Heading Home

I can't believe I'll be home tomorrow evening. It seems like, although I'm still in Idaho, that it is a lifetime away. Returning to the daily grind sounds both comforting and stifling at the same time. I'm sure one week into work I'll be wondering, 'Was I really sleeping in my car just seven days past?'

I feel like my last blog entry was a bit too excited and rushed. I spent my last week and a half in the Wild West and because I took some serious back roads, it really WAS the WILD West. I can't decide which people are kinder: the Southerners in their hospitality, the Midwesterners in their amazing generosity, or the Westerners in their openness. In places like Wyoming and Nevada, you cannot just survive on your own. You have to stick together, even if its a small group of you. I don't think I there's any other place that I felt so much at home than in the mountains of Nevada. This has always been a place I've enjoyed to have an adventure, but waking up with the sun coming over the desert mountains and the world in complete quiet was just heaven.

Western men, despite completely living up to their rough stereotype (as I said in WY), are more open to emotions that I would have thought. I chatted with one rancher after discussing the problem of wild horses and roping cattle, about how he stopped hunting after his wife passed away. He said that they used to hunt geese. Geese mate for life. If you killed one, the mate comes back searching for its downed lover and after his own mate died of cancer, it kills him to think he could ever do that--even to a bird. Also, the way these men treat their dogs is just incredible. It's not the kind of care that a city guy might take care of his dog, but the affection for his loyal companion is verbalized nonetheless. "If a woman was as devoted to me as this wolf..." I heard one man say, "I wouldn't be alone today. I would treat her so well in return."

I've said before that everyday I feel like I'm going through culture shock and I haven't left the United States in two years. After my week in the West, I headed to the mountains of Idaho. I had forgotten about Idaho's reputation for skin heads til I got here. Oh yeah I remember!, I thought to myself as yet another old Ford littered in Dixie bumper stickers passed me with two bald white males sitting in front. In the south, having a confederate flag either means 1. Your a white supremest or 2, you're proud of your heritage. So far northwest, having a confederate flag hang over your front door only means the first. With this in mind, I should probably hide away my "Dixieland" license plate before someone assumes the worst.

Anyway, soon I will be home. I'll post state superlatives and final mileage statistics. I'm scraping by with just enough money to get through this trip. And I'm so thankful for this opportunity...despite the fact that I'm sitting in a Starbucks and I am not sure how I ended up smelling this bad even though my WONDERFUL coworker booked me a room in his timeshare resort two nights ago (Complete with a washing machine, a gas fire place, and a hot tub!!). Shower, I'm so sorry baby, I'll never take you for granted again. I swear. No more asking my roommate if I look clean enough to bypass you. It got old quickly having to scurry into a gas station with a broken backpack full of toiletries and scurry out 10 minutes later with a towel around my head. Sadly enough, I've looked cleaner after a Burger King shower than a real one. And no, to people who ask "Burger Kings have showers?" They don't.

And sorry, no more pictures (not even of watching two shepherds herd a flock of sheep out in the middle of the high desert or of the road sign "Beet Dump Rd") as I somehow lost my camera charger. Must have fallen out of that annoying broken backpack! :(

Of Wolves and Men

You know it's going to be an interesting evening when you're 100 miles from any highway and 20 from a paved road and walk into a mountain top saloon that's filled with mountain men, cowboys, dogs, and a wolf. I'm sure a lot of people would have very much doubted their judgement as to the series of events that would lead them to a place like this but I was all smiles. The guy who led me to this devil's den asked the bartender to share some moonshine with me and she gave a disgusted look at the idea but nonetheless whipped out a gallon finger jug labeled in pencil "Cook's special" and poured me a taste. Now I know why the rednecks in cartoons always breathe fire when they drink moonshine! She didn't bother asking if I wanted more because obviously I did not. As the evening progressed, I got to know everyone in the entire village, everyone in the village over, and of everyone in the next valley. 75 miles off a dirt road leads you to highway 50, nicknamed "The Loneliest Road" on every map. So obviously I was OUT there.

The series of events that led me to this ghost town in the mountains: I headed west on hwy 6. I knew I was in for some good times because of this sign:

Also...because Nevada is the BEST state to go to if you want a good story to tell. I've never visited the state without having an adventure. The first time, I met a group of snowboarders that invited me to stay with them for a week. The second time, a woman came up to me and told me my past and future. This is the also state where I stayed at the haunted campsite.

I decided to take a 500 mile detour and retrace some of the steps I took when I was in the Silver state 3 years ago. Should I go shower at the hot springs where a huge pack of coyotes decided to interrupt my last bathing session? Absolutely! This time: successful. Only one wild bunny and no other wild creatures. Though, a van full of Korean tourists snapped a few pictures of me sitting in a bikini washing my hair in the naturally warm spring waters. Thanks, guys. I have no idea where they would even be coming from as this hot springs was is probably 200 miles from Vegas and even more from Reno.

After my nice shower, I headed north. Some voice kept on nagging on me to visit a semi ghost town I had visited on my previous trip even though it was several miles out of the way. I shrugged and listed to the voice. Sure glad I did because then I ended up following a group of people down a long dirt road to a town unmarked. After a fun evening meeting everyone and hearing cool stories, a nice couple I met there let me stay in their house. This morning I went for a lovely jog through the hills. Jogging at 7500 feet is just as slow and painful as jogging in Alabama August humidity. When I left, they sent me away with the best lunch/dinner/lunch the next day.

Although a group invited me to join them to go rope cattle in the mountains, it just won't work out for me to be gone for an overnight trip. So I missed out on probably the experience of a lifetime but don't they say, when one door closes, another one opens? Only a few more days left on this trip so hopefully one opens soon!

Vast Nothingness

The majority of Wyoming, excluding the Yellowstone and Grand Teton area, is a wasteland of vast nothingness without change from the 350 miles or so east to west. In fact, it is the least populous state in the union and from the moment I crossed from Nebraska to Wyoming, I could see why. I drove about 50 miles on four separate occasions without seeing a single man-made structure (sometimes because of open range, not even a fence line along the lonely two-lane highway) as far as the eye could see in every direction.

I was a little apprehensive heading west from Iowa. The last three states I had visited: Illinois, Missouri, and Iowa had all bored me with their landscapes. Slight rolling hills and corn. Oh, and some soy. Over and over again for hundreds of miles weaving through the tri-state area. This is the first time I have traveled and been bored by the scenery. In fact, I even prided myself in loving the states that were least loved like the Dakotas and Oklahoma. Upon entering Nebraska, everything changed from corn fields to cattle grazing land. So beautiful!!! I ended up driving at night trying to make it the rest of Nebraska and I could drive MILES without seeing any light from anything. (I kept checking my brights because they just didn't light anything it was so dark)

Wyoming is desert mountains high desert plains. This territory is ancient, God-forsaken, eerie, peaceful. The mountains, where you can see the layers of earth jutting out at an angle tell of earthquakes and disasters occurring millions of years in the past. One almost expects a triceratops to emerge behind a hill, or even to see a UFO crash site in a field. I stopped the car and got out. Since it was still early, there was little wind so I couldn't even hear THAT. The only sound were my ears ringing. If you ever have a chance, I suggest you go hang out by yourself in the desert out in the middle of nowhere to hear yourself think. If you can't stand the silence, make some changes.

Silly Wyoming...that isn't a road.

Off to interview in Cokeville, WY, on the southwest corner of the state. The dot on the map was pretty big so I was expecting something pretty decent-sized.

Population: 506. Even in the center of town there was deafening silence. How did I end up at all these small towns?? The people turned out to be pretty friendly, for the most part. In contrast to Stuart, NE that has a similar population, they were much more welcoming to "move-ins" I interviewed a girl who had moved to Cokeville from Nevada. The town natives agreed that "Once you move in, you're one of us...whether you like it or not!!" On the other hand, Stuart-ans talked of another resident saying, "Well, he's just a move-in." "Oh yeah? How long has he lived here?" I asked. "36 years." Which goes to show you how different towns are even if they have the same industry and population.

It was nearing sundown. I was sitting at the bar with a glass of water in my hands. Suddenly the doors to the cafe swing open. The barmaids gasp and flee to the kitchen. A baby cries. The silhouettes of four large men, their cowboy hats casting shadows over their faces, linger in the door way. "Well?" One barks. "Are we gonna git service?" The waitress shuffles around the bar to show them to their table. They swagger in a slow mosey in their chaps and tight Wranglers. I could hear the sound of the spurs hit the old wooden blanked floor and tried not to make eye contact with them.

Ok, so that's an exaggeration of what happened, but I snapped a picture of two of them heading back to their truck. Wyoming ranchers make Texans look like frail city boys.

Now I'm surrounded by Mormons in a Salt Lake City suburb. My next destination was going to be Hanksville--located right between several national parks but i think it would be more interesting and better to get a larger city as I have done interviews in so many small towns. Oh yeah, landscape-wise, Utah blows all the other states out of the water...hands DOWN. Ok Wyoming has a lot of beauty as well in the northwestern part and Montana too. But Utah wins. Visit there.

Homeless Turf Wars

Finally I have a chance for internet access for the first time in nearly a week. Often times there is internet at a McDonalds (where I am now) but there are rarely outlets so I don't have a real chance to take advantage of the facility.

I faced more rejection than ever before in Illinois, a state that is now on my bad list. Not only was I kicked out for chatting with retired farmers at a McDonalds, a woman actually threw my survey out in the garbage right in front of me. I was so mad I nearly just left town right there. Seeing as I've been on the road for nearly two months, not stayed in the same place except once for more than two nights, and showered in the most embarrassing of places, I am VERY much at the end of my rope. But, after taking a few deep breaths and deciding to try again, I worked up the courage to ask permission at a local pub in town to let me do interviews. People there were great and had me leaving the town (after stopping by every shop in downtown) feeling a lot better about the place....UNTIL today where I found surveys by ACCIDENT that people had sealed away without filling out the majority of the questions. WHY would a person say they would help, then pretend to do so? Because I decided to save looking at the data until I got home, I am wondering...how many more people have done this? Is it just awful Monticello, Illinois or are there many more states and people who have failed to complete the 2 minutes of work they agreed to do?

A Starbucks in Columbia, Missouri the next morning kindly asked me to leave. They were much nicer about it but Starbucks was my one last safe haven and an easy starting place. Not that I've found too many Starbucks' in my travels, but the cities that have had them even the employees all ask to help out and fill out a survey. I ended the day at a McDonald's and made it out JUST in time before I was kicked out again.

-Keepin' in classy, Missourah: Bumper sticker says, "My Other Toy has HOOTERS" How does someone respond to this? No words.-

THANKFULLY, Iowans were extremely hospitable and helpful. A couple I had met while volunteering in Joplin, MO, invited me to stay at their house despite me giving them extremely short notice I would be in the area. I spent two nights there--including having Sunday completely off! Everyone I met in their church was so kind and welcoming (despite being LUTHERAN ;) ) They sent me off with a nice lunch and lots of hugs. Yeay!!

Now in last couple days I've put in LOTS more miles and going to drive another 600 miles tomorrow to get to the next town in western Wyoming. I can't believe that I'll be home in less than two weeks. I'm definitely feeling like it's time to go home. Last night, I thought I had struck gold being able to stay at a rest stop with clean bathrooms and outlets and a chair! I was able to charge my iPod while working on a craft project. Unfortunately, since the rest area was in-town, there were two other homeless people hanging around. I tried to work on my bead work, but one started going off about how the second Vatican council wasn't the true Catholic faith because the real pope was kidnapped and a free Mason took his place and made all the changes. "Stained glass windows and Latin...That's TRUE Catholicism...otherwise you are going to hell. I'm telling you this for your own good." Sadly enough, the rest stop reminded me a lot of downtown Everett. But cleaner.

So who won the homeless turf war? Ranting Conspiracy Theories vs. Stephanie....Crazy wins. I fled to the safety of my hobo fort (the Corolla) and fell into a fitful sleep. Funny, this man was not the first schizophrenic man I had run into in Iowa or even that day. The first was around my age and I could tell he was right away. I felt deep empathy for him and we talked for 30 minutes. In the end, he wanted my phone number though so I apologized and explained I had a boyfriend. I let him give me his address because he pleaded for me to return to talk to him more. I wonder where his family was. What had occurred in his life that he ended up in small town Iowa all alone, intensely feeling his solitude? There are so many "lepers" in modern America. The mentally ill and homeless (most go hand in hand) are 99% of the time avoided and ignored. Actually being on this trip, I have been given that look very often and lots of disgusted/curious stares. It is so OBVIOUS what people are thinking and it only makes a person what to hide away from society even more, away from help.

On a final, lighter note, in Iowa I saw a a trucked pulled up to a deer with two men getting out to cut it up. They themselves had not hit the deer as the truck was undamaged.

GOD BLESS 'MERKA!!!!!

Learning so much....but what again?

NOTE: I present a lot of questions in this entry--this does NOT IMPLY that if I question something or someone, I believe them to be wrong--it's because I want to know IF they are or are not.

A traveling couple I had an extremely brief exchange with in Goodman, WI invited me to stay at their home in Green Bay. Since the Packers are my second favorite team, I had to say yes! First, let me talk about Michigan.

I visited a friend in a Detroit suburb. It was so WONDERFUL to connect with someone my own age!! It seems like those I really get along the best are usually 30 to 50 years older than I am which honestly, is a bit saddening to me. Why don't young people like to DISCUSS the meaning of life? I just had such a GREAT time there. She introduced me to her neighbors who were just wonderful women as well. We stayed up "late" drinking wine and discussing all the things people aren't supposed to talk about: religion, sex, and politics. If you can leave the night having different views on these subjects and still be friends, you're in good company!

One thing I noticed is the South is not as racist as we make it out to be. Ok, let me rephrase that. The South is just as racist as the rest of the country. I noticed just as much segregation in Michigan as in Georgia. I feel the racism in the north, which I considered to be only a Seattle thing, is that no one believes themselves to be racist as probably a Southerner might admit it more. And how can you solve a problem that no one believes exists? I am very curious to look up the history of Detroit now. My friend said that she's talked to people who have lived in the Detroit suburbs their whole lives and how in the 1960's, after the riots, the white people gave up the city to the African American population and it's gone downhill ever since. I asked her, "If you listened to the same story from people who lived in Atlanta suburbs their whole lives, would you believe them or would you write it off as 'those southern racists'?" I REALLY wish I would have been able to go in the city and talk to people. Would I just pin everyone in the city of Detroit as a victim? Probably not. I think to completely victimize people strips them of their power to help themselves. Grr--this has left me with TOO many questions and NOT enough answers!

Continuing on the topic of the Midwest, never has any group of people been so generous to me as those in Michigan and Wisconsin. Southerners were very hospitable and would invite me to their house, some would even buy me dinner. No one handed me cash, but I swear Midwesterners have just been throwing money at me. Obviously it's not a huge amount but it's been very touching and amazing to me.

My interviews in Goodman, WI went very well. It was the first time that I actually went to people's houses to interview people, and my first time to interview the oldest person in the town (she is 96 years old). One man, in his 90's, answered very high on his level of happiness. However, on the other factors that should contribute to happiness, he was very low. At the end of the survey when he started showering me with little gifts, I asked him, "Why are you so happy? Everything here states that you shouldn't be so." (I always seem to just blurt out what I'm thinking--gets me in trouble sometimes) He had lost two wives, one fairly recently, and his 11...yes ELEVEN...children all lived a fair distance away from him and he lived alone in a retirement community. After thinking about it for a moment, he had simple answer: "The Lord has been very good to me." Goodman is at the edge of its county, connected closely with Franklin county. This is the poorest county in the state. However, 4 separate people tried handing me money and gifts. Another bought my dinner at the cafe.

When I was in New Hampshire, I decided to splurge and buy dinner out to eat famous New England seafood. I sat down at the bar next to a CEO who had traveled the world and the country many times over. He was definitely well off. Now, I am hesitant to repeat this in words because I don't want to make it sound like I am looking for hand outs. He made no mention of buying me dinner, which actually was probably the first time that I had sat down and chatted with someone who hadn't. When I was in the south, I wouldn't find out until after they had left that they had paid so there was no way I could thank them. Those in the poorest county in the state were giving me the shirt off their back. Again, I wasn't looking for ANYONE to buy me anything. Thank the Lord people have been so good to me. Despite my rest stop showers, going extra slow on the freeway to save gas, and lunches consisting of tuna and crackers, I am starting to run out of money. If people hadn't been so GOOD to me along the way and before I even started my journey, there is no way I could have done this trip. It just cost so much more than I thought.

The couple from Green Bay showered me with typical generosity to a complete stranger. The husband and I sat down and he just started asking me over and over again how I was doing things. He said that it seems like the surveys and interviews are secondary to this amazing journey I've had. In many ways, I have felt very much like what it's like to be homeless, he commented. Obviously I have a car and I do have emergency money so it's not the same. I told him I feel like I'm learning something very important but I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS. Every day I talk to people and gain experiences and hear viewpoints I had never heard before. Then I get back into my car and digest it all. But I don't know what I'm digesting! Once I do figure out what I'm learning, I think it's going to be pretty intense. And once I understand that, where do I go from there?

The more I travel, the more I find out I really don't have an idea of what it is like to live in this earth. The less likely I am just to say 'well, these people are this way' as I did when I was younger. The scary part of it is, I have seen more places and talked to and tried to understand the people of this world more than the majority of people...and how LITTLE we understand each other and really see what it's like. Especially since the more you learn, the more you realize you have more to learn. I was given such a tiny snapshot of American life growing up. I traveled the world and the view got bigger. As the pinhole of my experience expanded, the more I could see it was just a small piece of a much larger picture. What I find sad is that when people don't travel or try to understand their neighbor, they feel like they understand each other because they don't realize their life is just a tiny fraction of the human experience. There is so much more to learn.

I'm in Illinois now. Yesterday I came down with a nasty cold--worse than I've had in a long time. Thankfully a friend from Everett hooked me up with more of his family in Bloomington so I was able to sleep 14 hours last night. Even so, there will be no surveys today. Also, to those who keep on telling me, "Amazing you haven't had car problems yet" STOP SAYING THAT. I've had to deal with 3 ever since people made that stupid comment :D Gotta go pretty soon to throw down a couple hundred more on a brake problem because apparently brakes are important...whatever. Again THANK you to everyone who's helped me out. I haven't had to panhandle at all because of you!!

Amish Gone Wild

"I like your beard." I said to a man dressed in a jump suit with short hair and wearing no hat. He gave me an odd look as two toddler boys in blue suits and straw hats ran to his side. Oh. Yup, observant Stephanie just complimented an Amish man on his beard. He was camouflaged though, how was I supposed to know he was Amish?? I interviewed the majority of Pike and Hume, NY, included several Amish youth too. The vibe between the Englishers and the Old Order was very different than up north by Canada. Up north, the Amish seemed much shyer, traditional, and friendly. The English had great things to say about their neighbors and people hung out together pretty often. Here, they lived just as close in proximity but there was more tension between the groups. I sat in a barber shop in Pike where the people were talking about their Amish neighbors
"I just saw a group of Amish walk by."
"Were they staggering? Are they drunk already?"
That is NOT the first question I would ask about any group, traditional or non, about those walking at 5 o clock in the evening on a Thursday night. She then went on to tell the story how recently, a horse and buggy was getting stopped by the police for a DWI. The driver, in drunken logic, spurred his horse on faster to try to outrun the cops and when he realized it could not be done, he jumped out of his buggy and ran into the woods. Apparently the Amish around this area, who even hire drivers to go the post office, are not nearly as traditional and have a secret love for booze. Amazing.

I realized this trend of dissolving traditional values first hand when I doing interviews with young Amish who were buying Doritos and energy drinks at a gas station. I never thought I would be chatting with an Amish boy my age drinking a Monster talking about working construction. The girls just giggled and chatted in Pennsylvanian Dutch. I answered their questions in German they were asking each other about the survey and they looked at me with wide eyes and giggled some more. Strange, I thought the girls would be more comfortable to talk to me but I only chatted with female Amish a couple of times but I talked to a dozen Amish men.

That night I took side roads in Ohio and sure enough, I drove passed an Amish school. There's nothing cuter than little Amish boys and girls running and playing tag in straw hats and bonnets. A little later, I drove by a local store and saw a few horse and buggies tied up. Long story short, after I asked to take a picture of a man's horse and buggy, he offered to give me a ride. "You won't be too scared will you?" "Um, NO!!"

It was awesome. Totally made my year. Turns out all these talks and hanging out with Amish and even getting a buggy ride doesn't really happen too often. People are pretty surprised when I tell them I've interviewed a dozen Amish, "And they'll talk to you?" they reply. I guess so!

I apologize for this blog entry. I am pretty sure I have fully come down with a cold. My brain is clogged up so it's not working so great. I think I just spaced off at the computer screen for a full 5 minutes before I remembered what I was doing.

So many thoughts since I've been in the Midwest, continuing on ideas of racism, poverty, generosity, and purpose. Sadly this is my first chance at blogging in almost a week. I should have time tomorrow and hopefully my brain will be working by then. Well, as much as it ever is.

The Good Samaritan

The good Samaritan is a pretty well-known parable of Jesus. It tells the story of a traveling man from Jerusalem to Jericho who is mugged: his money and cloak are stolen and he is left to die on the side of a road. A priest walks by and immediately moves to the other side and doesn't help. The next man, a Levite (a part of the holy tribe of Israel) walks to the other side of the road and doesn't help either. The third man, a lowly Samaritan takes pity on the man and dresses his wounds in expensive supplies. He even pays to put the man in an inn and covers all his expenses until he is well. This is Jesus' interpretation of a true neighbor, and the way to inherit eternal life.

9:30 at night. Pitch black, raining and in the middle of nowhere--with a flat tire. I was just thinking earlier that day that I was so fortunate to have no car problems so far. I guess pretending to be a New York City taxi driver in heavy construction was a silly idea to my poor old front tires. While I was at a Burger King trying to figure out what to do, a group of people who, by the way they were dressed, I could tell were very religious. I don't want to give away what religion it was as I think it might be unfair to the group as a whole, but I was NOT IMPRESSED.

They watched me try to put a can of fix-a-flat in my tire before the several-years-old can exploded chemicals all over my face, eyes and clothes.
They then watched me empty my trunk, only covering for a few moments my very out of state license plate, to get out a spare tire.
They watched me struggle to see what i was doing in the dark.
They knew I was a young female, in the dark, and alone far from home.
Even so, as one man returned to his truck, he walked briskly by with his head down to pretend he didn't see me. Another lady commented on how annoying it was raining before heading to her car.

Finally, I went up to them to ask them where a tire shop was. They had no answer. "How about Sears?" I asked. "Yes, but they aren't open til 10 tomorrow." "I'll just wait in my car then." I responded and they walked away without even a goodbye. Thank God I have an awesome boyfriend who taught me basic car care so I can function on my own. In the parking lot of an industrial area in front of an independent tire repair shop, I lay half the night shivering and worrying about another flash flood or police and also pondering the story of the good Samaritan. I never really believed a devote person to any religion would fail to help a stranger in need. Why would someone dress in such a manner that it was obvious what their beliefs were, and then fail to adhere to those very edicts? I felt like crying not because I was in dire need, because I managed just fine, but because I COULD have been and I was ignored.

Too bad in Pennsylvania there aren't any Samaritans!

(I suffered many chigger bites that are all over me now to get this stupid picture and none of them really turned out so dang it... one is going on this blog to make it worth it)

Homeless in the Northeast

It was sometime during my shower at a ranger station in Massachusetts that I began to wonder. What was the series of events that led me to being 25, living out of my car with no clean laundry or shower for a week and having forest service workers offering me boxes of granola bars and armfuls of water bottles because they thought me to be homeless? Where did I go wrong??

All I needed was a shower. I spent 6 nights in a row in my car which would have been fine, but I was set to do interviews in Boston and I probably smelled. Not the best for getting people to talk to you. In Pennsylvania, a homeless person complimented how clean I was for being homeless ("I never said I was homeless..." I responded sadly) and a couple tried to hand me money when I asked them to fill out a survey. Sad day, I didn't think I looked THAT bad. Anyway, after 5 nights in a car I thought that it was a good idea to get a motel room and have a real shower but Boston is the most expensive city to get hotels in. 100 dollars a night for a Super 8! Are you kidding me?? I would rather sleep in my car and shower at a state park the next morning. Which I was all set to do--until I found out the campground was closed. I'm on a time schedule so even though they kindly tried to direct me to another state park, I was pooped and whiny. A police officer had knocked on my window (again) in the middle of the night to check me out. Thankfully he let me stay but it disturbed my sleep. The night before I was not bothered by anyone, but it was so cold I was waking up every hour or so.

A kind state park worker from Rock Hill, SC took pity on me and arranged for me to shower at the park. I was SO GRATEFUL. He saved me 30 dollars in parking fees and the time and gas to get to the other state park. And his kindness didn't stop there, he offered to take me out to breakfast and we had a good time chatting about wildlife and hunting. Speaking of people from Rock Hill, SC, the couple that took me in and we had SUCH a great time talking, I LOST THEIR INFO. REV. and MRS. STEIN if you are reading this PLEASE email me!! I have a thank you note ready to go but no address to send it to :(

With a shower and clean clothes, I was ready to start my interviews in the Boston area. One thing people in Boston all had in common: MEANNESS. I hope to NEVER visit the city again or get even close. After only 10 minutes of attempting surveys, I almost cried. When people would ignore me or just say "I don't want any." Finally I just started yelling at them as they walked briskly by, "I AM NOT SELLING ANYTHING!!! I'M JUST A STUDENT!" Not a good idea to continue I was acting like a crazy person. Despite how upset I was, I continued searching for people for 4 hours. After that 4 hours, I only got ELEVEN surveys. ELEVEN!!! I stopped a postal worker to ask him where the friendly part of Boston was. "Friendly part of Boston?" He responded in all seriousness, "Oh honey, there's no friendly part of Boston. You are completely out of luck. There's not a nice person in this whole city." Not only was Boston tiring for trying to talk to people, but the driving there was the worst so far in the country, behind Seattle and San Antonio. Utter chaos!!

So that night, I stayed in a 2 bedroom suite in the heart of Providence, RI in a beautiful section of town for the same price as a motel 6 in the area. (50 dollars as compared to 240 for the original price, thank you Charlie for booking it!) I enjoyed my free morning coffee in the sunshine from my balcony, people watching at the cafes below.

Danbury, CT was much better probably because I got a real shower and a place to sleep the night before...and because they weren't from Boston. A super kind yet walking stereotype as he was a hot dog vendor named Tony from Brookyln bought me a hot dog and chatted with me for a while. After wandering around, I ended up at a downtown cafe. The people of the New York/Boston area are so very different from Seattleites or Southerners. They are loud, in your face, sarcastic, and blunt. Even so, I enjoyed this friendly culture and had a good time talking with people. Almost everyone had a snarky comment about happiness and 100% of the interviewees commented on how awful of a place Danbury is. I even had a crowd of high school boys crowding around me begging to fill out surveys. What a refreshing change from Boston!

Then, I was off to visit my friend and coteacher I met in Taiwan who loves New York and Brooklyn with a passion. She's the only person I know who would say, 'I wish you were on the subway with me today! There was a crazy man running around with a knife trying to stab people...!" Sadly I only got to stay for a night and she was crazy busy so we didn't get too much time to hang out.

Driving through New York City is like playing a video game with incredible graphics and it was AMAZING. This morning I felt like making a U-Turn and going back into the city so I could weave through traffic and speed around again, carefully avoiding pedestrians and merging vehicles. Next life: Taxi driver in the big city for sure

Now I'm heading to upstate New York and am gradually heading my way back home. Thanks again to all those who donated and hosted me along the way, there is no way I could have done this without you. By the way, hiking in the Appalachian mountains was so beautiful. I could have stayed in Vermont and New Hampshire forever!

10,000 Miles and Counting

Statistics as of 9/14/2011:

View Happiness Ahead Project in a larger map
*10,029 miles driven in 38 days
*Average 264 miles every day
*5 hr 15 minutes driving a day (not including stops and in-town speed limits)
*24 trips to the gas station
*Cheapest gas: Oklahoma @ 3.23/gal
*Most expensive gas: New York @4.55/gal (I cried)
*Around 400 people in 18 cities in 18 states interviewed
*31 states visited

The sad thing is, I still have 13 more cities to visit. According to Google maps, from Orange, NJ to Bellevue, WA is 5,100 miles. That's if I stick to the main high ways (shudder) and take no detours. A long way to go!

Next entry: Experiences in the beautiful Appalachian mountains of New Hampshire, confusion with several people thinking I'm homeless, me yelling at strangers in Boston, and weaving the streets of Brooklyn, New York like I've been doing it for years.

Amish Paradise

Even though I had completely given up on seeing any Amish in Pennsylvania, I was still hoping to creepy stalk in Ohio or Iowa. Driving in upstate New York, so far north the border was only a few miles away, I did not expect to see a horse and buggy parked in front of a gas station. Immediately my creepy stalking began. A lucky donor will receive a jar of homemade apple butter I bought from a young Amish mother. Just having a roadside interaction was not satisfying so I decided to take some back roads. Finally after some direction I ended up quite far off the highway to talk with a man who directed me to his Amish friend. "Tell him Rally sent ya to check things out and tell John if he doesn't give you a tour, then Rally's gonna come up there and kick his butt." I laughed and headed in the direction I was told to go.

Remember, I am an INFJ. NOT an ENFJ. (google your 4-letter result and click on the personality page description of your personality) Going up to talking to a stranger is really difficult for me...especially to try to ask them to let me in their house!! One time, when I accidentally let slip my secret creepy admiration of the Amish, my friend responded with, "I'm waiting for the punchline." No punchline.

I noticed it was the right house right away because his was the one with ramps along every entrance. Out in the middle of nowhere in upstate New York, this was not the typical tourist destination so to have a stranger walk up to your house was an event. The girls, all dressed in long blue dresses with dark green or purple aprons and navy blue bonnets covering their long, fair hair, immediately gathered around with curious and excited looks in their eyes. They were too shy to answer many of my questions but they looked happy, not frightened. When I asked to speak to Mr. John, they all padded barefoot indoors to get their father.

A man in a wide-brimmed straw hat with dark curls jutting out from under and a long, dark beard on his chin wheeled his way to see what was up. I immediately began to stutter and to think this was a really bad idea. 7 curious faces were all upon me now. He ended up being very kind and open and showed me his workshop and talked about their way of life and how he became paralyzed. How difficult that would be in a culture where the man has a real responsibility to take care of a large family and work with his hands. "5 years ago on Wednesday, I fell in an accident that change my life," he said sadly has he wheeled himself around the workshop. "It's still hard, but I had to accept it. The hardest part is not being able to do all the things I used to love. I used to love to run." We both sat in silence, both wondering why we bother with plans when everything can change in an instant.

I still felt so shy the entire time. For so long I have admired them so to meet a family was just so neat. When I was younger, I thought well, I'll go join the Amish when I am old enough. Of course that was a silly idea as realistically that just doesn't happen. Plus, although living without electricity or running water seems like it would be a major adjustment, the lack of freedom especially for women would really be the point that would keep me away. Besides, who's ever heard of an Amish Catholic?

I think now the reason why I admired them so much because I have admired community and being a good neighbor from the time I was a child and the Amish really have that community. Of course, in every community no matter where you are and modern American culture is no different to this, you have to live by a set of rules. The Amish standards are very strict so if you don't fit in that box, unfortunately life can be very hard for you. My social psychology teacher when we first started class asked if it was easier to live outside the box in an individualistic culture like the Americans or a group-minded culture like the Japanese. I knew the answer but most people assumed it would be Americans. No, actually it's equally hard for both cultures if you don't fit in.

We waved good bye after about an hour and he returned to his woodworking business and I drove on, really wondering...what would it be like?

Watery Maze of Death

So I decided on my way north to Scranton, PA, I would go creepy stalk the Amish as I've had a strange obsession with them as long as I can remember. I had two choices:

a. Proceed quickly north to avoid possible closed roads and flood damage.
or
b. Ignore warnings and move into the side roads in hope of spotting the Amish in their own turf.

The correct answer was a.
I chose b.

I stopped at a town right next to the river and watched the water overtake a park. Deciding maybe it was a good idea to move more inland and uphill, I turned northeast on side roads. It would have been so much better if all the roads would have just been dead ends due to flooding, but I was driving around AS the river and creek water was rapidly rising, spilling over banks and overwhelming the sewer systems. It was sort of like a nightmare because I would start driving down a side road, really not knowing where I was or where I was going, then the water would start spilling out from the right, covering the road.

I would make a U turn and try another. After 5 hours of repeating this process and continuing to watch the roads wash out before my eyes and in a couple of instances trapping me between flooded roads, I decided to stay in the ghetto town of Lebanon. This was the town I least wanted to be in, but the 7 exits out were all flooded and closed. So I stayed at a Quality Inn parking lot to see if it would be any better the next morning.

Today was the first day I washed my hair in a Dunkin Donuts bathroom. I thought I had no shame before but the disgusted look on the old couple's faces when they saw me emerge from the ladies' room with a towel around my hair and a shower caddy in my hands, I realized I think I have hit an all time low. Worse than the make-shift showers in my bikini outside rest stop bathrooms or brushing my teeth from a public fountain. I probably shouldn't be putting this in writing either.

So, all in all I'm ok. I'm heading towards more flood damage in New York but the waters have begun to recede.

Oh yeah, and after all that effort, I never saw one Amish person.

Goodbye, Dixieland

Keepin' it classy, Tennesee:

The overwhelming heat of the south broke in the matter of a few minutes while I was in Cincinnati. My friend commented, "Oh, there's no way it can rain *that* long." It hasn't stopped raining since Sunday (and it's now Thursday). Silly Phil. I've learned better than to make statements like that. However, the rain and cool weather is a much welcomed change from the stifling heat that kept me from good sleep. Last night I passed out at a rest stop for 10 hours straight.

I've been pondering my experiences in Appalachia since I left yesterday. I drove for 12 hours thinking about what to write and how to describe the people I met along the way. The best I can come up with is I just didn't have enough time. Two days getting inside information from people that have lived in Appalachia for fifteen years and 3 hours with some locals is not nearly enough time to get a real feel for the area and the culture. I really regret having had to leave so early.

How did I meet the people that I stayed with? Well, by knocking on their front door and introducing myself! Rather, they were family friends with a girl that I had met and stayed at her house in Arkansas. She told me about what they did and I was fascinated and immediately trusted them. After all, they were missionaries in the deaf community in east Africa. As my boyfriend put it, you can't get any more noble than working in deaf orphanages in third world countries. Even so, when I arrived shortly before dark, miles from the nearest sizable town and up a windy mountain road in the pouring rain, I did wonder....what was I thinking?? My view from the car: My aunt warned: Banjos: ok. Toothless men: Ok. Banjos and toothless men= RUN AWAY. The couple, however, ended up (of course) being incredibly kind, fun, and full of knowledge. We spent hours discussing cultures and poverty and all that deep stuff we boring people talk about. Yes, I even think I said, "Well, I was listening to NPR and..." Gross. I promised myself I would never do that.

The lady of the house and I drove to a small event called Girl Talk which is sort of like an all-girl youth group meeting. A lot of girls who come from hard life backgrounds will have a very tough attitude and wonder, "What do YOU want?" But these high school aged girls were extremely open and friendly and welcoming. I genuinely had a good time chatting with them and listening to their stories. At the end of the night, we gave the girls a ride home and I realized what kind of lives they had to go back to. The first girl lived miles from the last street light to a trailer out in the middle of nowhere. We did this drive in the dark...believe me I was praying the car worked fine and no creepy strangers walked out in the middle of the road. Although the next girl was shy and quiet, she really perked up when she talked about wanting to be a vet and how she liked math. I tried my best to let her know that it was an excellent idea and she seemed to think, hey, cool, someone else thinks it's a good idea. Yet sure enough, we dropped her off back to a trailer filled with drugs, an angry father, and a boyfriend 9 YEARS her senior. In a culture where you don't rise above your peers or your family as it's seen as prideful, I seriously hope she'll graduate from high school. If the young poor in communities that don't value rising above the flock don't succeed, can you really blame them? Again, how LUCKY I was to be born in the family I was with the money and education to at least have a springboard to go where I want.

Does everyone in Appalachia do meth, live in a trailer, and hope for a welfare check? Absolutely not. One thing I found really neat about the culture is those who work hard and teach their children to earn an honest living are content with less. A 1000 sq ft house is a blessing and why would a person need more?

Yesterday I drove through the rest of Tennessee and Virginia admiring the beauty of the Appalachians, the rolling hills, and the deciduous trees beginning their fall cycle. Last night was at a rest stop because I thought the idea of staying overnight in a place called Gore would be a little unsafe.

Gore, VA is an unincorporated town in northwest Virginia, just minutes from West Virginia. This is by far the smallest town I have been to yet. Because of this, I was worried on how the residents would respond to me. It turns out, they were the most open and friendly so far! There was no awkward stage where I tried to get to know a local to get an in with the other townspeople. Everyone greeted me with a smile and was eager to help out a stranger. One man even paid for my coffee and muffin, then bought me lunch (which I used for lunch AND dinner). I guess this amazes me so much because I was figuring they would be just like Ozark, AR and I would be basically kicked out of town. I don't know why I keep on making assumptions cause I'm never right.

Speaking of assumptions, I am heading to the North now. I loved the South. Everyone I know makes fun of them but boy, they opened their arms wide and were very kind to me.

North, your move.

The Last of the Real White Americans

The first stop I made in Tennessee I saw more muddy Fords and Chevy trucks, giant belt buckles and heard more "Boy, you'd better git" than I have heard this whole trip combined. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. Even so, it's pretty impressive to experience intense culture shock at a gas station off I-40 even though I have already been in the South for three weeks now. Woodbury, TN, about an hour southeast of Nashville, was just the same. I parked at a gas station to attempt to interview customers. The old Ford F150 parked next to me had the doors unlocked and the keys in the ignition. It turned out, that was one of the employees cars: he wasn't just going in and out. How incredible would it to live in a place where you can do that without worry!
Getting people to fill out my survey in a town that doesn't really care too much about tourists or research was a little difficult but I kept at it and finally got the surveys I needed. The last store open at 8 PM was McDonald's so I ended my day there. As Friday night got later, more and more couples shuffled in wearing pajamas. In fact, I think you were the minority of you wore jeans. I tried not to judge and all I'll say is I made a valiant effort. One of the minorities dressed nicely helped me out by filling out surveys. They struck up a conversation and we had a nice chat until, on their way out, they said "Oh no, I forgot to put my level of happiness!"
"That's ok, don't worry about it."
"Well, my happiness is a 10. I'm the one who put real American on the race!" They waved goodbye and I tried to gather my thoughts because it came so out of nowhere. Good thing though because if I hadn't been taken so far aback, I probably would have jumped them. Sure enough, on the demographics section where you *circle* a race in a list of options, in clear print, he had written,

"White--the last of the REAL Americans"

Well, lucky me. If I got nothing else from this trip, at least I got to interview the LAST OF THE REAL AMERICANS. Good grief.

A night out in Nashville was in store after a long day of work and I hit the bars to listen to some good American music. There were a lot of frat boys in Walmart cowboy hats but also many genuine country folk. I walked from bar to bar listening to anything from country covers, to fiddle and banjo, to even an amazing performance of yodeling. Especially the band that had the yodeler was just incredible.

After Nashville, I spent the weekend with a friend I had met studying in Japan 5 years ago. He treated me out to a fun weekend and a MUCH needed break. We even got to see a great firework show. Now, I'm on my way back to Tennessee to spend time in Appalachian culture. I'm a pretty nervous, which is normal, but hopefully I'll be able to understand more people and broaden my world view.