

but, um, i’m still sorry.

let’s see what we’ve missed shall we?

1) after new orleans came the ‘road-trip within the roadtrip’.

after fed-exing a gigantic box home to my mum filled with basically everything in my car besides a couple items of clothing, my deodorant, and my camera, i was back on the road. as it turned out, mel and jack were also heading towards tennessee, so we all piled in the muckmobile and took off.

country roads.

gospel church in jackson, ms.

we spent two truly magical days zig-zagging through alabama and mississippi. churches, sweaty topless men, pick-up trucks, trashed motel rooms, curious glances, dirty glares, and cheesy radio, got all three of us safely to memphis, tennessee. i dropped off my new friends, and continued the few additional hours to my hostel in nashville.

gospel church in jackson, ms

the kind of town where applebees is the only thing open at 8pm

dying mel's hair bright red in a motel.

jack cleaning up the mess we made, dying mel's hair in a motel.

so hot. so sweaty. all. the. time.

the most profound moment of our mini road trip was accidentally coming up on an area that had just been completely demolished by a tornado. speechless.

2) nashville was too brilliant for words. the hostel was one big acoustic jam, and the city was positively brimming with energy.

hostel life

open-mic on the first night - met this lovely girl!!

and this equally lovely guy!

highlights included, but were not limited to:

a) attending the ryman auditorium backstage tour, and crying the whole time. no one else seemed very moved, but standing on the same stage where many of country and rock’s greats began, sent shivers up and down my spine.

backstage at the ryman auditorium

b) going to a bar at 5pm for ‘a happy hour drink’ and finding myself sloshed by 5.30pm. on our way out the door, journey’s epic fucking ballad ‘don’t stop believing’ came on. i couldn’t you exactly what came over me, but next thing i knew, i was putting on an impromptu show for the happy hour crowd, and getting money tucked into my shirt and skirt. you can imagine my horror when i happily stumbled outside to suddenly remember that it was barely 6pm, bright as mid-day, and 100 degrees out. that night ended early.

3) on the last day of my nashville week, two very lovely things happened. the first being that ruth showed up. the second being that i met two of the nicest young men i have ever met. do you know what we all had in common? we were all due to show up for our volunteer shift at bonnaroo the very next day. i had a car, they had tents, and we all had a bursting excitement about the festival – so we decided that car-pooling and being bonnaroo camp-mates was the only, and best option.

oh mel...

never too old for twister.

4) bonnaroobonnaroobonnarooBONNAROOBONNAROOOOOOOO

fesitvals are crazy. they are probably some of the most intense tests of endurance known to man. add that to having to work three miserable six hour shifts and you’ve got sweat, tears, and some good fucking memories.

my bonnaroo crew.

james boozer - living up to his name.

highlights include, but are absolutely not limited to:

a) getting lost with ruth on the way home from the store on our first day. we walked for hours carrying four bags of groceries each, including a 24 pack of beer. the sun had set, we were walking along the highway with no idea where we were, and one of the bags broke. frustrated, exhausted, and close to tears, we decided to just sit on the side of the road and have a beer. it took us a few hours, and a couple golf cart rides, but we finally made it ‘home’ to our camp ground. guess what we got to come home to? james and rob had waited for us, and immediately told us to sit and rest while they made us a feast of hot dogs and fritos. i could have died and gone to heaven.

b) exercising sleep deprivation. if you plan on seeing any of the best acts, you won’t be returning to your campsite until 3am-ish. then, you try to lay your (drunker than every before in your life) self down in the fetal position inside of your humid tent on the yoga mat that you thought would provide some sort of barrier between you and the ground. it doesn’t. you finally fall asleep, after the noise finally ceases and your spins become mild movements. two and a half hours later, by 6.30am, it is so bright, and so hot that you have to simultaneously peel your sweat damp sheets off of your body, unzip your tent, shield your eyes, and roll out… moaning. good morning sunshine. your day has begun.

c) how long can you go without a shower? turns out i can go a really long time. as volunteers, we were promised free showers (as opposed to the $7 the regular campers pay, per shower). these showers were just a trailer, with shower stalls. they broke several times a day, and when they weren’t broken, the lines would be hours long. on the third day, when i had full-on dreadlocks, dried mud in every crevice, and had early that morning found some sort of beetle in my ear – i decided it was time for a shower. i went to collect my free shower voucher, and was told they were “all out”. all fucking out of pieces of paper that allowed me the right to stand under some falling water.

i lost it.

i went to my car, turned on my air conditioning, called my mother, and cried for approximately an hour.

when i was done, i got out of my car, put on some deodorant and sprayed half a bottle of dry-shampoo in my hair. i lasted three more days on that. um… swag.

d) my volunteer job? trash talker. my assignment was three 8pm-3am shifts standing in front of the three cans (compost, landfill, recycling), and telling people where to dispose of their shit. i skipped my last shift and didn’t get my deposit back. i don’t regret it.

e) here’s a fun story. let me preface this by saying that i told my fellow bonnaroo-ers a slightly different version of this story because i was so deeply embarrassed – but you guys are now all getting the unabridged version. in retrospect, it is way funnier and i should have let everyone else enjoy my stupidity. oh well.

i was on my way to a trash-talker shift. i was running late and in a hurry (the walk from camp to the stages was a dusty 20-ish minutes away). i decided to stop at the portapotty on the way. exhausted and heat-strokish, i guess i forgot to lift the cover. i proceeded to piss all over myself until my jeans were fully saturated with my own urine. for what seemed like an eternity i just hovered there in shock. i think i actually repeated out loud, “this is not happening, this is NOT happening”. finally i mustered up some energy and ran back to camp. as i mentioned before, showering wasn’t an option. at this point i was shaking and seeing red. i peeled my jeans off, quickly baby-wiped my whole body, threw on a different pair and sprinted to my shift.

i think i told everyone else that the urinal tipped and pee got spilled on me. i am so sorry. i don’t know why i lied. it’s just super tough to tell people who you are about to sleep next to that you accidentally pissed yourself.

f) my fellow campers were top notch. the best of the best. seriously. ruth, james, robert, katie, jenn, sylvia, adam, harrison… everyone else. you guys were too good to be true.

g) the best night of the festival? ruth, adam and i. mumford & sons, black keys, buffalo springfield and eminem. absolute bliss.

5) after bonnaroo ruth, rob, james and i all opted for a motel room and had some of the best showers of our lives.

the next day i had to say a very sad goodbye to the boys. i grew fairly attached to that pair of preppy floridian surfer boys.

6) after tearfully dropping them off at the airport, ruth and i made our way to the middle of no where. ruth was to work on a farm for a week or so, and i wasn’t quite ready to let her go yet – so i offered her a ride. we drove to a beautiful, empty, eerie little town in northern north carolina. i stayed the night with her, and got to see the incredible land. i learned all about weeding, and canning fruits and rotting frogs.

i left ruth the next day. she was probably the best traveling companion i had met thus far – honestly one of the best people i have met… ever. she made me laugh like no one else. saying goodbye to her really was difficult.

luckily, i was still so exhausted from the festival and everything, that i was pretty much emotionally numb. honestly, i was as close to miserable as i have been on this whole trip. i needed some rest. i drove straight to asheville, north carolina to a hostel, and fell into a deep slumber by 6pm. i slept for at least 15 hours.

i woke up refreshed and ready to move on. went to get in my car and: it had been broken into. my $2000 camera was gone and the contents of my car were in shambles.

i took a deep breath, buckled my seat belt, and drove. it is just an object. no use crying over spilled milk.

to be continued…

part three – n’awrlins – remaining photos

i’m sorry – i left louisiana two days ago.

i’m so behind, but before i tell you all about the amazing deep south portion of my trip that i am currently on, i need to post these remaining photos of new orleans.

enjoy.

part two – n’awrlins, you are so out of control

after saying farewell to aiden and harry, i crawled into bed around 8am. this was just in time for it to already be hot, humid, and for the sun to be pouring in through the window. needless to say – it was not my most restful slumber.

i woke up to the sound of bon jovi. i really, really don’t want to sound racist – but there is always a token asian girl in my dorm, and she always manages to make me upset. this time, it is a girl who has decided that she is the queen of the room. she has lined her bed with hangers holding all sorts of little dresses, her heels are lined up against the wall, and she has taken up the entire vanity with her make-up. you would think she was under the false impression that she lives there.

all of those things, i can handle – what i can’t handle, however, is the fact that she plugged in her pink stereo right by the head of my bunk, and insists on playing the slow jam’s station all day long. i kid you not – i wake up to celine dion, and go to bed to mariah carey.

anyway, complaints aside, i woke up at around 12 in the afternoon. upset that i had wasted a good part of the day, i got myself in and out of the shower as quick as possible. i found ruth and sam out in the courtyard in a similar mind-state, so we all got in my car and treated ourselves to a whole foods lunch.

when we got back to the hostel, we were met with a pleasant surprise. two more ex-phoenixees had checked into the hostel – carmelle and jack.

NB: ok guys. by some sad stroke of bad luck, i just lost the rest of the entire post. now, it is midnight, and i have to get up early tomorrow to drive to missippi. instead of writing a half assed post, i will just say this: new orleans was incredible. it was an insane mix of beauty and poverty and music and just pure life. please make some time to come out here. stay at the india hostel and have the time of your life.

instead of words, i will leave you with some photographs of my days here in this magic city:

the hostel

 

wednesday – jack and carmelle from flagstaff show up in new orleans

thursday – swamp tour

thursday night – meeting the danish man-boys

part one – n’awrlins, you’re out of control

after a short but sweet last run-in with keel’s and fred at an uber cool pad in austin, and a short but sweet breakfast with the remaining austin hostel-ers, i was in my car and off to the city of beads and booze.

the drive was long, but pleasant, thanks to some friendly phone calls and pandora. i had made the tragic mistake of not putting any music on my iphone, which caused a moment of panic when i thought about how long nine hours of silence really is. personally, i think that whenever you enter a new city, there should be a sign that lists the radio stations. it just isn’t cool to have to scan through static every hour. not cool at all.

finally, i remembered that i had pandora, so the remaining 6 hours went by smoothly.

when the sun set, and i had about an hour and a half to go, i saw signs for baton rouge. i figured it would be a lovely spot to stop, fill up the tank, and take some photos. i figured i would gaze out on the mississippi, and perhaps i would even find a lovely jazz club where i would befriend the cheery trumpet player. i figured wrong. baton rouge is a scary little town after dark, completely deserted except for a couple very upset/drunk people.

i still needed to fill up my tank, so i drove around until i found a gas station. immediately after i got out of my vehicle, three guys came out of no where and leaned up against my car, the ringleader of the group took the first initiative.

“what’s your name?”

i started fumbling for my keys.

“ey, come on now. what’s your name?”

i got in my car. the last thing i heard before i slammed my door:

“i said, what’s your fucking name?”

with super-human speed, i was out of the gas station, and down the street.

searching for the I-10 east, i zig-zagged up and down the confusing one-way streets. i saw a ramp for the I-10 west and got on. sure, it was the opposite direction, but my intuition was screaming for me to just get my naive little self out of baton rouge.

i am sure it is a lovely city, with lovely people, but sometimes you have to just go with your gut.

it took me an unfortunate amount of time to find my way back to the I-10 west, but when i did, i was in new orleans in no time.

when i got to the hostel, i was not disappointed. everyone was right. the hostel is like it’s own little city. i threw my bags into my room, and headed downstairs, through the colorful kitchen, and out to the backyard. young people were scattered everywhere, laughing and talking, and there was music coming from every corner. the fatigue that had come over me during the drive instantly vanished and i my social skills turned on full gear.

after talking to a couple of canadians (here for a micro-biology conference), and some boisterous new yorkers, i spotted a couple of brit boys strumming a guitar. since my pattern thus far has been led by lovely packs of brits, i was magnetized, so i went and sat down. it turned out that they were from a different hostel a few miles away but had just come to hang out.

you know how normally people know a couple songs on the guitar that everyone knows, and then it just sort of dies out? well this kid, aiden, was comparable to a walking, strumming jukebox. led by requests, his set-list went on for hours – some songs sweet and slow, others having the entire courtyard belting out the chorus. i am clearly a sucker for this sort of thing, so i was in heaven. finally, late into the evening, when we were on our 3rd noise complaint, we all filed out of the hostel, and i gave them a ride home.

obviously in severe late-night-new-orleans love with these two, i promised them that i would be by at 11.30am next morning for brunch. they didn’t believe me, because apparently people aren’t normally overly friendly.

of course, i kept my promise, and i was at they’re hostel at 11.30am sharp the next morning. we drove out to cafe du monde, in the french quarter, and ate powdered donuts and coffee. it was my first time seeing the city in the day light, and dear god, it was extraordinary.

walking down bourbon street in the early afternoon, every single bar was already open. old men sat slumped over on stools already sipping frothy beer. nearly naked women stood in doorways, enticing us into gentlemen’s clubs with promises of “a good time.”

let me remind you – it was perhaps 1.30 in the afternoon. this city does not mess around.

when aiden, harry, and i were sufficiently perspiring, we got back in the car and called nap-time. that’s sort of what you have to do – avoiding the direct sunlight hours of 11-3pm saves energy and sanity.

i returned to the hostel to find ruth, whom i had met in phoenix. i can’t even explain how nice it was to see a familiar face. we all got ready for the evening – deciding that tonight was the night to see what bourbon street was all about.

right when we were about to take off – guess who showed up? harry and aiden! i wasn’t sure if i was going to see them again, so it was an extremely pleasant surprise.

 

our motley crue walked down the the infamous street – and since i know i couldn’t do the evening justice, i’ll just mention some of the highlights.

1) jesters – apparently the ‘strongest drink in the world’. a slushy green sticky mess. i will be happy to never drink one again. upon finishing hers, poor ruth was immediately struck with stomach pains that required a solid 20 minute curb sit-down.

2) the plethora of people passed out face down into gutters – too many jester’s perhaps?

3) being pulled up onto the stage in a club, and dancing along-side a gigantic, bootylicious black woman. no pictures were taken with my camera, but please just trust me, i made the white-girl community proud as i shook it like a polaroid picture. one of my better moments.

4) stuffing philly cheese-steaks into our mouths. one moment thinking it was the best thing i had ever tasted – the next moment realizing that i probably didn’t have to eat the entire thing.

i was satisfied by the much-hyped bourbon street, and fully recommend that everyone go at least once. but once is probably enough. no – once is definitely enough.

we hailed a cab back to the hostel, and got the guitar back out. eventually it was just myself, harry, aiden, and one other guy named paul. the sun was up, and the birds were chirping. we had pulled a memorable, and successful all-nighter in n’awlins.

by now i was genuinely sad to see harry and aiden go. they are great guys, and i wish them all the best in their travels.

i need to stop falling in love in every city. it’s pathetic.

to be continued…