….A lot of time in the car…

I was growing curious as to whether or not I was losing any weight so I stopped at a truck stop and put a quarter into the scales that seemed to be common place at truck stops throughout the country.  I found out that I weighed as much as I did when I started the trip three months ago.  I knew that couldn’t be right so I found another truck stop and weighed myself again, only to find out that I lost a lot more weight than expected. Clearly, these scales were all off and I had no reason to trust either of them.

Charlotte

While traveling around like I have, I found myself in some untimely situations.  I really wanted to see Charlotte in the daytime and it was now around 9 o’clock, which meant it was obviously dark.  If I’m not sleeping in a hotel or have nobody to stay with, I often times had to find ways to pass time.  The night before Charlotte was one of those nights.  I quit my traveling for the night about 30 minutes north of the city with the idea of getting up at the crack of dawn.

Wasting time with nothing constructive to do is quite a task in itself.  I walked around stores, I parked outside of hotels to use wi-fi on my computer, and I searched for a safe place to sleep in my car.

Using the laptop in the car at night was good in the past because I could update the website.  I would plug the laptop into an adapter that plugged into the car’s cigarette lighter, voila’, I could update the website.

Things were different at this point than they were at  prior spots on the trip.  The adapter blew up and I my website folder was corrupted. Without the ability to plug in, the laptop ran out of power within an hour and I had no means to charge it. I had to wait for a coffee shop to open in order to plug in the computer.

After a mediocre night of sleep in my car next to a state trooper car at a rest stop, I got up first thing in the morning and did a little driving around Charlotte and quickly proceeded onward through South Carolina on my way to Atlanta.  I wanted to make it near Jacksonville, FL. by the time I pulled over to sleep for the night.

Revolutionary War battle site

I only passed through the small northwestern section of South Carolina, but I found another unexpected history lesson along the way.

I kept seeing signs for Kings Mountain National Military Park.  I’m not sure if I would normally stop, but since I had the National Parks Pass and I could get into any park with it, I figured “Why not?”

It turns out that Kings Mountain is considered the first “major patriot ” battle win after the British invaded.  I also found out that most battles in South Carolina during the Revolutionary War were fought between Americans loyal to England and those who sought independence. The battle of Kings Mountain was a battle between Americans and their ideals. Luckily, the separatists victories began persuading the Loyalist to switch sides, and the rest of the Revolutionary War is history.

It’s amazing how much history I have learned about America while on this trip.

Kings Mountain wasn’t the most exciting of places to visit, but it was informational.

I made a stop at Clemson University in South Carolina as well.  It should also be noted that the cheapest I paid for gas in the contiguous 48 states was in South Carolina at $1.38/gallon.

I checked out the Clemson Tiger’s stadium and headed for Stone Mountain Georgia.

I had no idea that Stone Mountain was a privately funded park.  My parks pass didn’t cover the entrance fee.

Once again, the history of America came to life at this stop.  Stone Mountain is commemorative carving in the side of the mountain.  It is in honor the Confederate Generals and the Confederate President, Jefferson Davis.

There were commemorative plaques on the ground acknowledging the many states secession from the Union.  I’m not sure how I feel about such monuments.  Sure it’s a work of art and enjoyable to view, but is it a tribute to America’s history or is it a tribute to those who tried to divide our united nation?  I’m not sure.  I suppose that is a good debate for another time and place.  Either way, Stone Mountain is a gorgeous park filled with joggers, bikers, and tourist.

They were in the process of putting together Snow Mountain while I was there too.  Artificial snow being blown out of machines to create a small hill for people to ski, play, or whatever the deemed worthy on Snow Mountain.

until next time Atlanta

I made it through Atlanta after stopping to check out the Georgia Dome and Olympic Park.

It was getting dark by this time and Friday rush hour traffic was starting to get in full-swing.  I needed to hit the road again.

I made it to Savannah, Ga. just in time to sleep.  I drove over 700 miles today and it felt like it.

I wanted to see Savannah during the daytime, but I had to keep going. I’m pretty sure I will pass through Savannah again in the future and I can check it more then.

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The outer banks and a lighthouse.

My efforts to sleep have been confined to the car the last couple of nights and will be for the remainder of my trip.  Luckily, early this morning the rain was pouring down very heavily and I was parked a few spots from a State Trooper, which made my mental state pretty well considering I was trying to sleep curled up under the steering wheel of a compact car.

The weather was gloomy, windy, and threatening to rain all day long, but I enjoyed today much more than I anticipated.

Home to the first flight

It was a slow drive to the outer banks because the highway speed limits are low and interrupted by towns every few miles. I made my way to the barrier islands with Kitty Hawk first on my list.

Since the Wright Brothers made their first flight at Kitty Hawk, I figured there would be some commemorative monument or museum, and I was right.

There is a large monument that almost seems out of place because of its size. The test flights are marked out on what is now a field, but used to be sand dunes during the Wright Brothers time.  More interestingly is the Wright Brothers’ museum.  It is filled with the actual parts from the original test planes. The museum also has many of the letters exchanged between the Wright Brothers and the mayor of Kitty Hawk, along with letters sent back to family in Ohio from the Brothers.

With this trip coming to an end, I stopped to think about all of the history that I have seen. It really is amazing.  I think I learned more about America and its history in the three months on this trip than I did collectively in many years of schooling.

I wish it would have been a sunny summer day in the outer banks.  Pictures are so much prettier when the skies are blue and the grass is green, but I’m so thankful for the opportunity to have visited the place, I found it very hard to spend much more than a second wishing for a better day.

Cape Hatteras

I am fully aware of all of the lighthouses in the area, so it was time I started checking things out.

I wouldn’t see them all, but I wanted to see two for sure:

The Bodie Lighthouse & Cape Hatteras

While at the gift shop back in Kitty Hawk, I decided to buy a refrigerator magnet. I have only bought a couple on this trip, but for some reason I felt the need to buy one in Kitty Hawk.  I think it might be the sense of the trip coming to an end.

I like the vertical stripes of the Cape Hatteras stripes more than the horizontal of the Bodie lighthouse, but I seemed gravitated to the magnet of Bodie, so I chose that one.  In hindsight, I’m glad I did because I met a remarkable gentle in the Bodie Lighthouse that will stay in my memory forever.

John Gaskill – 92 years old and still hanging out at the Bodie Lighthouse museum.  His father was the last caretaker of the lighthouse. He grew up by the sea and spent most of his adult years in the Navy at sea. He and I talked for a couple of hours and if not for me feeling pressed to keep moving, I would have stayed for a few more.

He told me stories on what it was like growing up in the outer banks many years before it was a tourist destination, for that matter, before there were even bridges to the islands.  His family lived on the mainland, but his father spent much of the time living in the lighthouse quarters on the island. During the summers, the kids would stay with the father on the island.  Going back and forth from the mainland to the islands was done with a rowboat.

As proud as he was with his attachment to the lighthouse, I think I was more interested in stories of day-to-day life of back when he was young.  He told me stories about drinking water before they had a well.  They would drink rain water out of buckets set near the gutters of the house. They used to tap the side of the buckets to shake the mosquito larva to the bottom so they could scoop clean water from the top.

site of the first Wright Brothers flight attempts

There were stories about getting teeth pulled. The island had one doctor and dentist didn’t pull teeth in those days.  There were no pain killers, John simply sat in a chair at the doctors house while the doctor latched onto the tooth and pulled with all his might.

He remembered fondly the days of being a kid and sneaking biscuits to dip in the sausage grease when his mother stepped away from the stove.

It’s amazing how bad the water they drank was and how unhealthy their eating practices were, but here he stood in front of me healthy, smart, and lively at the young age of 92.

It’s just more proof that our paranoid society blaming our obesity on unhealthy food when in all actuality, it probably has more to do with the quantity of our consumption, not our choices.

I enjoyed the couple of hours chatting with John and I would have liked to talk for a few more, but I had to keep moving.

I told John that I hope to be back within a year or two to talk some more and he responded with “you better hurry up, I’m 92 years old.”  We both laughed and I was on my way.

While walking to my car, a couple must have noticed my Florida license plates because they stopped me to find out where I live in Florida, I told them Tampa, which brought on a smile and surprise. It turned out they were from Seminole, which is just across the bridge near St. Petersburg.

I had this happen a few times on this trip. On a side road in a field of monster cacti in southern Arizona, I ran into a van full of guys from Orlando.  They were making a cross country trip to Seattle and back.

At Devil’s Tower, I met someone from just south of Tampa.

In Canada, I ran into a car from Pasco County, Fl., which is 20 minutes from where I live and near my mother.

The biggest coincidence was at a truck stop in Portland Oregon.

I had my USF (Univ. of South Florida) Bulls visor on and a guy kept staring at me as we were approaching each other.  I actually was a little worried. Once he was sure what  it was, he gave me the hand sign for the Bulls and yelled “Go Bulls.”  It turned out, he was a truck driver, but lives about two blocks from where I worked back in Tampa.  As big as this country is, it never ceases to amaze me how small it is too.  4,000 miles from home and I bumped into a virtual neighbor.

I digress….

I took a few snapshots of the Bodie Lighthouse and made my way down to Cape Hatteras.

I’m going to say that the Cape Hatteras lighthouse is the most famous North Carolina lighthouse based on how many times I have seen pictures of it in various places throughout my life.

It is the tallest lighthouse in America at around 200 feet. The stripes are diagonal and its light can be seen from 20 miles out at sea.

While the weather isn’t the best, it does present some nice “tourists-free” site seeing. I snapped some photos and made my way down to the beach for a different look.

The beaches were filled with people casting fishing lines. They are either some very serious enthusiast or very hungry because the wind was creating bone chilling ocean spray. There were fishing boast just off shore too. There must be some good fishing in this area judging by all of the participants.

I can honestly say “I know nothing about fishing.”  I enjoy a good whitefish, but don’t think I’ve been fishing in 20 years.  I have never been deep sea fishing, which seems to be something love to do back in Florida.

I took a few photos, made my way back to the mainland, just in time for a deluge of rain.  I was very fortunate that the rain didn’t begin until then because my entire beach day would have been rained out.

I drove to the suburbs of Charlotte, where I found a nice rest area to sleep for the night. Only a few more days and the trip would be coming to an end.

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Washington D.C….monuments and a sprint.

The weather is warming up again. Last night while sleeping in the hotel parking lot in Dover, I didn’t have to turn the heat on at all.  As a matter of fact, I rolled the windows down to cool off.

I longed for the cold winters after being in Florida for the last eight years without traveling north, but I think the last month of experiencing a northern November has cured me of that desire.  I’m ready for the mild Florida winters once again, but first I have a few more places to visit.

The Bay Bridge crossing Chesapeake Bay is definitely one that will scare people with bridge phobias. My mother came to mind the entire trip across it. I know she wouldn’t have approved of this route because of her distaste for old, large bridges.  I rather enjoyed it. The high winds and slight fear that it put into me when I visualized the worst possible scenario was enough to create a little uneasiness, but not enough to worry me.

Baltimore Raven's Stadium

The day began with a trip to the Baltimore Ravens stadium. I drove up to the stadium, put my hazard lights on, and jumped out to grab some quick pictures.  A security guard saw me and cranked up the horsepower on her golf cart to chase me down.  “You can’t park here” she told me with such authoritative control in her voice. I explained to her my trip and how I only needed a few minutes to grab a couple pictures of the stadium.  She lightened up and told me I could leave my car in its place for as much as 20 minutes if I needed to.  “Thanks,” I told her and began my walk around the stadium.

I walked by the ticket office, but wasn’t in the mood to give them my usual pitch about getting in the stadium for pictures. The financial strains this trip is starting to incur is wearing on my optimism. The trip as of late has become a balancing act between enjoying an opportunity of a lifetime and racing back to Tampa to start working.

I had completely circled the stadium and was at my car when it hit me, I may never be here again.  In that moment of realization, I turned around, negative attitude and all, headed back to the offices to give them a half-hearted pitch on “why they should let me in the stadium.” After all, I would knew I would feel better about trying and failing than not trying at all.

Much to my surprise, they were ok with my story.  Of course, they had to check with each other and debate on whether or not I was crazy, but they eventually let me in and showed me around.

There was an older gentleman that made the final approval for me to enter.  He didn’t seem to thrilled, but was polite.  As we walked through the back offices, he mentioned that I could explore the stadium under one condition. “What is that?” I asked him.  He told me I needed to wear a Ravens hat for the pictures.  I laughed and jokingly said he needed to give me one for that to happen, so that’s exactly what he did.  He not only gave me a hat, but gave me a Raven’s yearbook, a media guide, and some other miscellaneous information.  It was a nice gesture that had only been seen by one other team on this entire trip, the Tennessee Titans.

Capitol Hill

While downtown Baltimore, I saw a sign for Edgar Allen Poe’s house.  I would normally visit something like that, especially considering I’m fan of Poe’s work.  Since a young age, I have found his poems and stories intriguing. Even at an age when poetry was the last thing I wanted to be reading, he caught my attention.  Maybe it’s because his work was so much different than other literature we read in elementary school.

Unfortunately, I don’t have time to visit his place today because I need to get through Washington D.C. with the 7 hours of daylight I have left

Seeing the neoclassical designs of the monuments, museums, and governmental buildings in downtown Washington DC was amazing.  I’ve seen these buildings on TV all of my life, but as with everything, it’s different seeing it in person.  There is an aura that radiates from the power that these building hold. I would love to tour every building downtown D.C., but it obviously wouldn’t be happening on this day.

I drove down Constitution Ave. You can see the Capitol Building perched on top of a hill at the edge of the avenue. I had to park and get out and walk.  There was so much to see and messing around with traffic for an hour wasn’t going to be effective.

I must have parked about three blocks away from the Capitol.  I have gotten very used to walking around city centers on this trip and actually enjoy it much more than riding around in a car, so I welcomed the open parking meter and jumped out.

White House?

The Capitol lawn had a large group of singers performing in front of the construction crews preparing for the presidential inauguration. This group looked very familiar. It appeared to be the same group of Asian youths I saw in front of Independence Hall in Philadelphia yesterday.

A couple of them were standing on the sidewalk in front of the lawn, so I asked if they were in Philly yesterday.  Sure enough, it was them.  The only difference between this time and the day before in Philly was the persistent, unyielding attempts to save me on the Capitol’s lawn for all the tourist to see.

I kindly mentioned that my relationship with God is fine and personal. I don’t need to be saved at the moment, but thanked them anyways. They were relentless and I had to walk away.  I don’t think they were going about their mission in the best manner, but who am I to say?

I walked around the Capitol Building’s backside. It was a strange to see guards patrolling around the building with automatic weapons. This is the first time in my life that I have ever seen a public place patrolled by “non military uniformed” people with automatic weapons. I guess it’s a sign of the times, but it seemed to belong more in the Hollywood Scripts than my reality.

I checked out the Supreme Court building and the Library of Congress before making my way back to the front of the Capitol to start my trip towards the Washington Monument.

While making the walk from Capitol Hill to towards the Washington Monument, I mentally transcended the empty lawn that surrounded me by visualizing the mob packed lawn that awaits an inauguration on Jan. 20th.  It’s amazing to think how much has taken place in this very area in which I walked.

Would have been nicer on a clear, sunny day

I realized that the clock was ticking on, not only my daylight, but my parking meter too.  I walked two blocks off of course back to my car to pop more coins in the meter.

With daylight starting to tire, I kicked in my “Power Walking” pace.

This big guy was now walking at pace nearly out of control.  I should have had a shirt that read “Get out of the way, big man locomotion in progress.” People took notice, but didn’t seem to feel threatened, which was good. I arrived at the Washington Monument only to realize I could see the Lincoln Memorial too.  The Washington Monument must have marked the half-way point between the Capitol and Lincoln Memorial.  After admiring the monument and peering off at the White House, it was time to turn on the afterburners again.

I made it to the Lincoln Memorial, then quickly walked over to get a better view of Jefferson’s Memorial before back tracking through the Korean War Memorial and heading over to the White House. A lot of time was spent in the area of the Lincoln Memorial because there were so many other memorials near by.  The funny thing about Lincoln up on his chair is that it didn’t provoke any deep, philosophical feelings and thoughts like so many other sites had done before this one.  I couldn’t get the scene from “Planet of the Apes” out of my head. That movie may have ruined for me one of the coolest American Monuments ever made.

For those of you not familiar with Planet of the Apes, I won’t go into it too much, but lets just say that the movie has a scene with an ape on a chair instead of Lincoln.

Either way, I chuckled at how pathetically corrupted my mind has become because of that movie.

"...four score and seven years ago...."

By the time I made it to the White House Lawn, it was nearly dark. I saw the White House Christmas trees lit up and the lights from the White House.  I’m sure it would have made for better pictures if I would have been there on a sunny afternoon with bright blue skies, but it was an overcast day that quickly been swallowed by night.  It was still quite impressive viewing the White House.

I supposed I better get going since my meter was about to run out again.  I began my power walk from Pennsylvania Ave to Constitution Ave.

When I arrived at Constitution Avenue with my sore legs and perspiring skin, I noticed something different.  Sure, it was dark, but it was something else.

The street that had been lined bumper to bumper with parked cars on both sides of it was now moving full speed. The parking lanes were now driving lanes and tow truck lights bounced off of the buildings as they dragged rebellious cars away.

I stood in perplexity on the street corner trying to piece everything together.  What had I done, did I miss something that warned of cars being towed?  YES, it began to come back.  There was a small sign on the meter that mentioned no parking between 4:30 and 6:00.  I don’t even remember thinking about it when I paid the meter and I sure didn’t think about it while I was staring at the Smithsonian, but I am recalling reading the red lettered warning now.

The sprint down Constitution Avenue during rush hour has begun.

As if filming a drama set in D.C., I was running at full speed from one corner to the next. The only thing missing was a trench coat and a brief case. I was running full speed against rush hour traffic in an attempt to catch my car before it was dragged away by the tow truck armada.

Each block seemed to bring a stop-light for me. It was nice to stop running without guilt, but it didn’t slow down my racing heart. After about six block, I still saw no cars on the side of the street.  My car appeared to be gone.  Completely dejected and feeling hopeless, I asked a patrolling security guard how to get my car back.  He gave me a 311 number to call. While walking and waiting for the automated garbage that graces the end of every phone call these days, I saw a white car off in the distance.  My car was still there!!   I hung up the phone and began the spring again.

After sprinting slightly more than 1.5 miles, only interrupted by the occasional mistimed red light, I arrived at my car.  Sure, I may have had burning lungs, sweat-drenched clothing, and a heart that seemed to be pounding its way out from the inside with a jackhammer, but I beat the tow truck.

Unfortunately, I still received a $100 ticket, but I had to be somewhat thankful that I still had a car to drive.  I never thought in a million years I’d be happy for $100 parking ticket, but at this time and place, I was.

Later that night, the reality of receiving a $100 ticket in my financial despair hit me.  It was a little depressing, but I kept reminding myself of how fortunate I was to get to my car before the tow truck.  After all, the ticket said to tow it.

I camped out in my car again, this time in North Carolina. Tomorrow, I will visit the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

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The city of Brotherly Love and a live interview.

Known as the “City of Brotherly Love,” Philadelphia is another one of those historical east coast cities that had heavy involvement of the development of America. I couldn’t wait to see the history that fills the downtown district. I also had my first “live” interview.  What could possibly go wrong?

I made my way into downtown Philly after a pit stop to fax the necessary paperwork to renew the rental car for another week.  With each moment of spending money, I hurt more.  I had a budget, but have since gone way, way over.

"Philly, here I come.."

I was contacted by the local NBC station the prior night to do an interview today.  The person asked if I had a preference of being in the studio or on the street.  I responded with an ignorant “whatever is best for you.”  I wish I had only known then, what I know now.

The interview was scheduled for just before 5:00, which means I had most of the daylight hours to check out downtown Philly.

First on my list was the Liberty Bell. I headed downtown (thanks Lola-the GPS) and drove up and down the city streets until I found an open parking meter.  Much like EVERY city visited so far, with the exception of New York, I found a spot to park on the street.  All those years of filling an empty tennis ball container full of silver change really came in handy on this trip.

I popped some coins into the meter and quickly walked to the visitor center, which had a lawn full of late teens and early 20-somethings performing religious songs.

I figured the visitor center would be a great place to start my downtown adventure.

Much to my expectation, they had a map for me so that I could see where everything was located.  There were people dressed as Ben Franklin and other patriots in the building as well.  It’s neat to see people dressed up in 1700’s garb, but I’m always fearful of whether they are going to try to hit me up for a tip.

The Liberty Bell was across the street.  I had no idea that I was going to be frisked to view the bell, but I was.  I guess security is an issue at any landmark in this country nowadays.

Liberty Bell

After taking my picture with the bell, I made my way across another street to Independence Hall.

I tried to walk into Independence Hall, but a guard yelled at me.  I wasn’t aware that a person needs a ticket to get into the hall, after all it’s free.  He proceeded to tell me that I needed a ticket and had to go back to the visitors center to get one.  “OK,” I made my way back two blocks to get a free ticket.  In hindsight, I wish I wouldn’t have bothered because the ticket into the hall wasn’t valid for a couple of hours and I didn’t have time to sit around and wait.

Either way, I did get an extra four blocks of walking as a result.

While walking around the downtown district, I also stumbled across Washington Square, where an eternal flame burns on the “Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.”

Supposedly, there is a mass grave underneath the square that holds many of the soldiers from Washington’s army.

It’s monuments like these that make historical events more tangible.  When you stand in these spots and think about the people that are (were) here, it puts a whole new perspective on history.

Standing in front of Independence Hall (where The First Continental Congress meeting took place) is more thought provoking than any history lesson I’ve sat through in my life. It does bring the reality back into history.

thousands of soldiers from Washington's Army buried here

I also visited the First Bank of America, which was located about six blocks away from Independence Hall.

Hamilton suggested the bank be built because of the huge Revolutionary War debt. Many states were bankrupt and had their own currency. Hamilton suggested standardizing the currency and building a central bank in the Nation’s capital: Philadelphia.

Check out this page with some facts about the First (and oldest) American Bank.

I walked around for awhile admiring our country’s history, but I had a few other things I wanted to see before my 5:00 interview.

I made a wrong turn while searching for the infamous “Rocky” steps in front of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The wrong turn forced me onto the Ben Franklin Bridge, which would have been fine except for the $4.00 toll to get back into Philly.

$4.00 for a wrong turn? Ooops.

I reluctantly made my way over the bridge to New Jersey before immediately turning around to pay the $4.00 toll and head back into Philadelphia.

I wonder how many tourists get stuck in that same situation. I imagine it’s a lot of extra revenue for bridge.

I found the Museum of art and I must say, those steps didn’t look that tough. I’m not sure what all the theatrics were about with Rocky, but it wasn’t nearly as mountainous as portrayed in the movie.

What would a visit to Philly be without Rocky?

Once proudly displayed in front of the Spectrum, the Rocky statue now seems to have been relegated to scarecrow.  He stands idle off to the side of the steps, in the grass, behind some trees.  Fort that matter, I didn’t even see him the first two times I drove by it. When I say “drive by it,” that’s because there is an eternal loop of 3-5 lanes circling around a parking lot out front of the museum.  If I had time to go into the museum, I would have happily paid the $8 parking fee, but I was running out of time and didn’t want to pay $8 to park for 20 minutes so I didn’t maximize my visit to the museum, I simply left after driving around the circle for awhile.

I was told to meet at a Wendy’s across the street from St. Joseph’s University.  I found the location with no problem, the remote truck and camera guy took video of me, and uploaded it to the station.

While I mentioned before that I had no preference of being in the studio or out on the street, I learned quickly that I made that decision based on pure ignorance.

I had done a few interviews before this, but the only “live” interviews were done for a radio station through the phone.  The phone was fine for questions, unlike standing in the street next to rush hour traffic.

The little earpieces they give guests are worthless.  They are distorted, muffled, etc. I now have a complete understanding on why so many people interviewed with those things are always asking the host to repeat themselves or staring off into an oblivious space of concentration.

The cameraman of over 20 years felt my pain. He gave me the earpiece early to try and get used to the awkward sounds emitting through it, but it didn’t seem to help.

Here I stood, across from St. Josephs University with a light bright enough to illuminate a city block aimed at my face. I stood on the side of a six lanes of traffic during rush hour.  There were trucks, horns, you name it, I heard it all….just not the news anchor.

The cameraman tried to help by playing charades, but to no avail.  Evidently, you actually do get used to those worthless earpieces, but it must take quite awhile because it wasn’t happening any time soon for me.

I longed for the option of sitting in the studio again where I could actually understand the voices asking me questions.

I must have asked the anchor to repeat herself a half dozen times before the last straw had been drawn.

She asked me a question in which I had NO clue what she said. I was tired of asking her to repeat herself and the cameraman was too. He was gesturing with his hands in a manner that looked as if he was writing.

Ohhhhh, she is asking the patented question I always received in interviews “Are you writing about this and where can we read about the trip?”  I gladly obliged with a 2 minute answer to the question. The only problem with how I answered was that I couldn’t have been more wrong about what the question was.

She supposedly asked “how are you paying for this trip and how much is it costing you?”  Hmmm, not quite the same question, is it?  Well, immediately following my answer they decided that 5 minutes of torture was enough for their audience and they let me go. In all fairness, they did actually fill up the last 7 minutes of the hour as scheduled with me, so it probably wasn’t QUITE as bad I think, nevertheless it could have went much better.

The cameraman told me afterward that she had asked about “paying for the trip” and I joked with the guy telling him that I would have asked her audience to help out since I am officially broke, he mentioned I would have had people at the truck ready to help by the time we left the parking lot. He claims that it wasn’t an exaggeration, but I’ll never know.

If I ever do another live interview, I can assure you that it won’t be during rush hour on the streets of America’s 4th largest metropolitan area.

I drove for a few hours before stopping in Dover, DE.  Gas in Delaware was down to $1.55, a new low.

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...Irish cooking, suspect weather, and the Big Apple

I arrived in Middletown, N.Y. late at night. I stayed with  JoEllen, Tony, and their two beagles;  they are the sister and brother in-law of Allison, who is the person (along with her husband and longtime friend Jim) I lived with in Tampa before starting this trip.

I have met JoEllen and Tony before and we always got along rather well so I was thrilled to hear that I was welcome to stay with them as long as needed.

Tony, JoEllen, Wally, and Buster

I only planned on staying a few days because I was so pressed for time, but between their hospitality and the threatening snow, it ended up being a week.

My original plan was to eat Wendy’s ONLY for the entire trip, but those of you who have been following this trip are well aware of the changes I have made.  While staying at a person’s home, I decided to eat if they wanted to cook.  I got tired of trying to explain to people what I was doing and I figured it would be good for the host and myself.  The people I was staying with were able to feel like good host and I got great cooked meals in exchange.  How could I argue with that?  Besides, I didn’t stay with people very often.  I usually slept in my car or a hotel.  I didn’t get many chances to eat anything other than Wendy’s on this trip so it was a nice change from what had become my very routine meal.  I have eaten Wendy’s in every state and haven’t eaten anything else with the exception of when I was with family or friends.

Tony is from Ireland and it is always interesting to get the viewpoint of an immigrant.  He moved to America in his mid 20’s and met JoEllen while they were both in the Coast Guard.

Tony and I stayed up late almost every night talking about anything and everything you can imagine, but most of it centered around philosophical issues, such as; religion, politics, and life in general.

Having been born and raised in Ireland with a father in the British Army, he is very familiar with the Western way of life.  He wasn’t a poor immigrant seeking America to escape political or religious persecution, nor was he trying to escape a war torn country or a dictator’s oppression.

He fell in love with America while visiting friends and family that had moved to the states years before him.

While I can sense his homesickness for “The Old Side” (as he called it,) he left no questions as to his viewpoints about the U.S.  He told me often “It’s the best country in the world!” I heard him speak higher of our country than most natives and definitely spoke higher of this country than the many who have escaped persecution.  Shouldn’t the ones who left a terrible life behind to find freedom be more appreciative of America than a person from the very western lifestyle of Ireland?  This amazed me every time it came up.  He could speak for hours about everything “wonderful” about this country and never once said anything derogatory. The worst thing he could muster up about America was “..sure it’s not perfect, but it’s the best damned country in the world…” Sometimes, he left me so inspired I wanted to run out the back door into the frosty night air waving Old Glory while singing “God Bless America..”

Rockefeller Center

Aside from the deeply philosophical conversations we had, he and JoEllen greeted me with great cooking.  I was able to eat homemade Shepherds Pie cooked by an authentic Irishman.  It was delicious.  One might think that the prior four weeks of Wendy’s without a break of any kind, left me delirious, but trust me…this was good stuff.

There is nothing better than the smell of fresh vegetables cooking and the sound of potatoes being peeled. Listening to Tony and JoEllen prep the food was as harmonious to my ears as the Boston Pops.

On day three, the weather seemed fair and it we decided it was good day to head into “the city.”

Middletown is about 45 minutes north of the city and we had a couple of options in front of us, we could take the train, the bus, or drive into town.  I have driven in every major metropolitan area so far, yet I still had a little fear of Manhattan.

Ok, I’m driving…

On the way into New York City, you could see the occasional parking lot full of hundreds of cars. These were the locations where bus and train riders would dump there car off for the work day.  The concept of this is foreign to me. It must be the only place in America where tens of thousands of cars make their way every morning to a meeting point just short of their destination, only to be abandoned in favor of the bus or train.. You would think that there wouldn’t be much traffic in Manhattan since all of the traffic is parked on the sides of the highways leading into it, but you would be completely wrong if you were to think this.

Where the Twin Towers used to stand

Luckily, we missed morning rush hour, but it sure didn’t feel like it while we had four lanes of traffic bottlenecking itself in an attempt to thread the Lincoln Tunnel.  Oh yes, the Lincoln Tunnel. I have been to New York a couple of times before, but I wasn’t so fortunate to be sitting behind the steering wheel while ravaging my way through a staggered wall of cars with my horn in an attempt to submerge myself into this underwater tube. What a nightmare!  Tony just kept saying “Oh, this is flowing pretty well today”  If you can imagine hearing the pleasantries of the soothing Irish accent talk about how well things are going while my knuckles are white, with the exception of the middle finger, which seems to have adapted to the New York culture faster than the rest of me, then you can clearly see what was going on that morning.

After the 1/4 mile 20 minute bottlenecking into the entry was finished, we made our way through  1.5 miles of one of the busiest underwater tubes in the world.  It isn’t all that bad once you squeeze your car into line, it’s the getting into line that is the real pain.

We entered from New Jersey and exited in NYC.  Driving around the city wasn’t all that bad, but I guess it helped having someone guide me through it.  Tony worked in Manhattan for years and knows these streets much better than Lola (my GPS) does.

While the driving itself isn’t so bad, the parking is a nightmare. Finding a parking spot in the street is less likely than winning the lottery.

Many of the “parking lots” consisted of large metal frames. You drop your car off and they drive it for you up to a open metal framed disaster which consists of an elevator device to raise your car upwards.  It must take some getting used to because I can’t imagine dropping my car off in a lot and later seeing it four stories up in the air. This makeshift parking platform resembled a trailer used to haul new cars.  The only difference is that this is square, taller, and uses an elevator to raise your car up to the top.

Bird's eye view from the top of Empire State Building

We opted for a more traditional parking garage.  The kind where you drive 20 feet below ground, drop off your car, and let the worker manipulate your four door vehicle into a spot fit for a moped. Yeah, space is that hard to come by in this city.

We dropped the car off and walked up to the streets of New York City.  Ahhh yes, finally I was on foot and in the city. Now, it’s time to check out the sites.

We passed the legendary Radio City Music Hall on our way to Rockefeller Center to visit the infamous Christmas Tree and ice skating rink, oh yeah…. NBC is there too

After taking a few pictures and people watching, Tony and I headed to the Empire State Building.  The view from the top is a must see for anyone who visits New York City.

On an overcast day, the view wasn’t as spectacular as it could have been, but it was still worth seeing. On a clear day, it is said that you can see five states; New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, and Massachusetts.  This kind of view wasn’t going to happen on this day.

It’s amazing how much noise exists while walking the streets of New York City. If you just stop for a few seconds, close your eyes and listen, you will hear many languages being spoken amongst the laughter and conversation, the beeping of commercial trucks backing up, construction, and of course the army of taxis honking their horns.  On the 86th floor observation deck, all of these sounds are converge together to form a buzz echoing upwards.  It was on this outdoor deck that I absorbed the humming of the city mixed with the slight breeze blowing in my ears while looking off in the distance with a bird’s eye view of lower Manhattan.  It is lower Manhattan where the World Trade Center Towers used to stand.

Times Square

While I never saw the towers in person, I am still accustomed to the mental visualization of the towers being there.  Almost 30 years of seeing the skyline on every media outlet you can imagine has left the image of the towered skyline engrained in my head forever.  It is here and now, at the top of the Empire State building that I look to Lower Manhattan and see a skyline that feels a bit ominous. I’m not sure if this feeling is a result of the gray clouds blanketing the city or if it’s from the memories of watching two of the mightiest guardians crumble beneath a sucker punch of evil on a Tuesday morning while getting ready to drive across town to my 9:30 class.  Either way, seven years later, it still doesn’t look right.

After leaving the Empire State building, we made our way to the Neon Nerve Center of the world, Times Square. While standing here, one can’t help but look around and think of how New York City has been the Media Mecca for generations.  The up to the minute news crawler illuminates loudly over the heads of the hypnotized billboard gazers and lounging lunch eaters while the natives seem oblivious to the visual marvels as they walk with determination and blinders to their next destination. It is very easy to differentiate between the tourist and the indigenous here. The tourist are mesmerized and the natives are desensitized.

With the threat of perpetual traffic congestion trying to squeeze their way out of the city during the looming rush hour, we decided to call it a day. I had to stop at Giants Stadium (number 23 out of 31 NFL Stadiums) on the way home and the day was complete.

Tony and I spent most of the daylight hours in Manhattan and barely scratched the surface.  As I have said in prior blogs, some cities need days to explore.  I have a feeling New York needs weeks, if not months to explore it.

[View with PicLens]

…..American History comes to life

I made it to Boston last night, but found myself near the heart of the city faster than I expected, which isn’t where I wanted to be late at night.  I will be sleeping in my car for most of the remainder of the trip and I don’t like sleeping near city neighborhoods I’m not familiar with, so I backtracked about 20 miles to a rest stop to sleep for the night.

I awoke at sunrise and headed downtown Boston. I figured sightseeing would use all of the daylight hours and I was right.

Boston skyline from the Bunker Hill monument

My first stop was Fenway Park. It is one of the most historical pro baseball stadiums in the country and the Chowderhead Mecca. For those of you who don’t know what a chowder is, it’s a commonly used nickname for Boston sports fans.

Next, I headed over to the Bunker Hill Monument. It rises almost 300 steps to a peak of over 200 feet into the sky.  It stands far above everything in the Charlestown area of Boston. The steps are quite tiring and they spiral smaller and smaller as you near the top.  It makes for a tight passing between the people coming down and the people going up.  My legs were burning and it was the best leg workout I have had since the mountains out west.  The view of downtown Boston was beautiful and worth the struggle to the top.

I then headed down to the USS Constitution (Old Ironsides) to see the oldest commissioned warship in the world. It is over 200 years old and part of the original Naval order by George Washington.  It’s pretty neat walking through a ship that has seen so much history. The following link opens up in another window and talks a lot about the history of the ship.

(http://www.ussconstitution.navy.mil/historyupdate.htm)

Today, the ship sits next to Paul Revere’s landing spot after he eluded the watch of British ships while crossing the Charles River into Charlestown, where he began his famous midnight run.

Not a lot of attention is brought to the landing spot and it is by pure chance that I found the small plaque commemorating the landing spot. I wasn’t looking for it, I happened to catch it as I rounded a building while heading to view the USS Constitution.

USS Constitution

I left the harbor that claimed Old Ironsides, along with the Canadian Coast Guard, and began my drive into the downtown district.

I passed markets filled with activity. Quincy Market seemed to be the big one. The entire street was lined with vendors and shoppers looking for good deals on just about any kind of food you could want.

After making a few wrong turns, thanks to the useless GPS system in my car, I managed to find a spot to park.  Like most downtowns, it was a parallel parking spot with a meter to countdown the minutes.  I popped a handfule of coins into the meter and started my high-speed walk through downtown.

According to my GPS, I was within a few blocks of the Boston Massacre Site. I stumbled onto a corner with a very old, historical looking building on it.  There were tour guides dressed as colonist telling stories to large groups of people. I tried listening in, but grew quickly tired of the guides “jokes.”

One thing that all tour guides seem to have in common is the innate ability to tell bad jokes.  I suppose it’s part of the entertainment, but it seems as if the only reactions they get for their jokes is the “hardy-har-har” laughter.  While they keep the mood light spirited, and that’s to be appreciated, I find it a little annoying when I’m trying to eavesdrop.

Shortly after my arrival, the flock of tourist was led down the street, which left me all alone to figure out where the Boston Massacre happened.

Site of the Boston Massacre

I walked down an alley and back and forth across the street before I decided to head towards the Visitor Center located nearby. I told the lady I was looking for the Boston Massacre location and she chuckled.  She said it’s hard to see, its only marker is a spot in the middle of the road just outside the building. WHAT, one of the most famous events in American History is marked only by a small cobblestone circle in the middle of the road? Yes, this indeed was the case.  I think my biggest complaint about Boston would have to be the “lack of signs commemorating” these MAJOR events that helped inspire and win a revolution that changed the course of human history. The Boston Massacre was an event that fueled animosity between the colonists and British to levels so high that it would only be resolved with a war for independence six years later. I found it to be incredible that I would have to ask a “historian” where this took place, especially since I stood 20ft from the actual location.

The woman at the visitor center also explained to me the history of the “old” building that stood across the alley and directly in front of the Massacre spot.

It was the Old Statehouse. The statehouse had as much historical memories as anything in this country. It was built in the early 1700’s, and it is on the Old Statehouse’s balcony that the Royal Governor pleaded to the rioting colonists to calm down after the British troops open fired on them in 1770.

The Old Statehouse balcony is also home to the very first public reading of the newly written Declaration of Independence in July of 1776.  I could only imagine what it must have been like standing amongst the cheering crowds as the Declaration was read.  They had no idea how much they were changing the future of the entire world.

I stood in thought looking up at the Old Statehouse Balcony until the sounds of horns and revving engines snapped me out of my deep daze.

I quickly jaunted down the street to look for other historical landmarks.  I saw a few statues along the way, but what caught my attention the most were the sounds of drums and clapping crowds.

I let my ears guide me a few blocks to the spot of a small crowd. It was here, in the shadows of Fanueil Hall and a Samuel Adams statue, that I listened to a guy playing buckets and pans as if they were the most finely tuned drums ever.  I have heard street performers in the past, but this was more impressive than anything I have heard before. He played at a lightning’s pace without a break for the 10 minutes I walked up to the spot and continued for at least another 30 minutes until I was gone.  I wasn’t alone in my amazement, many others had stopped to listen as well.  He never missed a beat and it was some of the best entertainment I have heard in awhile.

I later drove around a very packed Boston Commons (which is a scaled down version of New York City’s Central Park) and began my search for the infamous statue of Paul Revere on his horse.  It wasn’t on any of the tourist maps, nor was it in my GPS. This famous statue that gets airtime whenever the New England Patriots play on Monday Night Football was nowhere to be found.  I had to find it and the sun was setting fast.  I decided to call the Park Service and ask about its location.  They directed me to the neighborhood and mentioned how easy it is to miss, they weren’t kidding.

I drove right by it twice without noticing.  It is between a couple of buildings and shielded from the road by the trees. Thankfully, I was aware that it was near the North Church (the infamous.. one if by land, two if by sea location.)

Now, the trick is to find a parking place.

I drove up and down the narrow streets looking for an open parking place, but it was getting tougher and tougher due to the swarms of people beginning to fill the restaurants of the Little Italy section of Boston’s North End. The smell of Italian filled the air and my hunger and frustration began to overwhelm me.

I ended up parking over a half mile away. It wasn’t a straight shot, it was down a few blocks, right a few more blocks, and then left again.  As I parked, I noticed stares from a local carrying things from her car towards the building I parked in front of.  I asked her is there was an issue with me parking there and she said it was by permit only.  I thought to myself how I didn’t have time for this, it’s getting dark and I want to see the statue and North Church.  She warned of the ticket happy police pacing the street, but we decided that I would be ok if I put my hazzards on and hurried.

downtown Boston

I understand that a little over a mile (roundtrip) isn’t far to walk, but it still takes a good 15-20 minutes and I needed to do a little viewing before returning as well. With that in mind, I ran!

I think I scared a couple of restaurant patrons as I ran towards them as they stood in line waiting to get inside, but it had to be done, I was running out of daylight and I didn’t want a ticket.

I arrived at the statue as a group of tourist finished listening to the history of the church and statue. I walked around as quickly as possible before running back to the car, narrowly beating the ticket police, but losing to the setting sun.

I had managed to spend from sunup until a couple hours after sundown walking the streets of Boston and I still feel like I missed a lot.

Luckily, the stadium was lit up for pictures and viewing, but there would be no getting inside because of how late it was.

I will return to Boston someday. It is truly one of my favorite cities so far. I still find myself missing the natural beauty and hiking of out west, but Boston is definitely worth visiting…especially if you’re interested in the Revolutionary Period of American History.

I’m sure Rhode Island and Connecticut have a lot to see, but I’m out of time and money, so I need to hurry through them to before arriving at my next stop, Middletown, N.Y.

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.Black Friday in Acadia National Park

I slept for approximately three hours this morning.  I didn’t want to sleep too long because I have a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time since money has quickly become an issue.

As I made my way over to Acadia National Park, I listened to the news on the radio.  It never fails, the Black Friday Mayhem gets worse and worse every year.

seaside town

I’m not sure what it is about having 8 items on sale in a store the size of a stadium parking lot that makes people stand in line at 4am, but they do it every year.  Do me a favor, if you arrive at the store and there is a line 500 people deep, don’t bother adding yourself to the end in hopes of getting the couple items on sale.  Go back later in the day and pay an extra 20%.  Is it really worth $30 to stand outside for hours in the cold?  For that matter, is it worth $30 to stand in line with the possibility of getting in an argument, a fight, or worse yet, trampled to death?

Yes, trampled to death!!!  I heard today that an employee at Wal-Mart was trampled to death by the “Morning Marauders”  Is this what civilization come to? Trampling people to death in hopes of getting a Tickle Me Elmo? If this is civilized behavior, then give me a deserted island.

Acadia National Park was beautiful, but lacked the prize that I had hoped for: seals.  In a lot of pictures of the park, there are these lovable animals basking in the sunlight while stretched out on the rocky shoreline of Maine’s coastal islands.  I’m sure it has a lot to do with the time of year, but I still wanted to see seals!

Maybe the next time I visit Maine, I will pick a more appropriate time of year.  Until then, I will have to search for a lighthouse to satisfy my desires to see something new.

I found the only the lighthouse located on Mt. Desert Island -which houses Acadia National Park & Bar Harbor-.

Maine lighthouse

The lighthouse wasn’t exactly what I had envisioned.  I had always pictured all lighthouses to be tall, but it was rather short. It turns out there are different types of lighthouses. The tall ones are for deep-sea vessels and the shorter ones -like this one in Maine- are harbor lights. I had no idea.

I tried to get a good picture of the Bass Harbor lighthouse, but its location on a rocky cliff made it difficult. The trail leading down to the front wasn’t even near a satisfying view for me. I would have liked to have a boat to get offshore, but this wasn’t going to be happening.  Instead, I took a hiking trail through some woods that led to the steps, which took me down to the rocks on the backside of the lighthouse.  I still didn’t have the view I wanted!  I decided to climb down the rocks.  I debated on whether or not I should be doing this because the rocks were slippery from spray that the waves smashing against the rocks below created.  I also realized that if I slipped while jumping from one rock to the next, I’d probably hurt myself pretty badly while tumbling down to the rocks below and there wasn’t anybody near here this time of year. Nevertheless, I went for it. I ended up getting a better view of the lighthouse, but really needed to be offshore to get the view I was wanted.

Another thing Maine is for is its lobster. I hear about it all the time and I can see by the number of lobster crates being loaded onto trailers, this is serious business. The inlets and harbors were littered with small, unattended boats anchored and waiting with traps

There were small towns on the island that housed Acadia N.P., and the towns resembled every seaside town that we’ve seen in the movies.  It’s funny how I’ve seen the movies & T.V come to life on this trip.  Before this trip,  I had started to believe that many things weren’t really as they were depicted in films, but rather as the public wanted them to be.  I had believed these type of places ( like the seaside towns in Maine) no longer existed, but they still lived in Hollywood because it makes for a more cinematic scene.  Truth is, these places still exist, just like Hollywood portrays them.

Lobster crates were plentiful

There were small towns on the island that housed Acadia N.P., and the towns resembled every seaside town from movies.  It’s funny how I’ve seen the movies & T.V come to life on this trip.  Before this trip,  I had started to believe that things weren’t really as they were depicted in films, but rather as the public wanted them to be.  I had believed these type of places ( like the seaside towns in Maine) no longer existed, but they still lived in Hollywood because it makes for a more cinematic scene.  Truth is, these places still exist, just like Hollywood portrays them.

From the old seaport architecture to the bearded men in flannels loading up lobster crates onto the boats, Maine is exactly what I had believed it would be.  It had islands filled with evergreens and rocky shorelines. The old bridges test time as they close the gap between separated lands and the sounds of boats trolling the water fill the air as the small coastal communities appear to be straight out of a Hollywood movie.

I didn’t do anything spectacular (or too out of the ordinary) in this state, other than spend Thanksgiving alone. Much like many things on this trip, Thanksgiving alone was a first for me.

All in all…. I felt so relaxed in the tranquility of the cool sea-air and the sounds of the waves.  I felt as if I could sit on the rocks and stare off into the sea for hours, if not days. There is a lot to be said for the power of the sea over us. Whether on water or sitting on the shore, the ocean really does have an overwhelming persuasion over our emotions. It just goes to show how  intertwined we are with the forces of nature.

While contemplating where I would rather live (city or country) I find myself torn in my desires.. do I really prefer the convenience and liveliness of a city-center or the inspirational views and serenity of nature.

The real answer to that is as simple as the question.  All things in moderation.  A little of everything and not too much of anything.

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..Thanksgiving in Maine, Denny’s style….

I left New Hampshire around 9am.  It was too late to watch the sunrise, but perfect timing to watch a blanket of overcast clouds split into two, allowing the sun to spray its concentrated ray of light through them and onto the mountains. The intermittent trails of snow streaming from the mountain peak to the ground reflected the sun’s light back up into the air creating a fog of light.  It was a great way to begin my morning.

Nice morning view

My first stop was in Concord.  One thing that is already noticeably different about this part of the country as compared to others is the history.  I’ve always been aware of the New England states historical significance, but it brings it more to life when I see the dates on some of these buildings.  Concord it the capital and is home to the oldest statehouse where a legislature still meets in the original chambers. Since 1819, the state legislatures have been meeting in the same quarters.

Concord has churches and buildings that made me feel as if I was in the middle of a documentary about 1800’s New England’.  The towns had a small feel and I could only imagine how beautiful this area must be when the trees are alive, or better yet, changing colors.  Unfortunately, the trees are leafless during late November.

The most striking natural feature to me is the amount of rivers.

Around every turn in New Hampshire seems to be a river.  I’m not sure if I coincidentally picked a path that weaves in and out of rivers, but I never seem to be more than 15 minutes away from one.

The sound of the echoing streams running over the rocks is music to my ears.  I thoroughly enjoy the relaxing sounds that nature’s arteries provide.

I made my way through the “Granite State” and slowed to a stop in Maine. It’s getting dark, I haven’t eaten anywhere today, and it’s Thanksgiving.  It goes without saying that Wendy’s is closed on Thanksgiving and I have maintained my “only eating at Wendy’s” while on the road. Today is the exception.

I’ve talked to family and friends all day today and the topic of conversation is Thanksgiving food.  Ohhhh, I could go for some stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy.

New Hampshire history

I managed to find one place open in Ellsworth Maine, it was a Denny’s.  An added bonus to this place being open is that they have wireless internet access. It’s getting cold out tonight and I don’t have money to stay in hotels anymore, so I will camp out in the warmth of Denny’s for the evening.  I went inside about 6pm and ate a Denny’s style Thanksgiving Dinner.  I have no complaints about the food and I’m sure this was obvious by the way that I “inhaled” the food.  I’m sure this meal didn’t compare to what my family and friends were having and I wasn’t allowed to have seconds, but it was delish!

I then asked for a cup of coffee and worked online until 5am.  I spent almost 12 hours sitting in Denny’s. Employees told me that I had broken the record for sitting in their Denny’s (at least for non-employees.)

The Black Friday rush beginning to fill the streets and it was time for me to find a place to sleep.  I pulled behind a hotel for about 3 hours.

I was positive that I would be back home in time for Thanksgiving (even after a few weeks in Hawaii and Alaska,) but I’m still a couple of weeks from finishing the continental U.S.

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..Quebec City, Je t’aime…..

I was snowed in last night, but ready to explore today.  I made my way to the epicenter of all that is French in Canada; Quebec City.

I have heard that downtown is the closest thing to Old Europe in North America. We shall see.

I made my way the suburbs that typically surround all modern cities and slowly made my way downtown. The streets became narrower and mixed in with the occasional cobblestone. The buildings followed suit by changing form as well.

With English seeming to be deceased (or never born)  in “Ville de Québec,” I started getting the Euro-feel. It’s not as if I have ever been to Europe, but this is how I would imagine it based on TV….besides, I recently met a few Germans working for a few weeks in Canada and they mentioned that it’s about as close as you can get to Europe without actually going to Europe.

Quebec

The Château Frontenac dominates the landscape.  It gives the feeling of a protective castle overlooking the town.  It isn’t a castle, but it is so high and so large that it cast its shadow over the old-style homes and buildings nearby.

As I climbed the steps to reach the fortress, the winds of the frigid St. Lawrence River did everything they could to make me run back to the car and turn on the heater.  The river unleashed the coldest winds I have felt on this trip yet. I was not deterred.  I have two ears, two nostrils, and I feared nothing. The hood went on and the jacket buttoned up. I think I might have been the only one walking backwards, but I consider it being innovative rather than ridiculous.

I made it to the top of the fortress walls. Amazingly enough, I was the only fool to climb these steps in the frosted wind.  It was a spectacular view, but probably not worth losing feeling in my left ear.  I also forgot to grab tissues out of the car before making this walk. We all know what happens when cold air pounds our open face for a couple of hours.  Let’s just say; a tissue (or two) is very appreciated.

I made my way back down a couple hundred of steps, back amongst the rest of the tourist.  I haven’t been able to figure out why there were so many tourist not adventuring to the top.  Sure it was cold, but weren’t they curious too?  I will never know.

There are cannons and statues commemorating people (and events) placed frequently throughout the entire area that makes up Vieux-Quebec (old city).

I had to make a quick walk back to the car to quench the parking meter’s thirst, but then I decided to walk down some of the oldest streets in North America.  The sidewalks were getting icy which made some of the steep walk-ways and streets quite an adventure.

Chateau Frontenac

While heading down one of the streets, I noticed a street that had been converted to a walking only area.  There were old European style shops on both sides of the brick street and there were people climbing up and down ladders, hanging Christmas lights up any place they could find a spot to do so. It looked more like a scene out of an old Christmas movie from the 60’s rather than a typical modern day, car congested, metro area in North America.

The Plains of Abraham, which sits next to the old city, is home to a very pivotal battle during the French and Indian War. There is a lot of history in this city, rightfully so since it was established in 1608, and it tries to preserve as much of its heritage and culture as possible.

I was parked near Notre-Dame Quebec Basilica. I didn’t take a picture or go inside because, while I had thought this church was interesting, I figured that it was “just another old church.”  I was wrong.  It turned out to be the oldest parish in North America, and while the church itself has been rebuilt a couple of times due to fires, it still remains on the exact same spot that it was built on back in 1648.  The inside is supposedly astonishing. When I return back to Quebec, I will definitely tour the church.

Darkness has fallen and I felt sad to be forced to leave. There are so many more things to see and do in Quebec and I hope to return someday to enjoy them, preferably in the summer or fall when the air is warmer and the festivities are plentiful.

I headed out of town, but not without making one more stop: Wal-mart.

I needed something, which now escapes my memory, and I knew Wal-mart would have it.  What I didn’t plan on was the amount of enjoyment that was about to take place.  Everything was written in French and I couldn’t communicate with anyone.  I walked around the store for over an hour just listening to conversations that made no sense to me.  I enjoyed the sounds and the sites of a foreign land, which made no

tis the season

sense because I had not a CLUE what people were saying. When I checked out, the girl talked to me in French, which I then told her I don’t understand French, she smiled and tried her best to say a few words in English and I reciprocated by responding with butchered French. We smiled and that was the end of my Quebec experience.

Before starting this trip, I had always given thought to moving to another country where I wouldn’t know the language or culture. I was always apprehensive to do so out of fear of whether or not I would actually like such a dramatic change.

While it was only a couple of days of being in a “foreign setting,”  I now know that I would love to experience cultural immersion for a year or two.  I love America, but I’d love the challenge of adaptation.  Two days in Quebec and the challenge of communicating put a smile on my face the entire time. It’s different than back home (where Spanish is popular enough to try to immerse myself in the language) because I always have English to fall back on.  In a world where English is non-existent and frowned upon, I am forced to learn, communicate, and progress.

Quebec has rivaled any experience I’ve had on this trip so far.  I can’t wait to the day when I can spend a significant amount of time in culture shock.

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..Ottawa, Parliament, and yes….More Snow.

Ahhhh,,rest.

I managed to sleep in a warm bed last night.  I’m not sure how “where I sleep” has become such a topic of conversation, but it seems to be something of interest these days.

So, I had a good night sleep and I’m ready to head to Montreal.

The Great White North

While driving to Montreal, I saw a sign for Ottawa and debated whether or not to go.  I knew that I would probably be giving up a day of walking around Montreal if I did decide to make the two hour trip farther north, but everyone has said that Montreal is a great place for food and the nightlife and these are two things I’m not exploring, which means Ottawa is my choice.

Two hours after the highway diverged, I was in Ottawa.  The country’s capital and home to Parliament. The snow was kicking in high gear.  At the rate the snow was falling, I knew that I would be looking at another interesting night of driving, but for now…it’s time to check out the country’s capital.

My first stop was at a cemetery.  I’m not sure what drew me to this particular cemetery, maybe it was a matter of convenience. I saw some giant headstones and thought the snow falling made for some good photos.

There was also a pretty fancy tomb with the name Laurier on it.  I figured it must have been someone with money or something, but it turned out to be a little bit more than that.

Sir Wilfrid Laurier turned out to be the 7th Prime Minister of Canada and Canada’s first Francophone Prime Minister. He is much revered and considered one of the greatest statesmen in Canadian history.  He holds the Canadian record for Prime Ministers by serving 15 consecutive years in that position.

Wilfrid Laurier

Canada has always had a huge division between the French and English parts of the country and Laurier did a lot to mend those divisions.

Here I stood at the grave of one of the most respected Prime Ministers in Canadian History.  It was completely an accident that I arrived here, but there have been a lot of accidental moments worth remembering on this trip.  This happens to be another one. About 20 minutes later, I would have yet another one.

I left the cemetery and directed myself downtown.  On the way to the city center, I fell across a building that looked out of place here in North America.  It appeared as though it should be in Europe rather than here.

Upon further investigating, I discovered that I had found myself in front of Parliament.

Much like I always do, I venture off the main road for a better look.  There was no competition to turn down the road that went in between an old building and Parliament, maybe it was the “Authorized Vehicles” only sign, I don’t know.

I didn’t see any security gate, so I took a short drive. I only wanted a better picture so I knew I wouldn’t be long and definitely wouldn’t be a bother to anyone.

I drove around a few parking lots getting a stare from all the people in suits walking to and from their cars.  I’m thinking they must have been statesmen.  They were dressed too well to be anything but statesmen.

I drove downhill into a parking lot that could have used some snow plowing. As a result of my ignorance and foolishness, I drove all the way to the back of the parking lot….ahh, haa. They did plow this lot and all the snow was pushed to the back.

How do I know this, you may ask?  Well, lets just say that I had to rock the car back-n-forth a little to get out of the snow bank and turn around.

Ok, picture this if you will. A big guy in a compact car spinning the wheels as I rocked the back-n-forth in the parking lot reserved for the Canadian Parliament.  Yep, that’s me!

Parliament - Ottawa

I should have known something was up when I saw that EVERY vehicle in the parking lot was a SUV with snow tires.

I managed to get out of the snow bank and headed back up the steep road leading up to the main parking lot and road. I might have spun the wheels a few times trying to get up that road too. I’m not saying that I did, but I am saying that it may have been a possibility.

I made it out of the lower parking lot by spinning my way upward to the main lot.  Hmm, I saw another vantage point for a picture.  It was still in the “Authorized Only” parking lot and there was a RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) car sitting there this time.  That’s ok, because I obviously am here by mistake and will gladly turn around once I am made aware of my mistake.

The view was awesome.  The overlook from which I stood could see the Ottawa River, the skyline, and the Federal Government Buildings. The police officer didn’t seem to concerned with me so I took a few more pictures before hopping back in the car to thaw my photo-snapping fingers.

I weaved around the lot and pulled off to the side once more for a picture or two.  My parking in this spot has gotten me more funny looks than any other moment on this entire trip.  Ok, Ok, I get it!  I’m not suppose to be back here. No worries, I’m getting ready to leave.  I can’t count on both hands the amount of suits that gave me funny looks. They would look at me, look at my car, look at me, and look at the police officer.

Were they frightened? I didn’t know. I was starting to feel pressured to leave this “gazing at Eric” zone

As I got back into the car, I saw the sign right next to my car that clearly stated “Reserved for members of House of Commons.” Remember that road mentioned earlier? The one that went between Parliament and an old building? Well, that’s not just any “old building,” it’s the House of Commons.  Hmmmm. There were plenty of other spots in the lot, but I had somehow managed to take a front row seat for some of the most distinguished people in Canada. It was slightly embarrassing, but yet amusing at the same time. I thought it was a loading and unloading zone, not the best parking spot in the entire House of Commons!

Kids, this is a NO, NO.  I do not ever recommend this kind of behavior as it will almost always get you into trouble!

I digress…

I enjoyed my stay for the day in Ottawa, but needed to push forward. By this time, it was getting dark, after all, it is almost 3:30pm, why wouldn’t it be getting dark?  I was going to hit Montreal close to rush hour. Oh joy, I can’t wait.

Upon entering the Quebec province, I noticed some rather prominent changes. The road signs no longer were in both English and French. Isn’t it strange how the rest of Canada is making an effort to appease the French speakers by using both languages on EVERYTHING, but the citizens of Quebec couldn’t care less? Billboards, road signs, etc. were now in French only.  I was a little surprised because I have always heard that Montreal is such an international city.  It might be an international city, but their road signs sure aren’t. The upside to this is my new found knowledge of many French words found commonly on road signs.

The snow began to blow

After being trapped in stop and go traffic for another rainy hour in Montreal, I was ready to stop for the night.  I would have liked to stop in Montreal to explore the city for the night, but like I said earlier, I think they are known more for their food and nightlife, which is out of my budget.

Before stopping for the night,  I preferred to get as close to Quebec City as possible so I pushed on past Montreal as much as possible.  Once again, the rain in the city turned into snow in the countryside.  This is the 4th out of the last 6 nights that snow is a factor in my driving.  This is the worst night by far!

Speeds that eclipsed 70mph near the fringes of the city have slowed down to 50mph, 40mph, and now a mind boggling 20mph!  Each exit (oh, sorry Quebec, “sortie”) was greeted with another motorist calling it quits for the night.  By the time we slowed down to 20mph, I could no longer make out where the road ended and the ditch began.  I guess Quebec doesn’t believe in using their plows in the countryside because they sure should have used them.  The snow was getting deep enough on the freeway to start controlling the vehicles directions.  It’s amazing that nobody turned completely sideways.  There were no longer two lanes.  There was a line of us going between 20mph and 30mph right down (what I believed was) the center of the freeway. I was only hoping to use the tracks that were created by the cars in front of me. With the white precipitation accumulating on the road and the snow blowing wind picking up, visibility was nearing zero as well.  It was getting to be quite frightening and there was no telling how long it would be before I ended up in a ditch.

I pulled off at the next exit; Berthierville, Quebec. I stopped in the gas station to use the restroom (or washroom for you Canadians.) I had seen the signs change over from bilingual to only French, but I was certain that kids in school would have been taught basic survival English, especially since it seems to be the dominant language in Canada.  Well, after 20 minutes of trying to ask the late teens/early 20’s cashier at the gas station where the bathroom is, I’m now proven to be wrong.  She had NO grasp of English whatsoever.

I would come to find out through my few interactions throughout the rest of the evening, that people in northeast Quebec haven’t a clue, nor do they want a clue as how to speak English. Now I understand their desire to secede from Canada. They are completely different from the rest of Canada.

I will stay in for the night, but not in my car.  While I am feeling like I’m getting over my sickness, I don’t think it would be advisable to run my car for warmth periodically throughout the night.  I could be buried in snow and exhaust by morning.  So it is a hotel again!

Even the hotel resembles Europe more than North America.  These Nordiques really are Anti-North American in every way possible.

Tomorrow, I shall visit Quebec City, the epicenter of all that is French in Canada.

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