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Less than a week into the trip, we’re already losing track of the date and the day of the week. The first five days were such a whirlwind that we’ve decided that we most certainly need to chill out a bit or we’d never have the stamina or sanity to make it 7 or 8 months or however long we’ve got in front of us. We’ve seen so much that any more than a quick synopsis would bore y’all to death. But before I get started let me first recount two quick stories.
Story 1: The cat is dead. . . . End of story.
Story 2:
I asked the gas station clerk, “Is that a deer’s leg in the parking lot?”
“Probably,” she answers without looking up from her crossword.
“Any idea how it might have got there?” I was curious.
“Somebody shot it and left the remains out back. A dog or somethin’ dragged the leg out front, I reckon.”
“Oh.” What else could I say really? These kinda things must happen more than you’d guess in Virginia.
But not everything has been as gruesome. We started off the trip with a lovely visit with Lucy
and Maverick, exploring Charlottesville and eating scrumptious tapas at Mas. (We really ought to try to work this blog thing so that we get a couple of free meals/resort stays from our kind recommendations.)
After a few drinks, good laughs, and a marvelous night’s rest in what has got to be the best bed that we’ll sleep in all trip, we said our goodbyes and headed north through the Shenandoah National Park where we did a little hiking and communing with nature. And lucky us! We saw several deer and a baby black bear too. We named her Ruby. Maybe she was the rascal who was distributing deer parts around the gas pumps.
The next day was filled with beautiful drives through the rolling farmland of Virginia and Pennsylvania. We’ve decided to avoid the interstates if at all possible because (a) you miss so many of the cute little villages and pretty scenery on the interstate, and (b) our little Subaru just can’t keep up with all the younger cars anymore. We also have been getting our fair share of American history. Unfortunately, I never paid nearly enough attention in American history classes, so I don’t really know
why what we saw was important historically speaking, but the historic towns are kept really pretty, and frankly that’s reason enough to visit. So far, we’ve walked through the steep narrow streets of Harpers Ferry and visited the graveyard at Gettysburg. Our friend Veronika, a recent graduate of history, informed us before we left that the Battle of Gettysburg was actually begun due to some mistimed shoe shopping by the confederate and yankee troops. And I thought fighting wars over religion and power was stupid enough. Go figure.
The next morning we made a quick visit through Amish country where Paul was trigger happy with his camera. Unfortunately we didn’t realize until after we left town that the Amish really frown on photographs. And even though we’re sharing some of our favorite pics with y’all, it doesn’t mean that we aren’t sorry.
The afternoon was spent at the Yuengling Brewery in Pottsville, PA. Yuengling is our favorite East Coast beers and also the oldest continuously run brewery in the U.S. We even got to visit the caves below the brewery where they hid their beer during Prohibition. If you’re ever in the area, I highly recommend the tour,
and heck, if you’re ever in the Mid-Atlantic states, I highly recommend the beer. (Yuengling, please contact us for the address to send the free beer!)
That night we were pleasantly surprised by Easton, PA where Crayola has an over-priced museum that we decided to pass on. We did enjoy the gift shop, however, where you get to custom select your very own tin of crayons. One little girl was filling hers only with all the various shades of pink (I thought of you, Monica). We opted for more of an assortment, and thanks to our helpful new friend who volunteers at the store in exchange for free crayons we were able to get our hands on a coveted blue crayon despite the hording of one very uptight school teacher who purchased every last one of them (over 200) for her students. Perhaps she forgot the importance of sharing. I’m sure her students could teach her a thing or two . . . Later that night we made another new friend over pizza. I’m pretty sure he was with the mob. He didn’t smile much and looked very goodfellaish. Or maybe it was just my ear adjusting to the
Jersey accent.
Next stop NYC. Paul and I have both been to New York before, but I’d never made it to Coney Island and I wasn’t leaving the East Coast until I had ridden on the Cyclone and seen the freak show. So that’s exactly what we did.
The Cyclone is consistently ranked as one of the country’s top ten roller coasters. It’s an old wooden contraption that is exceptionally tight and steep because of the small space that was available at the shore. According to its website, “in the period since it first opened on June 26, 1927, the Cyclone has emerged as the outdoor amusement industry's most famous, most influential, and most copied individual ride”. The website failed to mention, however, that it would beat the bejesus out of me and having me praying to the good lord that a rusted bolt wouldn’t pop loose sending me hurling onto the Long Island beachfront. It was good!
The Coney Island Sideshow by the Seashore was also a treat as sexy women with high heels and tattooed faces swallowed swords, breathed fire, and charmed albino pythons. Unfortunately, flash photography was prohibited for the safety of the performers,
so you’ll just have to imagine for yourself. After the guilt of snapping pics of the Amish, we weren’t going to have any tragic sideshow mishaps riding on our consciences.
After a restful night in an Econolodge next to the Newark Airport, we headed off to the Jersey shore to catch a ferry to see Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. For any of you hoping to visit this part of the world anytime soon, do yourselves a favor, skip the Battery Park/Manhattan ferry that most tourists go for and catch the ferry from Jersey—much, much less waiting in line. The price you pay for this luxury, unfortunately involves sharing a ferry with hundreds of screaming, chubby school kids on a sugar high. The $11.50 fare on a crap ferry with a serious list and a bunch of screaming kids was all the more difficult to stomach when we learned that there is a service bridge to the island which is less than a quarter of a mile long and thus, quite easily walkable. Nonetheless we survived the trip.
We joined a free tour by a retired school teacher who made me remember why I used to
love America so much and were able to picture ourselves as recent immigrants landing in the U.S., fearful of the men in uniform and hoping to god that they wouldn’t send us packing back to our homelands. For some of us (i.e. Paul), it was easier to imagine than for others.
From New Jersey, we made for New England on Highway 1. Little did we know that this would entail dodging and swerving around double and triple parked vehicles, reckless drivers making illegal left hand turns, and pedestrians with a death wish as we worked our way through the heart of the Bronx in late afternoon traffic. It made Paul wax nostalgic about driving in Nairobi, and it made me wish that Paul would shut the heck up.
Then suddenly we crested the top of a hill and everything changed in an instant. Third world chaos became Ralph Lauren tranquility in a blink of an eye. I wish that I could say that I preferred the former, but after two and a half hours of New Jersey and New York madness in the streets, I sighed very deeply and smiled.
In some ways, this marked a turning
point in our journey. It’s as if up to this point we had forgotten that we were on vacation, and we just now finally grasped the idea. Everything just seemed to slow down for us as we winded along Highway 1 through Connecticut and Rhode Island stopping for ice creams, kitschy boutiques and a historic site or two. The highlight for this 80s kid was the surprise of stumbling across a little town called Mystic with a little pizzeria made famous by Julia Roberts. We stopped to explore the shops and the pretty old houses and the cute little drawbridge. But mostly we stopped to partake in a little Mystic Pizza.
Now in Rhode Island, we’re looking forward to some more peaceful days wandering around Cape Cod, seeing the sights in Boston, and spotting a witch or two in Old Salem. If nothing else we can eat some clam chowder and pretend we’re smarties strolling around the Harvard campus.
From there it’s off to Niagara Falls where I’m fixin’ to find myself a barrel. WHEEEEEEE!!!
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Veronika
non-member comment
Your Own Personal Historian
I'm honored that you listened to my historical ramblings. This proves to me now that my silly knowledge can go a long way. Yea for UNCG graduates! Also I'm glad you survived the crazy drivers of New Jersey and New York (my father being one of them!) If you can survive that driving, you can survive anything, promise! For another fun historical fact, the Salem witch trials was one of the last trials in the witch craze of 1500-1700. It was one of the smallest and few in America, but seems almost insignificant when you see what happened in European countries such as England, France, Spain and worst of all Germany. Also, the trials were located in a town a little ways from "Old Salem" but most tourist don't know that. Enjoy your trips, and I hope to provide you with a number of more interesting facts about the locations you will be going.