Don't stop believin' (Nashville to Los Angeles, The End) (9/22/2012)

So that's it. The next morning, we finished things off by eating brunch at Cracker Barrel, basically the most southern restaurant of all time, which features items like ham, sausage, grits (look this up), eggs, biscuits, etc. We thanked my aunt Cathy, made it to the airport, and parted ways. Franc flew American and I flew Southwest (the superior airline). The plane ride was excellent, to say the least; read Charlotte's Web and sat behind some college grad bragging about all the guys she's screwed over.

Like I said before, I can't believe Franc and I actually pulled this off--and it feels oh-so-good. We camped in the Smokies, drove the Blue Ridge Parkway; we walked on Gettysburg, witnessed a little fall color; we saw the White Mountains of New Hampshire, made it to the coast of Maine; we explored the old city of Boston, walked through Mark Twain's house; we raged at Yale, introduced ourselves to New York, Philadelphia, and D.C. We drove over 3,000 miles in less than three weeks.

And despite all this, it was the little things that made this trip worth it. Just that feeling of "lighting out for the territory"--that freedom, that's what we loved. I recall a moment a few days ago when Franc and I were leaving Kobe's high school in Philly and were suddenly caught in a heavy, windy downpour. We were driving on a stormy highway, listening to the Eagles, when our surroundings opened as we crossed a bridge over the majestic Susquehanna River. That moment was reason enough for me to have taken this trip.

I wrote in the first post of this blog that we hoped to discover our country, and I think we did that--to an extent. The reality is that there is so much, so, so much, that this country has to offer, and my thirst for experiencing it is unquenchable. Between this road trip and the one I took last summer, I feel I have only barely cracked the surface of that discovery. Now before this starts sounding too cheesy, I want to say thanks for following us and hopefully you got a little piece of what we experienced. And if you ever find the chance, I strongly recommend trying to see this place we call home. Take a road trip from Los Angeles to San Francisco, or from L.A. to Chicago, or, better yet, just go around the whole damn country. Because quite honestly, these highways are made for us.

Nashville skyline (Nashville) (9/21/2012)

Yeah! We made it back to homebase, Nashville. It felt so good to have completed this trip that just a month prior we were scrambling to put together. The '92 Ford Ranger, Ol' Stonewall, had given us zero problems--truly a miracle. We took my aunt Cathy out to dinner for some good old southern barbecue to celebrate.

And later that night, we journeyed into downtown as one final hurrah. On weekends, downtown Nashville is flooded with neon lights and little bars (called honky tonks) blasting live country music. There was so much noise and commotion everywhere, it was actually pretty exciting--though bittersweet because neither of us are twenty-one. And an interesting crowd, filled with dudes strutting around wearing boots and cowboy hats--a far cry from the hipsters of New York.

We decided to call it a night around 1am, headed back to Cathy's, and hit the hay--very hard.

Goodbye stranger (Bristol, TN) (9/20/2012)

We bade Kelly and Nancy goodbye and began our official trek back to Nashville. We took smaller highways through Virginia, down to Bristol, Tennessee. All the while, we were passing through just fantastically beautiful rural country, similar to the farms we saw during a certain stretch of the Blue Ridge Parkway. Rolling hills, green as can be, old oak and hickory trees sprinkling our road with shade. It was one of those moments I would like to keep and stretch out for a few more days.

Anyhow, we made camp in lovely little Bristol, right on the edge of Cherokee National Forest. However, beforehand, we stopped at a gas station in town to "get our bearings," at which point Franco made one of the greatest mistakes to which I've ever bared witness.

Situation: Franc is pumping our gas, and I go inside the mini mart. When I come back out, we find our camping spot on his phone, set the navigation, get into our car (Franc driving), and pull away. At that moment, we hear a loud thud. Franc stops the car, peeks his head out the window, and immediately turns back toward me, shocked, his mouth open with disbelief. With this, I step out of the car, believing our bumper or something has fallen off.

Turns out, big-time Franc had pulled away from the station--with gas pump still in car. The best part was that the awkward teenage gas attendant, who had been sweeping out front, was frozen, staring at the detached hose. He was interrupted by Franco's hesitant inquiry, "So... what happens now...?"

In the end, nothing happened, and the manager told us to simply leave the station. We made a lot of similar mistakes on the trip while driving (leaving cell phone on top of car, leaving keys in door, leaving gas nozzle open, leaving shoes on top of car...), but Franc really did something special that day, and I applaud him for it. All in all, I couldn't have asked for a better experience to end our last full day on the road.

Slow it down, Willy Boy (Washington D.C.) (9/19/2012)

The next morning we took the subway from Alexandria to D.C., a cleaner, better transport than in New York. We stepped out onto the National Mall (basically the strip between the Capitol Building and the Washington Monument, lined with various museums), took a breath of fresh federal air, then a confident step into the first of many museums, the Air and Space. Inside, we explored the wealth of actual planes on display, including Lindbergh's Spirit of St. Louis and the Wright Brothers' Wright Flyer. Also on display were the space suits worn by Buzz Aldrin, Neil Armstrong, and, I think, Michael Collins during the Apollo 11 mission. So many historic items in one place; it was very humbling.

Afterward, we headed over to the National Gallery of Art, which was pristine and held a good collection of American art. We also dropped by the capitol building, with the epic Grant Memorial out front. After this, we went over, off the main mall area, to the National Portrait Gallery and finally got to see some classic Hudson River School works--which was classic. With so much stuff to do and only one day, we just kept going, moving at a quick pace over to the White House to stare mindlessly through a fence with security in every direction. Regardless, that was cool. Walking down past the Washington Monument, the World War II Memorial, and the reflecting pool, we entered into the fairly sacred Lincoln Memorial. Once we walked past those pillars and stared up into the giant face of old Abe, it was actually pretty harrowing. There is little writing in the building, say for an inscription of the Gettysburg Address to the left, his second Inauguration speech to the right, and an epitaph above his head, dimly lit, that reads:

IN THIS TEMPLE
AS IN THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE
FOR WHOM HE SAVED THE UNION
THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
IS ENSHRINED FOREVER.

That was the closest thing to governmental sanctity I've ever actually felt; it was definitely my highlight of D.C.

Following this, we decided we'd cap off our night with something very Chesapeake: crab! So we walked down to the local fish market, just before closing time, and had ourselves a feast of crabcakes. It was damn good, and Franco says it was his favorite meal of our trip (which is really saying something).

We took the subway back to Kelly's, satisfied, both in our stomachs and our minds. We felt we had seen most of what we wanted in D.C., using our time economically. We both agreed the city was clean, beautiful, and that we would even consider living nearby.

Left my wallet in El Segundo (Philadelphia) (9/18/2012)

We left the infinity of possibilities that is New York City for our nation's capitol, Washington D.C. However, before doing the D.C., we stopped by Philadelphia to do the Philly cheese steak. Oh, and
Independence Hall. For the steak, we ate at one of those shops that always claims to originate a pretty generic idea; in this case, it was a cheese and steak sandwich. Even so, Pat's King of Steaks tasted beautiful.

Independence Hall, the place where both the Declaration of Independence and Constitution were signed, tasted equally delicious. Truth be told, nothing tastes better than freedom--with a side of
equality and justice.

After Independence, we made a final stop that unquestionably had to be done: a visit to Lower Merion High School in Ardmore, PA, a suburb of Philly. Yes, this is Kobe's alma mater, and it felt wonderful to be there. A staff member saw us lingering near the main entrance and kindly let us in. He showed us a glass display of Kobe's high school jersey in one of the corridors, then granted us access to the relatively new Bryant Gym that Kobe financed. Good stuff, and afterward we were soaked running through a heavy downpour to our car. It was worth it.

Onward, ho! To D.C., we drove. We stayed with my Uncle Kelly and Aunt Nancy in Alexandria, about twenty minutes outside Capitol Hill. Unfortunately, Kelly had just had a heart attack a few days prior to our arrival; but being the hard-as-nails guy he is, he was already home and looking great by the time we got there. We had dinner and talked with him and Nancy about what to do in the capitol the next day. Kelly is actually a former employee of the Department of Defense who worked extensively in the Pentagon, so he provided us with some great insight into and personal experiences with our federal government. It's also worth mentioning he's had a mustache since 1973. (Max, take notes.)

Manhattan keep on makin' it, Brooklyn keep on takin' it (New York City) (9/14/2012-9/18/2012)

New York has definitely been  the highlight of our trip. I'll break it down into a day-by-day synopsis to even attempt to capture what's happened.

Day 1 (9/14/12)

It was a pretty spectacular moment driving down the 95, coming around a bend, to see the horizon give birth to the New York skyline. This was definitely the biggest city we'd been in since we left LA. Once we got into it, we faced one of the biggest problems in New York: parking.

It took us about two hours to find an overnight parking spot for a "reasonable" $35 a night. Overall, I'd say it wasn't too brutal, especially since we were staying with my old buddy, Stephen Mackey, for free. This really alleviated the financial burden that is staying in New York.

Anyhow, once we settled in, Stephen took me and Raffi on a little tour towards Time's Square. It was a completely different world, with street performers and lights everywhere you looked. Among the highlights were sampling M&M's at the M&M store, reaching a restaurant at the top of the Marriott in Time's Square, taking the gondola to Roosevelt Island to check out an old abandoned small pox hospital, and trying the famous frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity 3.

9/15/12

Stephen had lots of reading to do, so Raffi and I decided to venture out as a duo on this day. We walked down through part of Chinatown, towards the World Trade Center. At the site, a small memorial marked where the twin towers had fallen eleven years and four days prior. Next to it stands the ongoing construction of the Freedom Tower, a skyscraper serving almost as a mirror to the sky. After paying our respects, we decided to head east towards the famous Brooklyn Bridge. I managed to slip into a music store and get a little piano jam sesh in with a shopkeeper before we hit the bridge, which was cool.

We crossed the bridge so many construction workers had lost their lives raising, and met Stephen at the Alma's Restaurant in Brooklyn Heights. The sun set as we ate our dinner, then Raffi left to meet up with his friend, another NYU student, Jason Boxer.

Stephen and I headed over the Barge Music to listen to a classical quintet play some Mozart. Rocking on the barge on the East River with a view of downtown Manhattan, the music really topped off the elegance of the moment. However the night only took off from there.

To keep things brief, (if you wanna know details, ask me in person) we walked back across the bridge, had a couple run-ins with Occupiers, the NYPD, and an NBC news van. We checked out the fanciest McDonald's, and had a beer in a small Irish sports bar then took a detour home. We walked along the Hudson, with a view of Hoboken, and into a huge turf soccer field. After taking some pictures and seeing some rats, we headed home. However, some house music distracted us on the way so we checked it out. Turns out we had walked into a gay club on Christopher Street. We stood awkwardly inside for a couple minutes until Stephen, noticing how dead the scene was, came up with the idea to start dancing like idiots and get the party going. We did. (Ask in person for more details. No worries, it's G rated..) Exhausted from our day's adventures, we finally made it home at around three in the morning.

9/16

With aching legs, Raffi and I wandered up north to hit up the famous Carnegie Deli to have ourselves a full blown New York pastrami sandwich. And what we asked for is what we got. The equivalent of about two steak's worth of corned beef and pastrami stacked on our plate with two measly slices of rye bread on each end. Along with some smack talking from a New Yorker sitting next us (I had apparently knocked a little bit of his coffee on his shirt), I'd say this ranks up there as one of the manliest meals I've ever had.

After the lunch, we took a pleasant stroll through Central Park, where performers of all sorts were pedalling for money. Although we stopped every couple minutes to watch, we eventually made it to the subway that would take us downtown.

Unfortunately, the Statue of Liberty tours were closed down, so we ended up just taking the Staten Island Ferry past the statue. But what a view it was! The sun set pretty much right behind the statue, accentuating Lady Liberty's crown and torch. The round trip took about an hour, so when we came back it was dark.

Walking back up, through Greenwich Village, we passed by Washington Square, where we heard the ringing of intricate piano playing. Surely enough, we ran across a man sitting on a Steinway grand piano under the arch, playing what were the most technically challenging pieces I've ever heard in person. He was just about finished, when he asked, "Anyone else wanna play something?" Realizing this opportunity may not strike again, I decided to play my original jazz ballad, "Maika," under the lit-up Washington Square Arch. Later, I clanked through the Rondo a la Turk, for which I earned ten dollars. Naturally, I gave the ten dollars to the player, who gave me a signed CD in return. The music had really built up an appetite, so we started food hunting.

We had passed so many Halal food stands in NYC, we decided it was time we grub. We ordered some gyros from a small falafel joint and had crepes for dessert. A successful day.

9/17

Since our friends were in class on this Monday, we thought it would be a good idea to check out the American Museum of Natural History. Raffi left the museum around three because he wanted to check out the Met across Central Park so we parted ways. I was in the museum until it closed at 5:45.

After my sunset stroll through Central Park, I headed to Chinatown with Stephen, while Raffi met up with Jason. We picked up some lemon pastry, ate a whopping three dollar dinner (from which we were stuffed), and had some boba. For once, we didn't pay a fortune for a full dinner in New York.

Stephen's roommate, Kevin is an intense swing dancer, so after dinner he was able to take me, Stephen, and Stephen's other roommate, Leef, to a swing concert. (In the meantime, Raffi took the famous ascent to the observatory of the Empire State Building.) I watched people dance as the band played classic Basie and Ellington swing tunes. It was a hip place to be. We ended the night on a long, political discussion at the apartment; another day well spent, and a fine way to end our stay in New York City.

Open arms (Hartford, New Haven) (9/13/12)

After a good night's rest at the Sigma Chi frat house's couch, Raffi and I headed out for New Haven. On the road there, we planned on stopping in Hartford first though.

Hartford harbors the Wadsworth Atheneum, home to the largest collection of the famous Hudson River School, and also the oldest art museum in the country (so they say). Anyhow, to our great disappointment the Hudson River School collection was temporarily not viewable. In an attempt to compensate for this let down, we decided to check out the Mark Twain house. Despite the pricey tickets, the house offered us a good hour of entertainment. The house was designed with features of a steam boat, and each room lay decorated in a variety of refurbished furnishing and wallpaper. We learned about Mark, actually named Samuel Langhorn Clemens, through interesting stories about his personal life, told by our charming, old-man tour guide.

We spent about another hour on the road, when we finally met Alex at Yale. Yale provided us with a stark contrast to the Harvard campus we had seen the night prior. Filled with Gothic style architecture -- as compared to the hardy brick building -- the campus was a breath of fresh air compared to the other ivy league schools we had seen. Also, Alex showed us the "Rare Books" library, which not only held two original copies of the Gutenberg Bible, but also a vacuumed pillar containing tens of thousands of original old books, ready to be taken underground in case of some apocalyptic scenario. Needless to say, this was place was pretty decked out.

We met Greg ushering at an a capella event, dressed in a full suit with sandals to replace the shoes. After his ushering duties, he met us up at Alex's place, where we all shared some drinks and laughs. As the night progressed, we shifted locations several times between the Lynnwood House, another party house where we met up with Sophie Miller, and a restaurant where Sophie recommended I get the "Wenzel."

It was a great night to say the least, and I slept well on Greg's couch. Thanks again to all of you for making this night a great one. You are always welcome at UCI and UCSB.

Acadian Driftwood (Acadia National Park) (9/11/2012)

Wayne's generosity knows no bounds. After the lobster rolls incident of the previous night, he took us to breakfast the next morning. Seeing Colby College in the daylight, we were finally able to take in its true beauty. The people were friendly and everyone seemed to know Wayne; after all he is the class of '14 president.
We parted ways around 10am. Acadia National Park, off the Maine coast was our destination. After about a two hour drive, we arrived at Bar Harbor, a small tourist trap on the periphery of Acadia National. It was wonderful to see the ocean again, but annoying to be in a desperately touristy area. Still, with lobster starting at about eight dollars a pound, we figured "when in Maine." Lunch and dinner ended up being lobster and lobster, respectively.
Actually, our dinner was rather amazing for two reasons. First, while walking around some docks on the more local and authentic Bass Harbor on the southern side, we ran into a really rugged, gruff, and extremely classic bearded fishermen who explained to us (in an incredibly unique Maine accent) what he called the "free range farming" that is the driving force behind Maine's thriving lobster industry. This guy was really friendly and exactly what you might expect a New England fisherman (lobsterman, in this case) to be like (in a really great way). Second reason: while eating in the nearby shanty, we watched as an old man nearly choked to death before being heimlicked by another diner, a young, probably gay Asian man. Truly surreal and truly classic.
We ended our night by camping in the national park, near the rocky Atlantic coast, under a brilliant, starry Maine sky.

We were just another band out of Boston (Boston) (9/12/2012)

Thus we said goodbye to the unique natural beauty of Acadia and headed south toward the grimy, slightly suffocating city of Boston. David Luna, who goes to Boston University, was our host for the night and was nice enough to let us stay in his frat house... classic. Before meeting with him, we took a stroll around downtown, through Boston Common Park, then along the so-called Freedom Trail. The Freedom Trail is a two mile hike around Boston, marked by the city's very historic sites. We saw revolutionary meeting grounds, Paul Revere's gravesite, the site of the Boston Massacre--that sort of thing. It was fun. We also stumbled upon the inner city residential neighborhood of Beacon Hill, filled with seemingly age-old brick houses. Curious about prices, we asked a passer-by for a rough appraisal, to which he responded, "They start at sixteen million."

Later that night we met up with David, who gave us his own personal tour of the city. This included a stop for clam chowder at the "Ye Olde" Union Oyster House, a place that claims to be the oldest restaurant in America. Afterwards, he took us to a renowned pastry joint, Mike's Pastries, for sweet and creamy canolis.

On our drive home through Cambridge, we stopped at Harvard to walk around and say hi to an old friend, Andrea. She gave us the Del Conte tour of the campus. Very beautiful school, and just across the Charles River from Boston. We slept well that night in a frat house that was unusually clean.

Boston was interesting, a cool mix of our country's colonial roots and the new agey-ness of a modern city. Even so, we were ready for what Yale would have to offer the next day.

Luftwaffekrieg (Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine) (9/10/2012)

Well, I guess I shouldn't have titled this blog so specifically because we're only ten days into our trip, and we're already done with the Appalachian Trail portion of it. We left Maine yesterday and are now leaving Boston.
To catch you up: we spent the 10th driving through Vermont and New Hampshire after we left the Berkshires of Massachusetts. We've been sticking to these little two lane highways that are constantly running through quaint, lovely little New England towns. As efficient as the interstate highway system is, it completely destroys the experience of getting to know the area through which you drive. The old highways may be slow, but if you find the right ones, they are worth it.
Vermont and New Hampshire are shaped similarly, but they aren't very similar states. I mean, yeah, they are both into maple syrup and moose crossing signs, but Vermont's geography is pretty wimpy compared to the vast mountain landscape of New Hampshire, which actually reminded us of Yosemite.
We started by driving through the Green Mountain National Forest in Vermont, then later stopped at Dartmouth College in Hanover, NH to look around for a few minutes. Like most liberal arts schools, it was very elegant and picturesque. From there, we made it through the White Mountain National Forest of New Hampshire. Finally, after taking a million wrong turns we ended up at Colby College in Waterville, Maine, home of the one and only Wayne Kim. Wayne is the only guy I know who would greet us at 10pm with a relatively expensive staple of Maine cuisine: lobster rolls (basically sandwiches). What a guy. He gave us a brief tour of the campus, introduced us to some Colby kids, then we crashed.

The wheel in the sky keeps on turnin' (Delaware Water Gap, West Point) (9/9/12)

Despite having to wake up early to keep up with the trip's mileage demands, I was excited today. We were to spend the morning at the Delaware Water Gap, a point at which the Delaware River has carved out a winding path through the surrounding mountainous landscape. They didn't do the best job with mapping the place out, and Google Maps on my phone was not complying, so we had just about given up on finding the specific viewpoint. Then, a change of fortune: we stumbled upon it on our way back to the freeway. Anyway, the gap itself was very pretty, and I was excited to jump into the fresh mountain river. There's always something so cleansing about the natural water, perhaps the secret lies in the minerals constantly being kicked up by the current. After swimming for about twenty minutes and skipping some stones with Raffi, we hit the road. We bounced back and forth between the Pennsylvania-New Jersey border a few times, then made it to New York.
Our good friend Walter Woo goes to school at West Point Military Academy, so we decided to pay him a visit. We greeted Walter by a large, well-groomed parade field, and he took us around for a little tour. The place held statues of military greats such as Washington, MacArthur, Eisenhower and more. It was a beautiful campus, but I'm not sure I would survive such a regulated curriculum. Props to you, Walter. Unfortunately we didn't have too much time, so we hit the road again after parting with Walter.
Over the Hudson River we drove. The bridge was spectacular and it offered a little lookout on the Connecticut side. The goal was Vermont, 6 states in a single day of driving, a cool feat to be accomplished in the tightly packed New England area. Once we hit the Berkshires in Massachusetts though, we knew this goal had to be compromised. Darkness had already set in, and it looked as if the forecast of 0% rain was not to be true.
As a result, we cut the drive short and are stayed in a small, charming motel across the street from Williams College in Williamstown.
Today's goal: Maine.
Stay tuned!

Don't think twice, it's all right (Gettysburg) (9/8/2012)

We awoke early to get a head start on the history Gettysburg would have to offer. We were, however, stalled by the Indian owner of our lousy motel, who proceeded to lecture us on his own greatness--how he does everything, fixes everything, himself. Staring at a window with a taped up bullet hole, we were having trouble giving him the attention he probably didn't deserve. Plus his accented English was practically a different language, and his disfigured teeth were rather unpleasant. One thing we were able to catch was his confident proclamation that he knows "all engineering--electrical, mechanical, and chemical." Frank was pleased to hear this.
So back to the main event: Gettysburg. So much history in one place. We weren't sure where to begin, so we drove over to the main visitor center of the Gettysburg National Military Park. There, we each dropped $8 dollars to visit one of the most extensive, amazing exhibits I've ever seen. It was huge, for one, and it covered the entirety of the Civil War period through myriad preserved artifacts--everything from guns to cannons, lice combs to recreations of tent areas. Also included was a special, beautifully rendered room for the Gettysburg Address.
After spending some time in the museum, we decided it was time to roam the actual former battle sites--despite a sudden thunderstorm. The whole battle was fought over such a large area that almost everywhere we drove or walked in this fairly sizeable town, we saw a massive sculpture, monument, or plaque. We mainly only visited the site of Pickett's charge and of Lincoln's delivery of the Address, but overall we had a fantastic, informative experience in Gettysburg.
On a final note, I'm not sure what is more fascinating: the war or our country's fascination with the war. This war, in particular, is not necessarily something to be proud of. Remember it and commemorate those who died, we should; but reenacting and recreating battles, erecting gargantuan statues, glorifying it all, all where real men gave and received vicious, gruesome deaths--it seems wrong. As one Confederate soldier was quoted as saying, "War is a strange scale for measuring men."

Bones sinking like stones (Harpers Ferry) (9/7/2012)

Before we said goodbye to Skyline Drive and Shenandoah National Park, we took a small hike and saw a few thru-hikers on the Appalachian Trail, including an old John Muir-ish looking fellow, armed with an oversized backpack and a sturdy walking stick. He looked to be in his 60s or 70s and yelled out to us that he started in May and is hoping to finish in November. How admirable and cool.
So we left one national park and set our sights on yet another, historic Harpers Ferry in West Virginia. Only this park is a little different. It's actually a preserved town located on the mountainous point where the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers converge. It is a place of countless historic incidents, most notably in 1859, when radical (probably an understatement) abolitionist John Brown attempted a raid to free slaves being held there, which went ridiculously, absurdly wrong. In short, he and his band of liberators were captured, tried, and hanged. This incident was more or less the "straw that broke the camel's back"--thus, the Civil War erupted shortly thereafter.
The park service has managed to maintain the town's buildings since Civil War time, recreating their insides, and decorating others with museums. It's a one of a kind place, said to be the birth of America's first railroad, canal, and large factory.
The town is sort of one big hill, offering marvelous views of both rivers and their surrounding mountains. One viewpoint we stood on is Jefferson's Rock, so named because Thomas Jefferson once stood on it and dramatically uttered something along the lines of: "This sight is worth crossing the Atlantic for." Although the view is pretty spectacular, Franco and I both agreed he was just trolling the American history books. The real sights are on the Blue Ridge Parkway, and T.J. knew it.
We left Harpers Ferry and headed into Maryland, or what I would call "The Misty State," for everywhere we looked, there sat a thin layer of mist. It was literally everywhere--over endless fields, on streets, in our car...
Anyway, we traveled through four states that day: Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, and, finally, Pennsylvania, where we checked into a hotel at hallowed ground, Gettysburg.

Each one is a setting sun... (Shenandoah National Park) (9/6/2012)

We woke up late, 11:26 to be exact. Despite the rain that fell again, we both slept considerably better than we had in the Smokies, with only a small rain leak 'round 3 that was fixed within five minutes. Well rested, we were ready to escape the spider-infested campground.
It was surprising to witness the change in the landscape. From the rolling countryside farms, we ascended to about 4000 feet, driving virtually on top of a narrow ridge. Both sides of the parkway held breathtaking views of the farmland valleys below. The smell of fresh grass mixed with the panoramic views reminded me of my home country, Switzerland, except this wilderness felt a lot less tamed, perhaps more adventurous. This was reflected in the people we ran across. One example was this man driving an old, orange Volkswagen bus. We noticed him because we had stopped at one of the many viewpoints on the road and saw one of the old man bikers that had taken a seemingly deep fascination towards the bus. I approached it to see what the commotion was all about. Inside sat a man in his early 40s, on his laptop. He explained all the features of the bus to us, from its two shower heads to the fan he had proudly installed from his sailboat. After finding out he'd been on the road since 2004, I had to ask what he did for a living. He answered nonchalantly with, "software programmer," then, "I'm actually doing work right now." God knows how he does what he does; he left me in admiration.
For lunch, we stopped at an Arby's in Roanoke, where we ate free turkey sandwiches because of some promotion they must've been having... lucky us. We needed to make distance, so right after lunch we headed out towards Shenandoah National Park.
The mountains at Shenandoah seemed to reach even greater heights and views than those earlier, however, the sun was setting and we needed to set up camp. We decided to stay at Lewis Mountain Campground, which was bordered on one side by the Appalachian Trail. This was the closest we'd get to an AT camping experience, especially since the grounds were just about empty.
The little company we had, however, approached us from the get-go. An old, nomadic man living out of his van, with a face like that of Robert E. Lee and a beard that could only be matched by Walt Whitman, lectured us on anything we would ever want to know about soil, farming, population overgrowth, egalitarian philosophy, an imminent apocalypse... well you get the idea. And to make this even better, his parked van was blasting a Grateful Dead concert (from '76, as he specified) throughout the course of our talk, or rather, his talk. To go along with his hippie, vegan lifestyle, he told us his name is spirit (he made a point of saying it's spelled with a lower case "s" because he didn't want to come off as anything above human). Despite offsetting looks, this man's knowledge and quick witted speech was truly exceptional. He is the most interesting character we've met and may be the most interesting man we will ever meet. He reminded me of a gruffer, more extreme version of my old Environmental Science AP teacher, Ben Smith. Being an ex-programmer and clearly very educated as a whole, his words were not to be taken lightly. Clearly we humans have caused extensive damaged to this planet, but I think (and pray) that technological advances will someday be able to undo those damages and carry us into a brighter future. He didn't seem to have much faith in that idea. Anyhow, not to steer off course, we parted ways around 11 to head to bed.
The night was filled with noises, but we fell asleep eventually.
Stay posted.

Oh to be home again... down in ol' Virginny (Blue Ridge Parkway) (9/5/2012)

We left our cabin in the morning to encounter again the drenched mountains of the Blue Ridge Parkway.
At the northernmost outskirt of the Pisgah National Forest we stopped for lunch in a small mountain town called Blowing Rock. This town also happened to hold one of North Carolina's most famous view points, conveniently also called The Blowing Rock, which we decided to check out after lunch. To our disappointment, the viewpoint had been privatized, and due to bad weather (a couple drizzles here and there), closed. We loitered around the building, looking to see if there was any way we could still reach The Blowing Rock, but the only way in would make us trespassers. Then, just as we were about to head back to the truck, a couple in a blue pick up from South Carolina pulled up. The man, smoking a cigarette and wearing what looked to be a motorcycle gang denim vest (with nothing underneath) and some bottom bell jeans, burped and instantly started looking for ways to get to the view point. (We also want to point out he had thin, blonde mutton chops. This was a true hick.) He found the trespassing spot, noticed us watching him, and yelled, "Y'all are stupid if you don't come!" Naturally, we followed him over a wall and onto the property. We then took a couple of picture shots at The Blowing Rock and got out of there.
We left the little mountain village and got back on the Blue Ridge. Eventually somewhere around northern North Carolina, the landscape around us morphed from mountains into the most classic pastoral countryside we've ever seen. There were rolling green hills and red barns everywhere. It was a sight straight out of a picture book, practically cliched. Gee golly, that was amazing.
Anyway, to wrap up this post, we ended up camping at a site called Rocky Knob in Virginia, which was unreasonably infested with a variety of spiders--including large black widows. At one point, one unearthly looking critter crawled on my camera and began spinning. Here's a picture. This freaked me out, to say the least.

Goin' to Carolina in my mind (Blue Ridge Parkway) (9/4/2012)

The rain continued sporadically the following day when we left the Smokies and picked up the Blue Ridge Parkway, right where it begins. But we didn't mind. We turned on some down home country bluegrass, and the parkway took us up into the heart of the foggy Appalachians, twisting and winding across a ridge. In this way, there are immense valleys and other mountains rolling into the horizon on BOTH sides of the parkway. It is unreal.
Let's see, what else is worth mentioning. We saw what appeared to be an inbred, retarded family in a Wal-mart in Hendersonville, North Carolina. I guess stereotypes can be true. Then again, we were only speculating.
That night, we stayed in a rustic log cabin outside of Asheville, North Carolina, near a town called Spruce Pine. That was amazing--playing guitar and listening to Journey while the rain pattered our roof. And the woman who ran the grounds was so nice to us, in the Southern way, that Franco wanted to give her a hug when we left the next morning.

Wheels go 'round and 'round (Great Smoky Mountains N.P.) (9/3/2012)

The night was dawning so we had to find a campground fast. When we reached Smokemont campground, it was nearly 8, and nearly dark. We pitched our tent and were cooking our gourmet Chef Boyardee, when it started drizzling. My tent, hardly used, comes with a rain fly, which we had set up ready for this exact situation. With confidence, we finished our meal, grabbed the guitar and started jamming in the tent under the slowly strengthening rain. At about midnight, (or what we thought to be so because we had forgotten to shift the clock on my phone) we came to a disheartening realization: the tent was slowly flooding!
Our first night and we were facing a serious problem. Raffi and I stashed away the guitar, ran outside to get the extra tarps out of the pick ukkp, and draped them over the tent to prevent excess rain from getting in. After that, we spent about fifteen minutes and an entire roll of paper towels to clean up the accumulated water in the tent. To make matters worse, the tarps had trapped the hot humidity in our tent, so by the end of it, our sweat was basically re-wetting the inside of our tent. What a drag. We also began hearing bizarre, bear-like noises in the distance. Double drag.
Anyway, after an hour or two of cooling down and good conversation, we managed to fall asleep.

Highway run... to the midnight sun (Knoxville, Gatlinburg) (9/3/2012)

Sorry for the delay for those reading. We rarely have service. Right now we are outside Roanoke, Virginia.
"America or Obama. You can't have both." "If you died today, where would you spend ETERNITY?" "Guns! Sale now!" After driving by several giant billboards with these words, we were pretty sure we were in Tennessee. But what a country Tennessee is. Giant fields and tree groves, green as far as the eye can see. And then there are the decrepit faded barns, still smoking with tobacco. There is a strong air of tradition in Tennessee and the whole South that continually makes it the unique world it is.
After leaving Nashville, we arrived in Knoxville, a few hundred miles east, to have lunch with my cousin, Jacob, and his wife, McFall. That was very pleasant. The buildings of downtown (The Old City as they call it) are almost all made of brick, worn and faded. They give the city a distinctly turn-of-the-nineteenth-century, Old West feel, which is fun. Jacob also informed us that Cormac McCarthy is from Knoxville and has written books set in the city, which is cool.
After Knox we were supposed to go to Asheville, North Carolina and meet the Blue Ridge Parkway, but we decided instead to go big and head into Great Smoky Mountains National Park and meet the parkway there. But before we could enter the park, we were forced to drive through the hell that is Gatlinburg, Tennessee, a classic exploitation of the heavy traffic that enters a national park. It's filled with obnoxious in-your-face novelty attractions like Ripley's Believe It or Not museums, amusement parks (in this case, Dollywood), and restaurant recreations of everything from the Titanic to Medieval castles. Personally, I feel like it would make more sense for all this garbage to be in the middle of nowhere, where there is nothing to do. I mean aren't the Smokies enough entertainment for one area?
Anyway, the Smokies were really awesome as expected. As one might imagine, a thick layer of blue haze (the "smoke") dominates the park's atmosphere. Ummm, anyhow we have to go and probably lose service for now. Stay tuned.

Arrival (Nashville) (9/2/2012)

I woke up this morning disoriented. Why am I up at 8 o'clock? Then after a few seconds I remembered and realised why I had forgotten; I had been restlessly preparing til 3 in the morning for the adventure that lay ahead, my mind exhausted from all the excitement and nervousness.

I met up with Raffi at the Pavillion's parking lot, running a little late. But thanks to my mom's thrifty driving, we made it to the airport an hour before our flight left. American Airlines, charging nearly 4 dollars for a measly cookie, served as a grim reminder to eat a wholesome, hearty breakfast before a noon flight. After suffering through a nutritious can of tomato juice (which I only drank cause I heard from some fun fact that it tastes better in high altitudes) and a textbook lesson on intro differential equations, we arrived in Nashville.

Raffi's aunt, Cathy, greeted us outside the baggage claim with her warm southern presence and after we dropped our luggage off at her 'muggy' (and I hope I'm using that properly) Tennesseeian home, we were under way to Raffi's other aunt's house in the countryside. Through the partly sunny, partly rainy, humid weather we drove to the outskirts of Nashville and when we arrived, I was still only taking in the natural beauty of this place.

Raffi's other aunt lives on a 200 acre property, with a charming self-built home next to a small forest singing with cicada and crickets. I couldn't decide what was better, the company for dinner or the slow roasted bbq ribs served by the grillmaster followed by the homemade banana ice cream served with chocolate cupcakes. All I know is I was blessed with both at the same time.

Anyhow, to wrap this up, driving back to  Cathy's, I was in truly meditative state. The delicious food settling in me mixed with the smell of the damp countryside trees and occasional tobacco bar testing out its harvest gave me a taste of southern comfort. 

I now lay in bed, ready for what tomorrow's adventures have in store for us -- Knoxville and Asheville.

What?

It began with a desire to see the fall foliage of the northeast, then a fascination with the oldest and supposedly best long-distance trail in the country, the Appalachian Trail. Stretching across the spine of the Appalachian Mountains, the trail starts in Georgia and runs some 2100 miles through thirteen other states: North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire and, finally, Maine. We will be only vaguely following this trail--by car, on parkways and highways--which is for hikers and generally takes four to five months by foot; our trip will last less than three weeks. We begin by flying to Nashville, where most of my (Raffi's) extended family is from. Then, we will take off on a '92 Ford Ranger with 200,000 miles, a car my aunt has so graciously allowed us to use, and pick up the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina. Assuming we make it to Maine, we will then return to Nashville on a route we have yet to map; and, if time permits, we will go to New York City and hopefully some other places. Our planning has been meticulous--we read some websites and watched Deliverance--but as with everything, we will improvise quite often, sleeping at campgrounds or motels depending on timing and availability. So, with only the slightest inkling of what we're doing, we set sail for the mystical, smoky beauty of the Appalachians, on an exciting expedition to discover our country. Wish us luck, and we will do our best to update this blog.