Miles since last blog: 38.7
Miles Total: 1977.9
Route
Tired, will blog tomorrow in Lake Charles.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Crowley, LA: Rice Capitol of the USA!!!
Miles since last blog: 23.9
Miles Total: 1939.2
Route
Yes, here I am in the Rice Capitol, are you as excited as I am? Don't even pretend you're not, it's futile, we're both a twitter. Really, it seems like an alright place. I certainly like the name, it sounds like it should be the last name of a rugged mountain man or something, "Big Jack Crowley chops wood with his bare hands," that type of thing.
I found out that it was the rice wonder of the western world from a lady on a bike while walking to my couchsurfers, immediately after what may have been the laziest attempted mugging ever, or it could have been a joke. Three young men in a black car rolled up on me.
"You walking across America?" One of the boys in the front seat asked.
"Yes," I said.
"How much money you got in your pocket?" said the guy in the back seat.
"About five dollars."
"How 'bout I be gettin' that?"
I laughed, "no, I don't think so" the guy in the front resumed questioning me about the walk while the guy in the back just smiled. They drove off and then a woman on a bike rode up and told me where I was and why it was special. I appreciated the unsolicited information and was able to use it to impress my host with my new knowledge.
My host is young, the whole house is 18 and 19 year olds that grew up in Crowley. She signed up because she found it randomly on the internet and maybe, just maybe, because she dreams of visiting Japan. I can't help but wonder what would have become of me if I were born in a small town like this one, I have always considered myself fortunate to have led the life I have, would I feel the same way if I lived in Crowley or Taipei? I doubt I would ever have moved to Prague had I started here, where would I be working, what would I be doing? I have my ideas but I'll keep them to myself for the moment but it's an interesting exercise, the next time you're driving through a small town or a big town, whatever is foreign to you, take a mental moment to live there.
Oh yeah, and speaking of fantasies, here's my video app for 'the best job in the world" you should think about applying too, you never know . . . And thanks to my new friend who brought me 1.5 pounds of whopper awesomeness!
Miles Total: 1939.2
Route
Yes, here I am in the Rice Capitol, are you as excited as I am? Don't even pretend you're not, it's futile, we're both a twitter. Really, it seems like an alright place. I certainly like the name, it sounds like it should be the last name of a rugged mountain man or something, "Big Jack Crowley chops wood with his bare hands," that type of thing.
I found out that it was the rice wonder of the western world from a lady on a bike while walking to my couchsurfers, immediately after what may have been the laziest attempted mugging ever, or it could have been a joke. Three young men in a black car rolled up on me.
"You walking across America?" One of the boys in the front seat asked.
"Yes," I said.
"How much money you got in your pocket?" said the guy in the back seat.
"About five dollars."
"How 'bout I be gettin' that?"
I laughed, "no, I don't think so" the guy in the front resumed questioning me about the walk while the guy in the back just smiled. They drove off and then a woman on a bike rode up and told me where I was and why it was special. I appreciated the unsolicited information and was able to use it to impress my host with my new knowledge.
My host is young, the whole house is 18 and 19 year olds that grew up in Crowley. She signed up because she found it randomly on the internet and maybe, just maybe, because she dreams of visiting Japan. I can't help but wonder what would have become of me if I were born in a small town like this one, I have always considered myself fortunate to have led the life I have, would I feel the same way if I lived in Crowley or Taipei? I doubt I would ever have moved to Prague had I started here, where would I be working, what would I be doing? I have my ideas but I'll keep them to myself for the moment but it's an interesting exercise, the next time you're driving through a small town or a big town, whatever is foreign to you, take a mental moment to live there.
Oh yeah, and speaking of fantasies, here's my video app for 'the best job in the world" you should think about applying too, you never know . . . And thanks to my new friend who brought me 1.5 pounds of whopper awesomeness!
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Lafayette II: Waking up is hard to do
As often happens when I stay somewhere with electricity and internet I stayed up until the wee hours of the morn, this would hardly be a problem if I hadn't been getting up to do "Good Morning Acadiana" at 4 a.m. As it is, I got an hour of sleep before the show and immediately when we arrived at the station, where my buddy works as a cameraman, I set out to find a suitable place to catch a few winks before my segment. There was little to be had and I ended up wandering about a bit after a brief stint lying on the floor in the corner of their conference room. In my wandering I overheard the anchor introducing himself to the mirror in the bathroom in a deep baritone voice, "With . . . as himself" and then for fun "With . . . as Inspector Clouseau" I chuckled to himself and waited for him to leave before I went in, I didn't want to startle him while he was in the 'pre-broadcast' zone.
The segment was short and informal and then I retired to the small food service area. One of the crew members gave me some Mardi Gras beads and a donation. I did my best to be productive but managed little more than perusing the internet for an hour until the show was over and my buddy could run me back to his place during a break in work. Caught a few Z's and headed down to a diner to get away from the constant sea of cats which seems to barrage my trip and my allergies with it. I'm just glad I'm not walking today, I'm beat, besides, there's a small concert in the back room of my buddy's place tonight so that should be fun . . . no rest for the weary.
The segment was short and informal and then I retired to the small food service area. One of the crew members gave me some Mardi Gras beads and a donation. I did my best to be productive but managed little more than perusing the internet for an hour until the show was over and my buddy could run me back to his place during a break in work. Caught a few Z's and headed down to a diner to get away from the constant sea of cats which seems to barrage my trip and my allergies with it. I'm just glad I'm not walking today, I'm beat, besides, there's a small concert in the back room of my buddy's place tonight so that should be fun . . . no rest for the weary.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Lafayette, LA: Forget about it
Miles since last blog: 13.5
Miles Total: 1915.3
Route
I made my short way to Lafayette after having a strangely comfortable camping experience behind a hedge at the Henderson McDonald's. I woke up feeling rested which was enough but what was strange was that I felt really comfortable, if only every night I could find such a good place to sleep . . . or maybe it was the two dinners I had at the Waffle House trying to cope with my car ride. The people at the Waffle House were incredibly nice and even bought me both meals, my disappointment about yesterday's failure is fading and the wise words of some good people from my past are no small part of that.
Strangely, I find thoughts of the future creeping into my head and milling about no matter what I do. With moving ever closer towards my end goal, it seems that new possibilities are floating out ahead. There's a few things that look pretty tantalizing, and a lot of traveling I feel necessary, but some things are simply out of my control. Things will fall how they may and I suppose I'll just deal with them then, at least I have my position at the Survival School nearly locked up. One thing that this trip is excellent for, learning to let go of things, out here very little is under your control, basically while you walk you're limited to 'stop' or 'keep going.' With no other real choices on the road, letting go of things is a survival skill, and it's pretty relaxing too once you get the hang of it.
Not much to report about the walk today, had the best hot chocolate I've ever had at a place called 'the coffee break' in the quaint little town of Breaux Bridge. I'm staying with a friend from Prague for the next two nights here in Lafayette and then its off to Lake Charles and the ominous Texas Border where I will hopefully become even more
FLEET OF FEET
By the way, for those of you who follow the blog, I have already spotted a book by Elie Weisel, a banjo, and two copies of 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.'
INTO BATON ROUGE
Miles Total: 1915.3
Route
I made my short way to Lafayette after having a strangely comfortable camping experience behind a hedge at the Henderson McDonald's. I woke up feeling rested which was enough but what was strange was that I felt really comfortable, if only every night I could find such a good place to sleep . . . or maybe it was the two dinners I had at the Waffle House trying to cope with my car ride. The people at the Waffle House were incredibly nice and even bought me both meals, my disappointment about yesterday's failure is fading and the wise words of some good people from my past are no small part of that.
Strangely, I find thoughts of the future creeping into my head and milling about no matter what I do. With moving ever closer towards my end goal, it seems that new possibilities are floating out ahead. There's a few things that look pretty tantalizing, and a lot of traveling I feel necessary, but some things are simply out of my control. Things will fall how they may and I suppose I'll just deal with them then, at least I have my position at the Survival School nearly locked up. One thing that this trip is excellent for, learning to let go of things, out here very little is under your control, basically while you walk you're limited to 'stop' or 'keep going.' With no other real choices on the road, letting go of things is a survival skill, and it's pretty relaxing too once you get the hang of it.
Not much to report about the walk today, had the best hot chocolate I've ever had at a place called 'the coffee break' in the quaint little town of Breaux Bridge. I'm staying with a friend from Prague for the next two nights here in Lafayette and then its off to Lake Charles and the ominous Texas Border where I will hopefully become even more
FLEET OF FEET
By the way, for those of you who follow the blog, I have already spotted a book by Elie Weisel, a banjo, and two copies of 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.'
INTO BATON ROUGE
Henderson, LA: And then there are the other days
Miles Since last blog: 28.2
Miles Total: 1901.8
Route
Cheat
All the good karma and luck in the world couldn't get me across Louisiana today. The first major event of the day was crossing the Mississippi River, I took a video that I'll get done soon, but my battery won't last long enough so just a blog this evening, sorry. Though I was supposed to cross the bridge on US-190, I soon found out that didn't necessarily mean there was a sidewalk, or even a shoulder. It was a high adrenaline dash, well okay, it started as a dash and sort of faded into the creeping jog of a terrified and wheezing 30-year-old man. It was no the religious experience I had hoped for with my first crossing of the river, but I suppose I'll remember the feeling of cars whizzing by me a lot longer anyway.
The rest of the day was a long anticipation if an upcoming bridge, a bridge people had been talking about since NOLA, a bridge I couldn't cross. The bridges description ranged from 17 to 23 miles depending on who was telling it and although there was one other bridge, it added another 60 miles to my course and was equally uncrossable.
I arrived an hour after dark having not eaten since 10:30 or so, I had been pushing myself to get as far as possible during the daylight hours then there had just been nowhere to stop. Where I arrived was a closed down trailer/market a scant 200 feet from the interstate highway. I'd never walked on an interstate except for an accidental wander on that ended quickly once, but this time I was prepared to go at it mentally. I sat down and pulled my old smushed bread out of the back of Cherry, I unloaded my jelly and peanut butter and a plastic knife, even my laptop which I finished watching Ben-Hur on over the hour and a half I was pre-interstate. First I tried a last ditch effort at finding a way across somewhere else, then I walked around a bit, while I had been eating I had gotten cold, really cold and my body was shuddering.
All day long I had been talking to police officers who had told me the bridge north had no shoulder and was 4 miles long and that it was illegal to walk on the interstate. The prospect of getting arrested was what lead me to the events following.
I walked cautiously up the on ramp shoulder for I-10, on the divide, immediately after the on ramp was to end, was a Sheriff. I jogged across the three lanes of Westbound traffic and came up to his window, I explained my plight and he radioed for a car to take me across the bridge. I felt lost. I felt like I had lost something, it was much worse than being hit by a car.
While I waited my eyes teared up a few times, the one real solid principle I had had about this journey was that my steps across the country, my ultimate path would be unbroken. I felt like I was breaking a contract with everyone who had ever cared about this journey and mostly myself. The point of the whole thing seemed muddled and dirty now.
Before too long, but long enough for me to start shivering and pacing to keep warm, an officer came. I took Cherry apart and loaded my things into the back seat and Cherry into the trunk which had to be shut using bungee chords. It was my first time in a police cruiser and certainly my first time in the back seat. I sort of want to just stare longingly at the small shoulder of the road that we were driving past. I watched it, I knew, I could walk this. Cherry might not be able to go because she was too bad, but there was a time, when my buddy Free was with me, I would have pawned Cherry off on his VW and made my way across at night as stealthily as possible. But there was no use with ifs. I knew I could walk this given the chance, but I'd never get the chance, the road was filled with police and it was illegal.
The officer and I started talking and I tried my best to ignore my feeling that somehow I had failed and everything was suddenly terribly wrong. I was still trying to think of ways to fix it. We talked about education, his kids, the bridges of which he said, "I don't relish the thought of a pedestrian on here. We have a hard enough time keeping the drivers alive."
I liked the conversation, and it helped. He told me about the starfish.
"Two men were walking along the beach," he said, "and one friend picked up a starfish lying on the beach and threw it back into the ocean. His friend said, 'do you really think that that makes any difference? One or two starfish don't make any kind of difference in the entire marine ecosystem.' He nodded and replied, 'explain that to the starfish.'"
He told me about why we do what we do.
"You get over the idea that you're gonna save the world pretty quickly. You come in 10 feet tall and bulletproof, all googly eyed. A gambler gambles for that once in a while that he hits a big score, a band for that one gold record, and us, police, most of the guys I know that keep doing this do it because every once in a while, you get to really help someone."
It still felt like a loss, sitting in a police cruiser being ferried across the bridge, even despite the officers words, "I don't see it as a loss, I see it as survival." Still, he was right even if the message was that sometimes you win, with everything having gone so well for so long, I nearly forgot, sometimes you lose, and that's okay too.
Miles Total: 1901.8
Route
Cheat
All the good karma and luck in the world couldn't get me across Louisiana today. The first major event of the day was crossing the Mississippi River, I took a video that I'll get done soon, but my battery won't last long enough so just a blog this evening, sorry. Though I was supposed to cross the bridge on US-190, I soon found out that didn't necessarily mean there was a sidewalk, or even a shoulder. It was a high adrenaline dash, well okay, it started as a dash and sort of faded into the creeping jog of a terrified and wheezing 30-year-old man. It was no the religious experience I had hoped for with my first crossing of the river, but I suppose I'll remember the feeling of cars whizzing by me a lot longer anyway.
The rest of the day was a long anticipation if an upcoming bridge, a bridge people had been talking about since NOLA, a bridge I couldn't cross. The bridges description ranged from 17 to 23 miles depending on who was telling it and although there was one other bridge, it added another 60 miles to my course and was equally uncrossable.
I arrived an hour after dark having not eaten since 10:30 or so, I had been pushing myself to get as far as possible during the daylight hours then there had just been nowhere to stop. Where I arrived was a closed down trailer/market a scant 200 feet from the interstate highway. I'd never walked on an interstate except for an accidental wander on that ended quickly once, but this time I was prepared to go at it mentally. I sat down and pulled my old smushed bread out of the back of Cherry, I unloaded my jelly and peanut butter and a plastic knife, even my laptop which I finished watching Ben-Hur on over the hour and a half I was pre-interstate. First I tried a last ditch effort at finding a way across somewhere else, then I walked around a bit, while I had been eating I had gotten cold, really cold and my body was shuddering.
All day long I had been talking to police officers who had told me the bridge north had no shoulder and was 4 miles long and that it was illegal to walk on the interstate. The prospect of getting arrested was what lead me to the events following.
I walked cautiously up the on ramp shoulder for I-10, on the divide, immediately after the on ramp was to end, was a Sheriff. I jogged across the three lanes of Westbound traffic and came up to his window, I explained my plight and he radioed for a car to take me across the bridge. I felt lost. I felt like I had lost something, it was much worse than being hit by a car.
While I waited my eyes teared up a few times, the one real solid principle I had had about this journey was that my steps across the country, my ultimate path would be unbroken. I felt like I was breaking a contract with everyone who had ever cared about this journey and mostly myself. The point of the whole thing seemed muddled and dirty now.
Before too long, but long enough for me to start shivering and pacing to keep warm, an officer came. I took Cherry apart and loaded my things into the back seat and Cherry into the trunk which had to be shut using bungee chords. It was my first time in a police cruiser and certainly my first time in the back seat. I sort of want to just stare longingly at the small shoulder of the road that we were driving past. I watched it, I knew, I could walk this. Cherry might not be able to go because she was too bad, but there was a time, when my buddy Free was with me, I would have pawned Cherry off on his VW and made my way across at night as stealthily as possible. But there was no use with ifs. I knew I could walk this given the chance, but I'd never get the chance, the road was filled with police and it was illegal.
The officer and I started talking and I tried my best to ignore my feeling that somehow I had failed and everything was suddenly terribly wrong. I was still trying to think of ways to fix it. We talked about education, his kids, the bridges of which he said, "I don't relish the thought of a pedestrian on here. We have a hard enough time keeping the drivers alive."
I liked the conversation, and it helped. He told me about the starfish.
"Two men were walking along the beach," he said, "and one friend picked up a starfish lying on the beach and threw it back into the ocean. His friend said, 'do you really think that that makes any difference? One or two starfish don't make any kind of difference in the entire marine ecosystem.' He nodded and replied, 'explain that to the starfish.'"
He told me about why we do what we do.
"You get over the idea that you're gonna save the world pretty quickly. You come in 10 feet tall and bulletproof, all googly eyed. A gambler gambles for that once in a while that he hits a big score, a band for that one gold record, and us, police, most of the guys I know that keep doing this do it because every once in a while, you get to really help someone."
It still felt like a loss, sitting in a police cruiser being ferried across the bridge, even despite the officers words, "I don't see it as a loss, I see it as survival." Still, he was right even if the message was that sometimes you win, with everything having gone so well for so long, I nearly forgot, sometimes you lose, and that's okay too.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Baton Rouge IV: The 100 Blogs Score
I had been contemplating leaving Baton Rouge today, right up until I had a conversation with my host that decided for me.
Kismet, for those of you who don't know, is something like fate. Literally, it means "the will of Allah" but we have adopted it to the common usage of fate or fortune.
Kismet, she's my constant companion. She warms my days with coincidences that once strange are now commonplace, though only by frequency. Though I am no longer surprised by her, I am continually delighted. There are certain things, like books, continually appear in my life through suggestion or as the possessions of my hosts.
One such book is 'Flowers for Algernon' which in sum is about a retarded adult who, thanks to an experiment, gains great intelligence and then loses it just as quickly. Hopefully Kismet isn't trying to tell me anything with this one. This is actually due to the propensity for a certain type of person to host Couch Surfers. It's virtually a kit that people get some random smattering of. One copy 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance,' one copy of a book by Elie Wiesel, one copy of a book by Bill Bryson, something from either Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert, a banjo, one copy 'Three cups of tea,' 'Flowers for Algernon.'
Even knowing this, some things are just too unlikely to be true. I've been thinking for a while now that I wanted to get tattoos of little wings on my feet. Hermes, the Greek God of Travel, Sportsman and Border Crossings, wears sandals with wings and it seemed a fitting offering to an icon of what has given me so much. I tried twice while I was in New Orleans but was unsuccessful both times due to various reasons.
Although I was getting ready mentally to leave this morning, something in me nagged to ask, "Are there any good tattoo shops around?"
"Umm, yeah, one or two I think. What were you thinking of getting?" asked Sarah one of my hosts. I told her the plan. Sarah and A, her boyfriend, exchanged a glance.
"That's weird, tell him," A said to Sarah.
"I wanted the same thing." She said. She had just finished her first half-marathon and had been thinking about it for some time as had I. If we hadn't met I may have gone all the way to California never stopping to get my desired tattoo and she may have gone on months or years as well. First I think you'd have to understand how unlikely this was. If you google search some image as a tattoo, you'll find tons of images, of this, I found two. It's extremely uncommon.
None of the tattoo artists seemed to have heard of anything like it and they would sometimes come over to look and see how it was turning out. T, my artist, said that he thought it was a pretty cool idea and also mentioned, in relation to the walk, that he thought the world needed more people doing things like me. Some other patrons gave me a donation.
Honestly, when I woke up this morning I was thinking, "IIIIIIIIIIt's Grooooundhog's Day!" from that old Bill Murray flick where the day repeats over and over again and there's nothing he can do about it. Groundhog's Day has other somber implications as well that I won't go into but needless to say it isn't something I was looking forward to. I was thinking that with heading West into the desserts of Texas and the Southwest, "IIIIIIIIIIt's Grooooundhog's Day!" was exactly what I was going to be thinking many a camped morning in the middle, to slightly left, of nowhere, but Kismet, she's whispering sweet nothings and telling me it isn't to be so. It seems like there's a lot more up her ancient sleeve than even I expected.
2/2 Tat2
Afterwards we went and watched 'The Wrestler' and so the day turned into a long festival of ritualized self destruction capped off nicely by fried chicken and pizza. Tomorrow I do head west towards Lafayette on my newly christened ankles and singing Paul Simon the whole way, "Well Imma standin' on a corner in Lafayette, State of Louisiana, wonderin' what a city boy could do . . . "
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Baton Rouge III: The Month in Math
Miles since last blog: 2.0
Miles Total: 1873.6
Route
Miles in January: 423.1
Average Daily Mileage: 13.65
Average Walking Day Mileage: 22.27
Mileage left: 1967.5 (give or take a few hundred miles :))
Countries reading my blog: 23 (I know, I'm stunned too)
States this Month: 3
Amazing people and experiences: Countless
Yes, this month I have been taking it a bit slow, but I have a feeling that's all going to change soon here. I've been stunned and gratified by all the emails and comments, and in case you were wondering, if you have suggested a song or movie I've watched and enjoyed it. Thanks for the suggestions all.
Today I watched the Super Bowl, there is only know one person that cares about football whom I actually know what team they were routing for, so I chose that team and they won. Hooray, I guess, but I had to watch right? Walking across America and snubbing the Quintessential USA sports event would be sacrilegious. I must say, commercials, not so interesting, where were my Superhero movie previews. Oh well, life goes on.
Probably here in BR for one more day, then it's off like a shot and into the West. Texas, I'm a comin' fer ya.
And here's a random video from the good old days with Free
HUNGRY HUNGRY SKIPPO
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