...on my feet. Mostly on my toenails, and it would come off easily with a bit of nail polish remover, but the task of digging that bottle out from amongst the chaotic piles of my things is far too daunting to undertake tonight. It will eventually come off on its own, or, when I am more settled, I will get more ambitious as well.
When I left Ann Arbor on the 15th, there was some question as to when I would actually begin my service with AmeriCorps*VISTA down in Texas. We had not yet received the okay from the state office, and it was questionable whether we would have it before Wednesday, my estimated time of departure. Still, I spent Monday and Tuesday sorting through boxes and bags at my parents' house, preparing myself, so that "even if they email me with the okay at 4:00 Tuesday, I'll be ready to go."
By early Tuesday afternoon, I had nearly readied myself to not leave Michigan until sometime later. Lo and behold, true to my own inadvertent prediction, around 4:00 I checked my email to find that approval had been granted -- all systems were a go.
On Wednesday morning, I said goodbye to my parents and my fuzzball, got in my car, and left my parents' house for grand adventure. My first destination? Indianapolis, Indiana. The drive was uneventful, save for a mid-day migraine that blurred my vision and forced me to leave the road. By the time I found a gas station to buy pain reliever, my peripheral vision was beginning to return. The Tylenol lessened the dull ache in my temples, and I returned to my travels. I stopped once more to find a post office, and arrived in Westfield, Indiana just after 5:00, flowers and wedding book for Gina in hand. The visit was short, but enjoyable, and I got to see the ring that now graces her left hand.
Tuesday I took my time getting started. I finally hit the highway around 11:30am, having changed my destination from Memphis, TN to Birmingham, AL. Deciding that my cross-country roadtrip would not be complete without stopping for a few small adventures enroute. I stopped first at The Falls of the Ohio State Park, on the Indiana side of the Ohio River, just across from Louisville, KY. There I learned about the incredible number of fossils found at this one location, took a few photographs, and continued on my way.
As I drove through Kentucky, I began to see signs for the many caves scattered across the state. Most were in locations not convenient to my journey, but I set my mind to spelunking before the end of the day. Finally, I saw a sign for Mammoth Cave -- perhaps the most famous of them all -- and found it to be just five miles off the beaten path. So, when the opportunity presented itself, I excited the highway and began winding through the woods of Kentucky. When I saw a deer quietly nibbling its dinner along the road, I slammed on my brakes, then laughed at myself for becoming a city girl deterred by such a formerly common sight. After what seemed like far more than the 5 miles indicated, I parked my car, changed my shoes, and went inside. Not pausing at the desk to check the tour times, I headed for the bathroom. As I washed my hands, my phone rang -- my dad, checking up on me. I talked to him for little more than three minutes, then walked up to the desk to request a tour. Too bad for me -- I missed the last one by a total of seven minutes. The kind lady directed me to the historical entrance of the cave, where I could walk in far enough to get a feel for the cave, though not far enough for any actual exploring (or danger).
Lesson learned: spelunking is not for me. At the far gate, the sunlight that graced the opening several yards behind me was hard to come by. Through the open bars, I saw only pitch black, but I could feel the breeze of the cave winds and hear the cavey noises. And I freaked out. The adventurous part of myself wanted to linger there and soak it in. The coward within me edged back toward the safety of the stairs leading above ground. I wandered back toward the Visitor's Center, taking a path that climbed the hills through the woods, completing a half-mile or so hike that more than satisfied my curiosity and renewed my energy for the long drive still ahead.
My third and final side trip for the day brought me into Nashville. I visited the city twice for high school mission trips, and once returning from spring break in 2006. Those experiences combined with its prime Southern location have earned the town a soft place in my heart, and I was excited to return to it. It seems, however, that my high opinion was, in part, correlated to the fact that I'd never actually driven within the city limits. After circling downtown once or twice, and finding nothing of real interest, I stopped off at a Kroger, where I got no more than vague suggestions and equally vague directions. Stopping off at hotel proved somewhat more fruitful, as the desk clerk provided a drawn map, and even parking suggestions. However, there must have been an event at the conference center, as signs at every lot declared a $5.00 fee for the privilege of parking there. I had no cash, and the bright lights of "NashVegas" had long since lost their appeal with my growing hunger and frustration. Finally I gave up my quest and began to search for the highway again, deciding that McDonalds would be better an option than this mess. Inadvertantly, however, I found myself in the Vanderbilt University area, a location I've described as "a quaint town within the city" in the past. There I found not only restaurants, but parking lots accompanying them. Hallelujah.
I had intended to drive all the way to Birmingham that night, but I didn't make it. Giving in to exhaustion, I stopped off in Decatur, AL, and spent the night in a pleasant little hotel. Friday morning, I started my day in Office Depot. Late the night before I checked my email and found out that I needed to print, complete, and fax a few forms to the AmeriCorps state office right away pronto. Mission accomplished -- ahead of schedule -- I drove the last hour into Birmingham. At 1:00 I had to be available to do the Oath of Service for AmeriCorps over the phone, and my arrival time didn't allow me to do much until then, so I drove through town. As Nashville was chaotic and unpleasant, Birmingham was peaceful and welcoming. There was parking at every turn, and I found a quaint coffee shop in which to have lunch.
If you are ever in the Birmingham downtown area, visit the Safari Cup. I recommend it to anyone, and hope that I'll have the opportunity to return some day. The decor was African-inspired, with many authentic pieces. The service was pleasant and the food delicious. I had a "salawich" called the Lion's Feast -- possibly the strangest, yet surprisingly wonderful meal I've ever had. After lunch and my swearing in, I hopped a couple of streets over to explore a little shop called "What's on Second?" -- a tiny story filled with everything imaginable, from political buttons promoting Walter Mondale to antique postcards to false teeth from the 40s and 50s. I spent an hour exploring, then headed across town to the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute, a living museum detailing the history of the local civil rights movement. I spent two and a half hours there. I was nearly at the end of the trail when an employee came through and announced the institutes's closing.
Black, white, blue, gray...this is a place that all people should visit, experience, and understand. It is essential to comprehending what it means to be an american, and to be human. It chronicled the fight for not just equal opportunity, but equal standing -- to be treated not as a lesser being, but as a person of character and worth. Birmingham is a city that defies stereotypes, but it hasn't done it without blood, sweat, and tears. It was only through the efforts and perseverance of brave men, women, and children, some of whom sacrificed their lives for the cause. Every death, every lynching, every ounce of cruelty simply spurred them on, giving fuel to the hope that drove them.
I left Birmingham still in awe, and headed toward New Orleans. It was later than I had planned, and it got dark quickly. I saw nothing of Mississippi but the stars, and they certainly were bright and extravagant. Exhausted, I pulled into Slidell, Louisiana to find a place to sleep.
Lesson learned: Stay away from New Orleans if its the same month as Mardi Gras, let alone the weekend beforehand. I paid far too much for a hotel room that was nice...but not that nice. Then I was woken by a pair of drunk guys stumbling home at two am. When I woke, I readied quickly, got my breakfast, and left the area. Though it added both time and miles to my trip, I drove south and looped through New Orleans. The drive across Lake Ponchartrain was beautiful. The rest of the city seemed to be nothing special, but I didn't get out of the car to explore either.
Saturday was my last day of the journey, and I puddle jumped my way across Louisiana and into Texas, where I was greeted by a rainstorm. I paused for just a moment to gather tourist materials at the Texas Welcome Center, but I was just a couple of hours from "home," and I couldn't wait to get there. After a slight mishap in Houston that involved terrifying highways and incomplete directions, I pulled into Angleton, TX, tired yet relieved to bring an end to my long journey.
No comments:
Post a Comment