"I heard the moose are out on the Western side."

Off to Rocky Mountain National Park!

Takin' Care of Business...In a Flash!

Here we are, in the middle of nowhere Texas hill country, just the three of us. That’s right – we picked up a passenger! Our good friend Kate, who was in Peace Corps with us, came along for the ride to Boulder, Colorado. She’ll be sticking with us probably all the way through Vegas. The real Vegas, this time, with a Las in front of it instead of a Nash.

Anyway, let me catch you up on our adventures, because it’s been awhile since our last real post (I don’t count that bit about the deer legs in the back of the Texan pickups as a real post…do you?).

It was a long drive from the farm in Arkansas. We retraced our steps just one state south of where we’d headed west across Missouri, driving back east across Arkansas for the first five hours. And then…we arrived in Memphis. We toured Graceland, and that’s where we adopted Elvis Presley’s slogan, “Takin’ Care of Business…in a Flash!” Why? Because it’s hilarious. And stellar. And, it's what we've been doing: flashing through the continental United States, one by one, and takin' care of lots of business. Here's how Elvis signifies his ability to TCB on the wall of his TV room in the basement:

 Here are some pictures of Elvis’ first floor, since you’re obviously curious (everyone is):

 It’s basically like watching a time-warped episode of MTV Cribs. But they don’t let you upstairs. We got to see a lot of cool things, but our favorite by far was the pool room in the basement. Check it out:

I wasn’t actually allowed to lean that far over the table, which I found out when the alarm went off, but it’s winter, there aren’t too many tourists, and the guards could see I was harmless. So I got away with it. (Also, look at the ceiling!) Elvis (like Leiha) really likes carpeted walls, too:

Before we left Memphis, we stopped for lunch at Gus’s World Famous Hot & Spicy Fried Chicken. Please don’t ask me how that was. If I think of it now, I might be tempted to drive back to Memphis and never leave again.

I’m going to skip around a bit here, because I want to let Leiha write about New Orleans, which is where we went next. At least, I want to let her do justice to the NOLA nightlife, since she’s the one who enjoyed it. I went home at 2am…and anyone who’s ever heard of Bourbon Street knows that’s basically the definition of a party pooper.

Leiha’s high school friend Lyndsay (think awesome) flew down from Boston for a weekend in The Big Easy. We picked her up at the airport, and all three of us enjoyed the Southern hospitality of a family that represents just about two and a half centuries of New Orleans history. And that is a HUGE shoutout to Marielle and her parents. And the street named after their family.

Oh. And I have to tell you about the ghost tour. Carla, our tour guide, took us through the Lafayette Cemetery and New Orleans’ Garden District. She was a smash hit. Not only did she know all of the neighborhood ghost stories, but she also knew the neighbors. She knew them so well, in fact, that one of them joined our tour, and then let us have a look around his beautiful mansion. Which used to be a church and is now haunted by two priests – one good and one bad. In the moment, stories of housekeepers and cooks who had felt phantoms slap them across the face for using foul language seemed pretty intriguing, but now that my disbelief is no longer suspended, I’m more interested in the fact that Nicholas Cage, who once owned the house, replaced the gorgeous stained glass windows with plexiglass. Plexiglass? Really, Ghost Rider?

Enter…Texas. The Alamo, The San Antonio River Walk, Texas barbecue in Austin, and a long, long drive through the state and up the Texas panhandle, across the Oklahoma panhandle, and onto a Rocky Mountain High. More on THAT coming soon.

Deer legs in rigor mortis popping up over the walls of a pickup truck bed...We must be in Texas.

No, No...A Cross Country Food Crawl, For Sure

When we took off from Heath’s house, bidding a sweet farewell to his basement and other tricks, we twisted and winded our backroads way up to I-70W. Speeding-I-mean-speed-limiting through Indiana and Illinois, we arrived at the Gateway to the West.

Leaving St. Louis about 20 minutes later, we hit our first traffic jam of the roadtrip.

more cars than we'd seen in one place since the East Coast

We plugged through the traffic, then horizontally bisected the state of Missouri to arrive in Independence, home of Harry Truman and Leiha’s cousin Lisa, who rocks. She has the cutest little blue house, and it was close to everything. We were fed to the gills, flattered to the core, and very kindly invited to crash Lisa’s friend Linda’s birthday party. The party was at the Flamingo Lounge, and there was a pretty stellar classic rock cover band called Charlie and the Stingrays (check them out!) that played their first show in 1985. Yes, the band was born the same year as we were.

the birthday girl and her hubby Terry

two beautiful cousins, Lisa and Leiha

rocking out to Charlie and The Stingrays

While in Missouri, we also visited Harry Truman’s house, but didn’t take the $4 tour, because that would have cut into our barbecue budget.

HST's home in Independence, MO

             

Ah, the KC barbecue budget. Let me tell you something about traveling across America: It involves a LOT of eating. And there’s absolutely no way around that. There was Geiger’s cheese soup in Virginia, wings at the line dancing establishment in Nashville, Farm Boy in Kentucky, barbecue in Kansas City (oh, the barbecue!), and now we’ve had fresh farm produce (yum!) and a meal at a local brewery in Arkansas. We’re looking at more barbecue in Memphis, who-knows-what-kind-of-Cajun-food in New Orleans, some acclaimed fried chicken from a truck in Austin, and again, who-knows-what in Colorado. Basically, when you drive your way across the USA, you’re also obligated to eat your way across the USA. Jiggly love handles, ho!

Not that we’re complaining. This barbecue was worth some jiggle.

yes, i made this photo extra large, because it deserves it.

Mmm mmm mmm…thank you, Molly and Caleb, sweet old friends of Leiha’s, for introducing us to Jack Stack’s burnt ends and ribs. And I will never, ever forget the cheesy corn. Break my little heart right into my small intestine…because that was delicious. Another thank you to Molly and Caleb for your quite eclectic CDs (eclectic as in: Beyonce selections from Destiny’s Child to Put a Ring On It, Christian rock, and a several unidentifiables…oh, and two Christmas songs). Here's your shoutout:

from left to right: Ryan, Josh, Leiha, Lisa, Laura, Molly, and Caleb. and in front, a statue of a little boy peeing...and behind, that's a Starbucks full of entertained onlookers.

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And now, we're chillin’ at James and Jane’s farm in Winslow, Arkansas (population 399…true story), using their wifi, and staring out at the rolling vista of the Boston Mountains. We've been spending most of our time here reminiscing about Peace Corps, remembering terms such as "safi duka," watching this guy's awesome and felicitous youtube videos about the PCV life in Tanzania, and wondering, "What the hell were we thinking?" Also, a question for anyone who was NOT ever in the Peace Corps: Does this PSA make sense to you? How does it make you feel about trying Peace Corps?

Please share! We're wild with curiosity! We think it's hilarious, but it seems to us that it would only be relevant if you've actually done it.

And...a hike later today, at Devil's Den State Park, and tomorrow morning, we're on the road again! Are you lonesome tonight, Graceland? Because tomorrow, we're comin' to see the king! 

Go West Young (wo)Man, Go West!

It's 1pm on Wednesday and here I am, sitting shotgun in Tamara Natasha, a big cheshire cat smile spread across my face. The past 24 hours have been a rush of ridiculous fun and I feel compelled to share the details immediately.

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We pulled into Nashville just as the sun retired for the night, checked into our choice accommodation at the Music City Hostel, and selected that night's outfits from our dresser (also known as a car trunk, or perhaps a boot). As Laura busied herself posting the events of the past few days, I contacted an old high school comrade to meet up with us in our quest to take downtown by ze great storm. On the agenda, the only thing on our agenda mind you: line dancing. And dancing in (something that may possibly be described as) a line we did! Tim, Laura and I twitched, twisted and twirled our way around The Wild Horse Saloon to our ho-down hearts content, and then some. A gold star for our efforts, for sure. (Only a few times did I misstep due to an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Okay, maybe a few more than few. Between the expressions of Laura's seriousness and Tim's bafflement, what do you expect from me?!) Before departing the saloon as the last patrons of the establishment, we showed our appreciation for all that is Nashvegas by serenading the staff and house band with a genuine rock-out Journey jam, requested by none other than our very own Ms. Mueller. (Are we surprised? C'mon now.)

Around the corner and up a few blocks, we were then wooed by the melodies of the Chris Weaver Band from the upper deck of The Stage. I ask, "Hey Laura, how would you describe the sound of this C. Weaver?" Not missing a beat, Laura replies. "Sexy." A few self-written titles later, Mr. Weaver shouts from the stage, "Are there any requests out there?" Poised on her barstool perch, Laura exclaims, "JOURNEY!!!" (Again, are we surprised?!) As if there weren't another soul in the room, Chris and Laura made that cosmic connection… somewhere in the niiiiiiiiiigggghhhttttt, followed by stellar guitar solos. Yes, our dear blog-a-ma-bobbers, for the second time this night, Tim and I found ourselves laughing in disbelief as we scrambled to meet our third amigo, already rocking out to C. Weaver's Journey cover on the dance floor. (Do us a favor and check out the guys who made our night that much more grand: www.chrisweaverband.com)

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How else should we greet the wintry morning air of Nashville than by a brisk jog around the block, practicing our right hooks and upper jabs against the snowflakes? (Yes, we understand that it's winter, obviously. But it wasn't until just now as the radio announcer stated that Florida is the only state, of the 50 United States of America, to not have snow on the ground did we stop to consider the possibility of a mass conspiracy. What?! Think about it! Even Hawaii has snow! Hmph. What is wrong with this picture? Nothing, absolutely nothing. We have brand new snow tires and a few more tupperware containers of Mama Mueller's leftovers. So, Florida, enjoy your snow-less state of being. We are just fine out here on the road, rocking out to our friends' cds, watching the snowflakes dodge Tamara Natasha's windshield wipers.)

So a Brit, two Ozzies, and a Kiwi are sitting across the table… This was breakfast at Cafe Coco. The Kiwi and Brit were our bunk mates at the hostel and introduced us to the two Ozzies as we walked up the street toward breakfast. Tim met up with us again, giving me a second chance to completely forget to document our reunion with a click of the camera. At least we have his nothing-to-do-with-nashville-country-but-still-an-amazing-mix cd to indie-rock out to.

And now, parked in the parking lot of the wrong Waffle House in Bowling Green, Kentucky, we wait for our next host to find us. A scavenger hunt, of sorts? Turns out that he meant the other Waffle House on this street.

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(Cue Leiha sitting shotgun, again, 24 hours later… GAH!!! I'M LOVING THIS!!!)

So after Heath, our friend from 'The Core', found us at Waffle House he quickly proposed 2 options for how we could spend our afternoon, of which only the second needs to be mentioned. Option #2: a boat tour of the Lost River Cave. Excuse me?! This girl doesn't need to think twice! (thankfully, my partner-in-everything-road-trip agreed) Boat.Cave.Adventure. Yes, please! (Hands down, this may end up being one of my favorite experiences of this entire trip.)

In snapshots:

• being escorted over the Lost River, past the blue/green pool and down into the mouth of the cave to board our metal monster of a boat.
• ducking, crouching on the bottom of our boat beast in order to avoid grazing our heads on the underside of the cave ceiling.
• listening to our expert tour guide and picking his brain on everything/anything that entered my mind re:developing on and around the cave
• being proposed to on the steps of the 30s era night club stage, out of business but still nestled in the entrance of the cave… :)

(www.lostrivercave.com)

While we were still glowing from the surprises of the afternoon, Heath treated Laura and I to dinner at The Farm Boy. If you ever wondered what a small town Kentucky restaurant boasts for the 'daily' specials, you'll have to visit Morgantown and be pleasantly surprised yourself. The corn nuggets actually have kernels of corn in them, and the chicken livers taste better with barbecue sauce. (Laura insists that you try the fried apples.) After masticating our orders of everything fried and hearty, we grabbed our overnight bags from our dresser and met Mr. & Mrs. Ray who say, "it isn't an empty nest until they move their stuff out of the basement." Trust me on this one, the reason for this quote is something you must see for yourself (think 3D scrapbook, perhaps?).

So here we are, car cruising out of Kentucky, gearing up to capture our next welcoming state signs of Indiana and Illinois. We're en route to cross the mighty Mississippi, pass through the gateway to the west and be at my cousin Lisa's in Independence, Missouri by sunset. Hey, Harry Truman! We're coming on over!

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A Cross Country Snow Crawl?

I know you’re wondering. Did they get lost in the backwoods of Virginia at pitch black 4:30am?  Did Laura squeal with delight while maneuvering the treacherous switchbacks on the mountain roads leading to the Blue Ridge Parkway? Did they survive that icy blizzard in the hills of North Carolina and the Great Smoky Mountains? Have they feasted on the leftovers Mama Mueller packed for them before they left Randolph?

And the answers, my friends, would be a neat package of resounding yesses (with a few girlish shrieks from Leiha ripping through the paper).

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We left Geiger (dear, extraordinary Geiger and her lovely family – shout out to Cullen and their two beautiful boys!) and Fairfax, VA at 4am on Monday morning. Our goal was to get to Skyline Drive, which feeds into the Blue Ridge Parkway, by sunrise. Well, we got there with plenty of time to spare. Turns out, the sun doesn’t rise these days until nearly 7:30. We got to the beginning of Skyline Drive at Front Royal, VA at 4:30am. (Ahem...three hours early.) So we starting driving. Continue on our way, we thought, and the sun will just have to catch up to us as we travel southwest. Well, the sun had no such plans.

Skyline Drive was barricaded 5 miles in.  No thru traffic because of snow and ice. Bummer. Back northeast for us. We made our way over some mountains and back to I-81S and drove for awhile, meeting up with the sun further east than we’d intended.

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I have a 2-year-old nephew who likes to climb into a spinning chair at my parents’ house and entreat, “Go wee?” until you twirl the chair (and him), at which point he starts squealing, “Wee!”

Now I know how he feels. The eventual detour we took off of the interstate to the Blue Ridge Parkway was nearly 35 miles long, and it was a slithering weave of a drive that swirled through the mountains and twizzled itself into such knots that we passed both ends of the same intersecting road. I was exhilarated. In fact, I couldn’t stop myself from squealing “wee!” as I hit the gas (and then quickly the break – what do you want from me? I’m a wuss at heart) and whirled around the curves like nobody’s business. Feeling like my nephew in the spinning chair.

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Cut to crossing the North Carolina border. And send a massive shoutout to my brother Brian, who spent part of his Friday afternoon putting snow tires on my car (my car’s name, by the way, is Tamara Natasha – I couldn’t decide on just one).

The snow wasn’t so bad initially, and the highways were pretty clear, but our NC hostess Brenda definitely does not live on the highway. She has a gorgeous, secluded log cabin (and it does somehow manage to be a cabin, despite its size and opulent amenities) on a bluff overlooking the Johns River on one side and being dwarfed by Grandfather Mountain on another.

The narrow mountain roads from I-40W to her house were unplowed and unsalted. We crawled along in the tracks of cars – actually, mostly trucks – that had already passed. But it was worth it, if only to know that my snow tires could tread up her driveway, which was quite steep and completely uncleared. Tamara Natasha’s were the first tire tracks to compress those four inches of snow.

And, again, it was worth it. We had a wonderful time with Brenda, my aunt’s old college tennis coach, who is almost excessively sweet (and has such comfortable beds!). Actually, she told me a lot about my family’s past from a very interesting perspective (look out Aunt Kathy – I’ve got ammo!).

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And as for those leftovers…well, we told you about the snow. Let me now tell you about the jokes we’ve been making about the time of year we ended up rolling across the nation in a little front wheel drive Honda Accord with two names. And also the funny looks we see as kind, responsible people ask us why on earth we’re doing this in January.

We stopped at a rest stop and a (very cold) picnic area off of I-40W just after we crossed from North Carolina into Tennessee. We took out the cooler in which we’d packed a couple of tupperwares full of pasta and steak and turkey and chicken on a stick. And my mom’s chocolate chip whoopee pies and pumpkin bread. And meatballs. And some pre-cut cheese. All before we left New Jersey over 48 hours earlier.

As we dug in to our free meal from my mother’s kitchen, I think Leiha made the best observation of the trip so far when she said, “If we were doing this trip in the summer, we couldn’t have kept the food so long!” Well done, winter roadtrip. Well done.

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To Katie, Re: music tastes. I didn’t know you had been a thug in the early 90s. Nor did I know you were a fan of Forrest Gump’s mother...and by that I mean that your 3-CD set is like a box of chocolates: We never know what we’re gonna get. (As Leiha puts it, “A delightful assortment of…what?”) In other news, this is for you:

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Oh, hello Nashville. It's nice to see you again. Want to go line dancing?

TIME CHECK!

"Hey, the countdown says we're leaving in 2hrs and 19min!" Leiha exclaims.
"Yeah, we'll just pack the car in the morning." Laura replies.

...and the anticipation builds.

The Starting Line...and an Appeal from Adventurer Laura M.

We're in the starting gate, hoofing the dirt. Sort of. We're missing two crucial elements: a packed car and CDs.

The packed car, well, we can take care of that ourselves. It's just a matter of transforming a messy explosion of my possessions (see challenge, below) into some sort of organized representation of a legitimate life, stuffed into a packable vessel (or vessels).

        

My Life as a Packing Challenge: View #1

My Life as a Packing Challenge: View #2

The music, however, is where you all come in. 12,000 miles on the road and the Honda's radio scan button just isn't going to cut it. In an appeal for our sanities, we're asking every family member, friend, and exciting roadside stranger we see, meet, or befriend from now until Saint Patrick's Day to make us a mix CD. That's right. A 2001-style compact disc, because as far as I can tell, my car doesn't have an auxiliary jack and my iPod won't hold that many playlists anyway.

So please - if you can spare ten minutes (we'll provide the blank CD), put together a playlist of 15 of your favorite songs and burn it for us. We want to take a little bit of you with us in the car.

We've already discovered - thanks to our drive from DC to Randolph - the euphoria of having an assortment of CDs from a bunch of creative and truly unique people. It's fun to realize how people's personalities present themselves in their musical tastes. (For my DC friends: According to their respective CDs, Billy Fett is a rock star, Miranda is a uniquely perceptive musical savant, and Jon S. is a supremely mellow soul. I'll get back to you on Katie and Hilary.)

This is my last pre-departure post. That means the next one will be much more intense and adventureful. Brace yourself.

How'd I get here?! Where? Here!

Okay! Since Laura and I are tag-teaming this blog-a-ma-bob, I guess I’m due for a post. It’d been more than a few hours of sitting here, perusing our blog and pictures and such, wondering just how to start... before it hit me. Why not start where I left off?! There may be quite a few of you out there that will be reading our posts after following my own spew of mass emails from my days in PC-Tanzania. To you, I apologize for the repetitiveness that is about to occur. Here’s my background story, in excerpts from an email I sent on July 11, 2010:

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I closed my contract with Peace Corps Tanzania on Friday 2 July under the terms of interrupted service. Here's the short story: There were a few issues that suddenly jumped out of nowhere in late May, ultimately jeopardizing my sense of security as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Tanzania. After sitting in my Mangio home away from sweet home for a few weeks, trying to psych myself out of my fears, I came to this conclusion: I had to come home for my lil sis Ashley Rae's wedding (no question about that!) but I couldn't foresee myself being 101% committed to go back to Mangio to teach just a few weeks before my kids’ exams in November and then sit on my butt through late December when my Peace Corps contract officially expired...

So, what's next in the life of Leiha?

Announcing (drum roll please)

Leiha's Amazing Couch Cushion Crawl!
What is it all about? Well, I say - it’s about Leiha taking advantage of this limbo-like state of life. That's what it is! I want to hear AND SEE what you're up to! Finally meet your new significant other, finance, wife, husband, offspring, pet. Check out your newest apartment or house. Learn more about your line of work or masters or doctorate program. See the sunrise or sunset from your corner of the country. You know, learn about your life as YOU have been living it for the past 3 years. Let's catch up.

For an unlimited time only (maybe until my money runs out or opening day at Fenway) I will be available to crash on your couch and catch up on life...I'll be transporting myself around the continental United States using the various inexpensive modes of transportation available.

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So there you have it, an abbreviated version of the last mass email Leiha Update.

As I started collecting the names of people who would welcome a couch crawler, I googled and pinned each friend/family’s location for reference, creating a digital map of delight. Meanwhile, I was speed-dialing Ms. Laura Mueller’s ear off lamenting the cross-cultural-craziness that had become my life those first few months back in the land of milk and honey. When I mentioned to her that this couch crawl proposal was developing into more than a possibility, we both decided to take it a step further, of course. Nothing can be ordinary when the extraordinary is within reach. Combining my pre-pinned places of interest with her own potential destinations (or as Captain Planet would declare: With our powers combined!) we spawned Ze Great L&L Cross Country Couch Crawl & Car Cruise!

So, upon couch crawling myself through the residents of friends and family in 12 states, I am now stuck in a travelling limbo here in DC, awaiting my fearless travelling companion as she readies herself for the super adventure^2 that will consume 10 weeks of our mid-twenties.

3 days and counting!!!

Post Script
Here’s where I’ve been so far:

July 3, 2010: arrived back in Boston as an RPCV
Massachusetts
Connecticut
Vermont
Maine
New Hampshire
Rhode Island
Vermont

December 4, 2010: Leiha’s InCredible Couch Crawl
Florida
Georgia
Washington, DC
(drive through Delaware)
New Jersey
New York
Maryland
Washington, DC
West Virginia
Washington, DC