Life on the Road

It's an amazing experience to wake up in the morning and be two states over from where I went to bed. I feel like we have all the benefits of travel without most of the hassles.

• We don't have to worry about lost luggage or carrying around heavy luggage.
• We keep food on the bus so if we don't like our options somewhere, we can always eat "at home" instead.
• Our cubby-style bunk-beds are soooo comfortable, and really....who needs head room when you're exploring a new city every day? It's not like we're going to read a book or something -- as soon as we roll into that bunk it's lights out until we absolutely have to leave the next day.
• We have internet, satellite TV, personal DVD players, a bathroom, a living room, a mini-kitchen, and a den....all on the bus! With 12 of us on here it's not exactly spacious, but I know families of 15 in China who's entire homes aren't this big.

and I can't believe we're already on Day 4! This is going by way to fast -- we are having so much fun together as a group. I really appreciate everyone else's perspective on each city, on particular elements within each city.

Here we are at Little Rock Central High in Arkansas:

(I'm third from the left, in the cap)

We just hit Texas, where apparently everything is bigger....Here we come San Antonio!

Oh, and just as an aside....our driver's previous tour passengers include L'il Wayne, Madonna, Lorrie Morgan, Papa Roach, and a few other celebs. Most of the people he carries are hard-core rockers, and it's legal to smoke and drink on the bus, so I think he might appreciate our good behavior and early nights. He says, "The people that get on here are adults, they do whatever they want. I just have one rule--don't die on my bus."

Time for us to get out in the town!

P.S. - Little Rock

I got so wrapped up in my discussion of racial issues that I completely forgot about my extremely unusual experience last night!

Every Sunday, wherever we are, we've tried to arrange to go to a church service....a Catholic cathedral in NYC, a Mormon temple in Salt Lake City, etc. In Little Rock, we attended the Awareness Center International's evening service. Earlier in the day I was asking about their agenda: what were they trying to make everyone aware of? Someone who had researched the organization said, "I don't know, it didn't really say on their website." I thought, "Hmmm....interesting. If I was the head of an awareness organization one of my first priorities would be to communicate what I wanted people to be aware of." Dr. Spring suggested that it might be a community center where people of all faiths can come together and worship whoever/whatever they wanted alongside each other, in an effort to promote spiritual awareness in general. Definitely not my thing, but a valid idea. "Okay," I thought, "this will be interesting."

I couldn't have worded it better. Before the night was over I found myself swaying to the lively--at times ear-piercing--music, smiling uncontrollably as this soulfull group danced and clapped in worship, watching timidly as repetitive choruses transitioned into "speaking in tongues," skeptical as the higher-ups in the church came in 20 and 40 minutes into the service -- the congregation rising to their feet as the leader entered and seated himself in his throne onstage, uncomfortable as the preacher professed reincarnation, suggested that the source of our misfortunes in life are the result of our ancestor's (or our spirit's previous body) failures, sins, and misdeeds, and concluded by instructing the congregation to "give [to the church] as if they were rich." And I found myself somewhat horrified as I was picked out of the crowd (along with 4 others) to be annointed by this "apostle."

But beyond whatever qualms I might have felt about the leadership and their possible alterior motives, I was humbled by the warm, warm welcome of the congregation and their genuine hope and joy. I must have been hugged and encouraged by at least ten people I had never met before. As we waited for their service to start, I only hoped that visitors to my home church felt as welcomed and accepted as I did by these friendly church-goers. As one girl said, "It felt so good to be hugged." I have a feeling I'll never forget this experience.

Day 2 - Little Rock

I mentioned briefly in my last blog that segregation and race relations were a major theme in Memphis. Being in Nashville, only three hours from Memphis, I was pretty aware of the fact that whites and blacks keep to themselves, but I did not realize the longstanding tradition behind segregation until we visited Little Rock yesterday. (I would have posted something about our experience there last night, but I really felt like I was still just trying to process it all.)

You may be familiar with the Little Rock Nine, especially if you're a generation or two older than mine. I might have heard the term once or twice, but I genuinely knew nothing about the Little Rock Nine or the historical significance of Little Rock before visiting Central High School yesterday. In 1957, after de-segregation was made law, nine black students enrolled at Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas. Apparently de-segregation had already been implemented in other areas of the South, but none was as outrageously protested or received as much media coverage.

My jaw literally dropped as, in the Central High School National Historic Site Museum, I watched videos of an entire mob of furious white parents and students jeering, throwing brick, physically and verbally assaulting peaceable young black students. I couldn't believe that any parent could assault the classmates of their own sons and daughters; and for simply being black? It is difficult for me to wrap my head around that. In fact, before coming to the South, I thought that tension between whites and blacks was a thing of the past. In my mind we were all on equal playing fields; I was raised by parents who had witnessed racism as young children and were outraged by it; they made sure that my brothers and sisters and I grew up to value every person for their personality and intellect, regardless of the color of their skin. In California we were surrounded by people of very diverse ethnicities, many of whom I looked up to. Racism, for me, was non-existent.

So you can guess how surprised I was to hear this next turn of events...

In 2007, fifty years after the Little Rock Nine made their first appearance at Central High, the National Park Service started a museum across from the high school. The museum, where I saw the videos, documented several eras of Civil Rights Movements...women's suffrage, Native American rights, and disability rights in addition to African-American rights. For the museum's grand opening, Central High's class of '57 was given the opportunity to pre-order the majority of the tickets, and they did--around 200 tickets were sold to the students who attended Central High the year that the Little Rock Nine came.

On the night of the grand opening, virtually none of them came. The museum can't hold much more than 200 people, so even with the other guests who had tickets the total attenders can't have numbered more than 20 or 30. Hearing this broke my heart, but it was in that moment that I realized the true implications of being socialized to hate entire races of people. Racism isn't dead in America, and the class of '57 proved it.

I think what stood out to me the most was a interview with a white woman who was friends with Minnijean, one of the Little Rock Nine. This woman, and any others who showed any sign of amity, were immediately ostractized among the white kids. They were jeered at in the halls, called "N****r-lovers " by their elitest classmates. The idea of being a good citizen in the South during that time period included "protecting the Southern identity" of white, upper class Southerners.

This is such a stark contrast to Jenni's story, a story of how she won the coveted Good Citizen Award in 4th grade. Her parents made a bigger deal of this award than any of her soccer trophies or report cards. She entered 5th grade with one goal: Defend her title of Good Citizen. To her, this meant "not being mean to anyone." How different is this from the Little Rock Nine's experience with "good citizens"?

"If you just don't say anything, you're part of the problem and not part of the solution. If all the other teenagers had been like the Little Rock Nine, they could have changed the situation."

-Minnijean Brown Trickey

Day 1 - Memphis - 23:15

"Enter the Blingdom"

-Graceland Banner

During this trip my goal is to come up with one Quote of the Day that either summed up the day or was particularly representative of an anomaly we encountered. In our sociology course we've been learning a lot about recognizing the intentional structure of buildings, design of advertising, choice in personal hairstyle, etc., and looking at what the sponsoring individual or institution might be communicating through its configuration. So how does Graceland want to be perceived when they put up a banner proclaiming: "Enter the Blingdom, Welcome to Graceland." According to Merriam Webster, "bling" wasn't even invented until 1999.

It makes sense that they would use a young, hip word to describe themselves. After all, besides our group I saw virtually no other customers in our age range. Many were over 50 or 60, and a few were in their 30-40's. Graceland makes up a great part of Memphis' tourism industry (....in fact, more people come to see Graceland than they do to see the hotel where Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated.) and tourism makes up a great part of Memphis' industry (along with Autozone, FedEx, & International Paper). If the tourism industry here is going to survive another generation, Graceland needs to rebrand itself and target a younger crowd, which they seem to have realized. I'll be interested to see how things turn out there.

On a completely different subject, I wanted to describe to you how our day started off in the wee hours of Saturday morning. But I think this video says it all:

We headed out at 10:30 to Memphis' infamous Peabody Hotel to watch the "March of the Ducks." I had been hearing all morning how so-and-so's grandparents drove 100 miles out of their way to see this legendary event; and when I learned that the ducks at the Peabody had their own private elevator (to get from their "Duck Palace" on the roof to the 1st floor fountain) I excitedly anticipated a huge flock of ducks to half-waddle half-fly down the red carpet--literally, the ducks had their own red carpet--to their fountain paradise in the middle of the hotel lobby......something similar to the Running of the Bulls in Spain. But I found the ceremony to be anti-climactic, to say the least. The Duck Master made it very obvious (by his dress, choice of words, and mannerisms) that the main purpose of this slightly odd tradition is to bring people into the hotel and into the downtown area where the throngs will gather daily at 11am and 5pm for 45 seconds to watch 5 ducks sprint down a 30 foot runway/red carpet and into a shallow fountain, and then go on to spend money at the hotel and surrounding businesses (which are not currently thriving; they seem to be barely surviving).

At 2:30 we headed over to Graceland for an audio-guided tour. I wasn't particularly enthralled to visit this universal wedding destination; and I have to admit that I haven't actually listened to an entire Elvis hit, but I will say that I enjoyed the tour more than I thought I would. The tour actually lead us through his home, which remains decorated as he had it at the time of his death. I must say it was quite ridiculous. One thing that really stood out to me was how much of his life was lived out in performance mode. Apparently Elvis accepted visitors everywhere accept upstairs. Lisa Marie says in the audio guide that he would not descend the staircase without "jingling" because of all the jewels he would have on. In other words, Elvis didn't come downstairs--in his own house--unless he was completely made up. His only privacy consisted of a few rooms upstairs.

It's hard to feel sorry for the guy, though, because he decorated his home with mirrors everywhere; there were several in almost every room, and in more than one room the ceiling and parts of the walls were masked in mirrors. This guy liked to look at himself. Perhaps he enjoyed being in performance mode. Or perhaps he was too scared to get out of that mode and face reality? It makes you wonder.

We wrapped up the night with a driving tour of several Memphis neighborhoods and observed the ever-present black and white neighborhood segregation, something I've never experienced before in America.

It is wayyy too late right now to try to sociologically analyze any of this, so we'll give it another try tomorrow. And on your next trip to Memphis, don't forget to visit Elvis' home and grave, and enter the blingdom.

Day 1 - Memphis - 08:15

I don't think I've been this awake and excited for something at 2am in a long time. We boarded the bus this morning at 4am and pulled out at 5. Most everybody, like me, finished packing after 11:30pm last night and so either got 3 hours of sleep or none at all. So we all found our bunks pretty quickly and tried to fall asleep to the hum of the many bus wheels on pavement and other assorted road noises. Our driver, Reuben, (he'll be in one of the pictures coming up here) warned that it might take up to two weeks to get accustomed to sleeping on the bus. Not me! My little cubby-hole bunk is pretty comfy!

We just pulled off the interstate - possibly for a bathroom break? Not quite sure where we are; I'm one of only a few that are awake. I've never been to Memphis and don't know much about it--only that Forbes ranks it as the #2 most dangerous country in America, following Detroit (which we will be visiting shortly as well).

It looks like we're picking up the smaller rental van for that we will be using to get around the city. It's time to get ready to go! More on Memphis after we visit.

On Packing Light

He who would travel happily must travel light.
-Antoine de Saint Exupéry

It was my first trip to Paris. Paris: City of Lights; fashion capital of the World; Renaissance headquarters in north-western Europe; icon of romance; epitome of haute couture (i.e. style police).....there was no question about it--I simply had to look fabulous at every moment. This meant taking along my entire wardrobe plus all the beautification accessories in my possession: makeup, jewelry, lotion, manicure set with polish remover and seven different colors of polish, curl enhancer, blow dryer, three hair brushes, hair straightener and curler, dangly earrings, perfume in four scents, sunscreen, flowery deoderant, hairspray, belts, purses, eleven pairs of sunglasses, and of course, shoes!

I spent hours painstakingly designing the most fashionable day and evening-wear outfits I could think of, with matching accessories, for each of the six days I would spend in Paris. I carefully organized and laid out all these belongings--unquestionably vital to my survival--on my bed before stowing them in my suitcase. I paused for a moment to consider possibly taking a few things out, after all, I would have to carry my luggage down three flights of narrow stairs before even reaching my front door. But no, I couldn't bear the possibility of leaving behind anything that might be of some use while walking the streets of France's most important city. No matter what I had to do, I was going to make sure that I looked my best as I nibbled baguettes in high-end cafés and strolled the legendary Champs Elysées.

Four hours later, after trekking through the streets of downtown Brussels--changing busses and trams to get to the train station, lugging the 50+ pound suitcase on and off of a greyhound-style bus, I found myself looking at a map of the Paris metro system. I was going to need to change lines exactly three times before emerging onto the streets of downtown Paris from a station 3/4 mile from my hostel. "No problem," I thought. I used the Brussels metro practically every day; changing lines seldom required more than walking across the platform from one train to another.

This wasn't, unfortunately, the case in Paris, as I would soon find out. Changing lines in the Paris metro requires clamoring up and down at least seven sets of stairs situated periodically throughout tunnels of up to 1/2 mile long. Remember that this entire time I am stuck carrying an enormous purse (what my brothers call "the bowling bag" because I could easily fit three or four bowling balls inside with plenty of room leftover for shoes) and a 50-pound, awkwardly shaped suitcase. I arrived at the hostel an hour later, extremely exhausted and somewhat embarrassed, only to be told that my room was on the fifth floor and there was no elevator. All of these belongings that had seemed so necessary just a few hours earlier now felt like a death sentence.

To say the least, I learned my lesson. I vowed that I would never again pack more than the bare minimum. I still struggle with shoes, but I have dramatically cut down on the things I "need" to go anywhere.

Today I'm packing for 40 days. We get to do laundry once a week, so I'm taking 10 outfits. I'd say that's sensible!

PS: My efforts were not in vain, I was one of the most stylish of my group all week in Paris! :)

One week to go....

d40 States in 40 Days officially started today, although the bus won't actually be leaving until Saturday morning (at 4am....eek!) We are all extremely excited and just can't wait to get on the road. We've spent so much time researching and scheduling great activities in each state -- the time has just flown by and it's hard to believe that we're so close to lift-off.

I'm sorry I've been out of touch the past few weeks.....but here's what I've been up to:
My spring semester finals finished May 12th. I was completely moved out of my on-campus apartment (and moved in with some great friends for the summer) by the 14th, and on a plane to Oregon on the morning of the 16th. Talk about a crazy week! My mom had no idea I was coming; in fact she didn't think she'd get to see me until Christmas, so it was great fun just popping up at church on Sunday morning to scare her half to death. (Quick shout-out: today is her birthday ...Happy Birthday Mommy!)

I got to spend 10 wonderful days with all my little siblings (who aren't really that little anymore...Chase and Jared passed me up long ago, and on this visit I discovered that Cole followed suit and Tori is only a half inch away! At least little Raam is still little for the time being.)
Tori plays on the U-12 Premier Soccer Team (the really competitive traveling team) and happened to be playing in the local Rogue Valley Cup last weekend, so I had the pleasure of watching her win all five of her games and take the 1st place trophy. Way to go chica!

The last 6 months have been especially hard for me to be away from my brothers and sister; every visit home is a reminder of how fast they're growing up. I can't believe Chason and Jared are already out of high school and halfway through college. Of course, they followed in my footsteps and left high school in their Sophomore and Freshmen years, respectively. But still, time just goes by so fast! So it was great to just hang out with all of them for the week.

Now I'm back in Nashville and busy as ever! In fact, I've gotta run....I have an appointment in 15.

In case you're curious what our course material looks like for the trip, here's a glimpse of our highly confidential reading list:

• The Declaration of Independence
  
• Democracy in America (Alexis de Tocqueville)
• Assassination Vacation (Sarah Vowell)
• Thirteen American Arguments (Howard Fineman)
• I'm a Stranger Here Myself (Bill Bryson)
• On the Road (Jack Kerouac)
• Selected Poems 1885-1892 (Walt Whitman)

....and various articles. So you can see we're going to be busy! In addition to all this reading, we'll write an essay on what it means to be a "Patriotic American Citizen," an essay telling a story from our trip that has the power to change America for the better, as well as a longer research essay on each of our host sites. As I mentioned before, I'm doing in-depth research on the Pacific Northwest, the Grand Canyon, and Boston....so if you have any tidbits of information (or even just childhood memories) of any of these places, please share!
The only stipulation: you must be American :)

Even if you're not American, I'd love to hear your stories anyways....I just can't use them as part of my research.

It's a balmy eve here in Nashville, I hope your neck of the woods is just as beautiful!