Day 14. Mile 3300. Trinidad, CO.

The goal for this day was to cross the Rocky Mountains. Pretty soon after I left Denver, I started hitting snow. After a couple of hours it was getting pretty rough. In fact, I almost lost control over the truck at one point.

I’ve got plenty of these irresponsibly-taken-while-driving photos of the storm, if by chance you need any.

I pulled over in the small town of Georgetown for some food and rest. I got into a little coffee shop and ordered some food. The lady at the counter asked me where I was coming from, and when I said “Boston” her face took a strange expression, as she pointed to the television. This is how I learned about the twin explosion in the marathon. I immediately started to scan the social networks to learn that all my friends in Boston are probably safe. I thought to myself that it’s strange how just the day before it was memorial day in Israel, when we remember not only our soldiers who die in battle, but also the victims of terror attacks. Just the day before, I thought to myself, I was a little sad to be removed my friends as we remember our dead. And now it’s almost like it’s chasing me here, thousands of miles away. I won’t go any deeper here, but I’m sure you can imagine at least some of my feelings.

Then came in this young man and said that he heard that I-70 west, the road I was taking, has been closed. They people in the coffee shop advised me to take a room in Georgetown for the night. The weather, however, was not supposed to get any better in the next few days, and I have a truck to return. Everybody said that the weather was coming from the west. I’m not sure that’s proper grammar, saying that “the weather is coming from the west”. The storm, the winds, the cold front - these might be coming from the west, but the weather? I always thought that the weather is something that just always exists around us. If the weather is coming from the west, what is here now? another weather? or maybe there is no weather here right now, and were just waiting for some to come from the west?

- “Well, it might not end tonight, right? I might be stuck here for a few days!”

- “Yeah, you might.” said the lady at the counter

- “What is there to do here, if I stay?”

- “Get drunk every night!” said the only other costumer. “That’s what we do.”

After giving it a lot of thought, I decided not to stay. I don’t have time for this. I decided to go back to Denver, and then go south, through Albuquerque, and then go straight west. It was hard getting back down form the mountain, although not as hard as going up. I passed little pieces of weather that were just not moving east fast enough, and finally made it back to Denver.

Then I headed south on the I-25, towards Albuquerque. The view changed pretty abruptly, and the weather too - it was still very windy, but now instead of snow I was getting sand. 

I passed this impressive little mountain:

Which is much more impressive in real life. This is  Huerfano Butte, A remnant of an ancient volcano, according to Wikipedia, and an important marker in New Mexico settlement, according to a nearby sign.

Eventually, I got to the town of Trinidad, CO, I got a room in the Trinidad Motor Inn, run by a Chinese dude who apparently studies the Talmud in his free time. After driving around I finally found the only place to eat in town that is open after 9PM - Fabilis Wings. The owner, a huge, warm Hispanic woman in her mid-forties, was talking to a young couple who was attending their three daughters: “Your baby reminds me of my granddaughter!” Yep, moving south alright.

I had a pizza and went to the only open bar in town. Trinidad, the bartender said, has a population of about 11,000. All the other bars are closed because the police is giving bars and costumers a hard time, since they attract a lot of violence.

- “what kind of violence?” I asked.

- “anything, even gunfights. A guy was shot dead last year right there.” she pointed to a spot just next to the door.

- “Gunfights over what?”

- “Drug money, mostly.”

I found that fascinating - a town of 11,000 is self-sufficient enough to have its own drug wars. I stopped drinking after one beer, because I didn’t want any trouble with the police myself, and went back to the motel.

Day 13, Mile 3000. Denver, CO.

We had a sharp deadline, which was getting Julia to the airport on time. Our first stop was for lunch at South Side Food and Drink in Limon, CO. It’s a small, southern-style diner. We even had three cowboys sitting a few tables away from us. Well, at least they had the hats.

We then drove by a sign for the town of Bovina, and we noticed it’s not on the map. We decided to check it out. Guess what? There’s a reason it’s not on the map:

Chubbuck’s Six States Museum and Wonder Tower, however, was on the map. It also had a bunch of signs directing to it:

There was no one there. We wanted to go to the bathroom, so we looked for the restrooms in the back. Ladies room is on the right. Gentlemen to the left.

We found a small note saying that the place if for sale! I wonder how much it goes for.

We decided to talk about it later and in the meantime make a list of the pros and cons of owning museum of stones and bottles in the middle of nowhere.

Then we got to Denver. We started by getting coffee in a cute coffee shop. It was full of hipsterish students working hard on their laptops. We went online on our phones. I realized then that it was the Israeli memorial day. We commemorate memorial day very differently, in Israel, than they do in the states. Let’s put it this way - we don’t barbecue.  

I was thrown off - first, I realized I forgot, which made me realize how far I am from Israel, physically and mentally. Second, I noticed on Facebook that someone mentioned a young woman who was killed in a terrorist attack about ten years ago. It seems she used to serve in my by base, at the same time I did, and I don’t remember her at all. We were a tiny base, maybe 200 soldiers. I knew everybody - everybody did. I must have known her and forgotten all about her. I’m still not sure I know who she was - after really trying, I think I do have a faint memory of her. I don’t know exactly why this feels weird. Anyway, Danit Dagan was her name. RIP.

We decided we had enough time before the flight - so we went to the Red Rocks. It was beautiful, and we got to see only very little of it. We must come back at some point.

We went to the airport, and discovered that Julia’s flight was delayed. I hung out with her in the Airport, and we had dinner and drinks and then we walked around and stared at the very disturbing murals.

I then left and got a room at a Motel 6. Here are some tips:

1. The sign outside a Motel 6 might say “Wi-Fi here”. Notice that it doesn’t include the word “Free”. There’s a reason for that.

2. If the receptionist will notice even the slightest sign of discontent, she will give you the Wi-Fi password for free. Let your inner Israeli shine!

3. The Wi-Fi password is per device. If you have two computers and your inner Israeli is on a day off, you’ll have to pay double.

4. Almost anywhere there’s a Motel 6, there’s also a Super 8. Super 8 gives free Wi-Fi for as many devices as you want and they have free breakfast. Motel 6 don’t. Just sayin’.

5. Personally, I prefer going for privately held motels. I believe it’s better for the economy.

Day 12. Mile 2600. Oakley, KS.

So we went to the Underground Salt Museum. Now that I have your attention, let’s start at the top:

We started driving north, and near Yoder we could not ignore the sign to the Underground Salt Museum. First we stopped for brunch at the Carriage Crossing Restaurant and Bakery. When Julia noticed me staring at the waitresses she said “I know what you’re thinking - they all look the same”. Actually, I was thinking that the Amish waitress was pretty hot. Now, I want to clarify - of course, I like looking at pretty women, but more than that I enjoy all those little funny thoughts. For example, there’s nothing more cheesy than a hot Amish waitress, is there? There are music videos directors that built their entire career on them. I wonder if she actually does go home after a shift, listen to Aerosmith in her headphones as she lets her hair down, in slow motion, of course. I had more of these thoughts, but they were cut off when Chris Griffin, the Family Guy kid showed up and started cleaning the tables.

We had our brunch and moved on to the Underground Salt Museum, one of Kansas’s eight wonders (!!). Sarcastic, parenthesized exclamation marks aside - the museum is pretty cool. Over 600 ft. underground, it shows you around the salt mines. This salt is mostly used to clear snow off the roads.

Because of the dry, stable climate in the mine, they use the mines also as storage area, for anything from documents to film sets and costumes. This is one of 20 “Agent Smiths” used in the final battle scene of the 3rd Matrix movie:

We also took “the dark ride”, a cool, slow ride around the mines with a funny guide: “To your left, you’ll notice a wooden stand with a fire extinguisher. Salt is not flammable, but you know what is? wooden stands with fire extinguishers on them”.

We then drove on. We stopped by the Barbed Wire Museum in La Crosse, KS. It was closed, but there was some interesting art outside:

With one Kansas wonder down and seven more to go (but they will have to wait) we drove on, but we made the classic mistake of driving too late with too little gas and too far from civilization. We were getting a little nervous. Finally we found a gas station that I believe was actually a left-behind set from a David Lynch movie: surrounded by complete darkness, with the single light, the rattling flag post in the strong wind… the works.

We stopped for the night in stinky Oakley, KS, and I say that not because it’s a bad town. I say that just because it smells really bad. 

Day 11. Mile 2200. Guthrie, OK

During my daily morning routine of trying to recall who I am, where I am, how I got here and what the hell am I supposed to do now, I realized that I  am in Booneville, Arkansas, staying in a motel that I destroyed the night before with a rented truck. I went to to the reception and found the owner’s wife, aka “the tiny witch of the south”. I apologized again, and she seemed more placated. I checked out and got a terrible, southern-cooking-style brunch. The food down here is terrible - not only that it’s tasteless, it doesn’t even pretend to be nutritious. Every time I see a southern-American that looks past the age of 35 I feel like I’m witnessing a miracle.

I started driving, and after I crossed the border to Oklahoma, I stopped at a visitor’s center. They told me that the best activity for the time that I have is to visit Sequoyah’s Cabin.

Sequoyah was a fascinating character - a Cherokee Indian that invented  a transcription for the Cherokee language. They have his cabin intact, and they surrounded it, what do you know, by another cabin. So you go into this stone cabin, walk through the door, and inside, you’re looking at   wooden cabin. That’s where Sequoyah lived. There are some artifacts and explanations about his life and his work. I was particularly intrigued by this Cherokee typewriter:

I left and started driving towards Oklahoma City to pick Julia, who was about to join me for the weekend, from the airport. 

I saw a lot of dead animals on the road. In fact, I’ve been seeing a lot of run-over animals.  I saw dogs, cats, squirrels,  raccoon, and I think I even saw one deer. There are plenty others that I didn’t recognize. I was told that some might be prairie dogs, but I wouldn’t know, I’ve never seen one. I also saw several armadillos. armadillos are never run-over, though. they’re broken.

I got to Oklahoma city, but I had plenty of time, so I drove some more and got to El-Reno. I got dinner at Johnnie’s Grill.

OK, let’s not call it dinner, but I did have an onion-burger or something .

OK, let’s call it “something”.

I left, going back to Oklahoma City. I stopped at some Mexican restaurant to get a beer and try to forget what I just ate. I sat alone at a table. drinking a bottle of beer, surrounded by fat families eating tacos. I left and found a real bar right at the entrance to Oklahoma City. I got another beer, and when it was time, I drove to the airport and picked up Julia. We drove north, and stopped at Guthrie, OK, where we were very lucky to find a motel that had an open office around midnight. 

Day 10. Mile 1900. Booneville, AR

Finally, I was in Arkansas. Arkansas became a big deal in this trip, only because before I started, I said to Julia that I want to go through places that I will never have a good reason to go to, like Arkansas. So Julia told this to her friends, who then sent me long lists of stuff that I should do in Arkansas.

The best truck song in the radio these days is a sad one, it is about unfaithfulness:

That ain’t my truck in her drive

Man, this ain’t my day tonight

Looks like she’s in love and I’m out of luck

That ain’t my shadow on her wall

Lord, this don’t look good at all

That’s my girl, my whole world

But that ain’t my truck

I feel you, my fellow trucker. Anyway, my first stop was for lunch at Nick’s Bar-B-Q & Catfish, in Carlisle. This marked my entrance in to the world of terrible southern food. I had a fried catfish - tasteless, greasy things. 

I drove through some small roads and hit a bunch of tiny towns.

Then I got to Little Rock. I followed the signs to the River Market, to discover a depressing, almost deserted food court. I drove on and found a visitor center. They sent me to the state Capitol, which comes down to being this building:

In my list I also had the Central High School. Now that was interesting: back in 1957, when segregation in schools was outlawed, nine black kids were denied entrance to the school and face an angry mob that went as far as threatening their lives. The police had to interfere, then the national guard, and then the Army’s 101st Airborne Division. Fun times.

I drove on to Caulksville, to find Shane’s Restaurant, that Becky, Julia’s friend, put on my list. Outside there were some sculptures of ducks.

After a minute, the group on the right started walking. The group on the left continued to be sculptures. Must be a weird feeling for the group of real ducks.

I ordered exactly what Becky told me to: Chicken fried steak and a side of onion rings. It’s just as horrible as it looks:  

That white thing is gravy - a creamy, salty, meaty sauce. Buried underneath the left pond of gravy is a fried chicken steak which is not much of a steak, does not taste like chicken, but it sure is fried. The gravy on the right side of the plate hides, both in vision and in taste, some mashed potatoes.

I finished eating and drove away. I felt really bad, and wanted to find a motel room to die in as fast as possible. I got to Bonneville and found a motel, but - and maybe because I was so concentrated in feeling bad from the food - I forgot I was driving a truck. I drove it into the driveway ignoring the low roof. The roof was exactly the height of the truck, and I gave it a nice scratch.

The owner, chubby Indian guy, came running out. After releasing the truck we went to the office and stared at each other. His wife, ugly little witch, was staring at him. He asked if I wanted a room, and asked for $45 and $20 for the damage. The wife was furious. I said - “hey, that must be more than $20 of damage. How about you take a hundred for the whole thing?” He shook my hand thankfully, as if I wasn’t  the one who just broke his motel. The wife was turning red. We went outside and looked at the damage, and we saw that it’s not that bad. “You’re biggest problem”, I told him, “is her”.

How could I forget I was driving a truck? who am I kidding? I’m not a real truck driver. I don’t even own this thing, it’s rented! for just two weeks! It’s time I faced it - that ain’t my truck.

Day 9. Mile 1600. Forrest City, AR.

After getting a decent breakfast at diner just across the street from the motel in Nashville, I started driving towards Memphis. About half an hour after entering Tennessee I took an exit to a gas station to take leak, but got distracted by a sign to the Hidden Lake. That sounded like a much better place to pee than in than a gas station. I started walking.

.

I like hiking. It makes me feel very primal. I saw a bird that was mostly blue, and I thought - I shall call it “Bluebird”! then I saw one that was completely red and I named it “Redbird”, but somehow it didn’t feel right.

I thought I found the Lake.

But that wasn’t it. I walked some more. Ah, that’s more like it.

Then I walked all the way around. This is from the opposite side:

It seemed like I was supposed to keep going around if I wanted to get back. So where the hell was I?

Then I saw this old ruined building, and this old man wandering around.

I entered the building, guessed where the bathroom used to be and peed there. I then talked to the old man and learned that the nearest town is Pegram, and that there is plenty of wild life around, like deer and snakes. There were 4 deer in his backyard just this morning. This never happened to me, I said. Deer are a very rare sight in your backyard in Paris. Or Boston. Or even Yavne. a Minute later, I saw a deer. Such a majestic animal.

I Left the hidden lake and continued to drive to Memphis, not before stopping in Pegram for fuel and to see this on a back of a car:

I finally got to Memphis and drove to Graceland. There’s nothing to see from the road. I just drove on and got to the 2nd street, where there are plenty of bars and music.

I had a couple of beers in two street show, and decided I had enough.

I decided to move on. There was a storm coming, so I just drove a little further until I hit Forrest City, AR. I got a room in a Super 8 Motel, and  went to get dinner just a a few blocks from there, at Pop’s place.

Bact at the motel I noticed the desktop computer in the lobby that had three A4 signs around it that said “Absolutely no one under 18 near this computer”. If it was up to me, no one under 18 would be near anything at all.

Day 8. Mile 1300. Nashville, TN

I woke up in Kenova, and it took me a few minutes to recall how that happened. Then I checked out from my room. Did you know that more than half of the motels in the US are owned by Indians? The ones from India, not the other ones.

I started driving into Kentucky. The landscape changed as soon as I crossed the border. I was now driving through farms, endless green fields and many, many cows. They were walking around freely and happily, just waiting for their day to partake in Wendy’s glorious enterprise.

Then I saw a sign on a fence of one farm that said “used cows”. This made me quite upset. I mean, that’s not very specific, is it? If it says “used car” or “used toothbrush”, I have a very good sense of what that means. A cow, on the other hand, can be used in a variety of ways - was it milked? maybe they harnessed a plow to it?  I don’t think I should be forced to stop the car, back into the driveway, look for the farm owner and start asking questions that make me look like a maniac just to find out that the cow has been used in fashions that prevent me from making use of it in the future.

But it’s really pretty, and green, and wide open. 

Then I found myself in Paris, KY. It’s a cute little town. I stopped for lunch at the Grey Goose. The manager told me that the whole area is home to cattle and horse breeding businesses, and many important horse races are taking place, one of the biggest ones at that very moment. 

I left Paris, again (ha ha) and drove on to Nashville. I got a room at the Savoy Motel and left to the city, to get food and beer and music.

Parking my truck was not easy, but then came Walter. tall, black, very nicely dressed young man who jumped in front of the truck and spent long, long minutes helping me to get the truck parked right. When I got out of the truck came the story - he’s a veteran, his wife is giving birth as we speak in the next town, he can’t get there since his car is in the parking and he’s eleven dollars and 72 cents short. And he was crying.

You know those times when you know you’re being fucked but you feel like it’s just your destiny?

Oh, you don’t. Well, I do. I gave him the money. Well, he did help me with parking, and if he made that story up - he was a very good writer, actor and producer. They should start giving awards to hustlers. I nominate Walter.

Then I saw five middle-aged women holding their out-of-control friend to the ground. a few feet from there, another one smashed her own head into the streetlight pole. Ah, America, I missed you

Then I went to Broadway street, which as I later discovered is also referred to as “Honky Tonk Row”. This is where the best shows are in Nashville.

All the bars have free music shows. At some point one of the band member will come down to the audience with a bucket and ask for tips. Taking the word of one of the performers, this is how they actually make their living.

I spent the rest of the night hopping around five or six clubs, getting beer and listening to some really good bands. I might have even slipped a “amen” or a “yeehaw” every now and then.

Day 7. Mile 950. West Virginia, border of Kentucky

I mostly drove all day, with no adventures at all. I did start getting used to driving a truck, and realized, naturally, that a truck is not just a vehicle, but rather a way of life. So I scanned the radio from some country music, so I can listen to the same music my fellow truck-drivers listen to.

Country songs are either about the small town - memories, friends, family; about the wife, which was usually met back then, in the small town; and trucks. Every song I had listened to had a truck in it. Well, I understand their jealousy. After all, I was once one of them, Until I chose the way of life of the truck driver.

Trucks songs are amusing, I have to admit - this is one of the biggest hits these days among us, truck drivers:

Where there’s biscuits, grits and gravy and the waitress calls you baby

And the starlight’s like a streetlight on a summer night.

We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y’all come back again

And pray that our boys come home alive

And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts

Where there’s more trucks than cars.

What else can I say, other than “yeehaw”? well, I could say “hell ya”, I guess.

Otherwise, I’m starting to like country music. 

I drove all day until I hit Kenova, WV. There’s nothing in Kenova besides Kenovians. There’s a small, cheesy Mexican restaurant where I sat to get dinner.

I ordered the “dinner special” without reading further and got two giant plates with one of every possible Mexican food. I ate most of it anyway and went to bed in the Kenova’s world famous “Hollywood Motel”. Y’all come back again, ok?

Day 6. Mile 600. West Virginia

We woke up slowly in the Edison Motor Inn in Edison, NJ, and went to get breakfast in - that’s right - the Edison Diner. We were eating slowly because we were supposed to meet up with a couple of friends, Dan and Lyla, as they were driving along the same route in other direction, and we have been discussing this random meetup for a few days. When we felt like they were getting closer we started driving towards them, but since neither of them carries a smartphone, or even a map, they could not tell us where they were. We gave up the idea and continued driving towards Maryland.

We got to Baltimore, where Julia’s sister, her fiancé, and their dog live. We got all our remaining stuff there - this time it was the real deal with the heavy boxes, our bikes and stuff. When we were done we still had the truck pretty empty, which made me happy, because I don’t like the feeling of having a lot of things. I had a lot of things before I left for the states, and now I’m much happier, at least about this part. and some other parts. anyway, this is not what I want to talk about right now.

The in-laws (see what I did there?) made us some pizza, and by the time we were done it was time to drop Julia at the airport. 

From the airport I just started driving into West Virginia. When it was dark and I decided to find a place to stay I was already too deep into the  Virginianess of America - there was nothing around. not even gas stations, and I was running low on gas with a truck on top of a fucking mountain. 

I found gas eventually. An hour later - a motel with no vacancies. Half an hour later - a motel with an old lady with only one room left. Do they have wi-fi though? “have what?”

Internet? In-ter-net?

"Son, I don’t understand what your saying!"

Have a good night, Ma’am.

The last motel was closed - it was already 11. I realized that it’s too late now for the small motels to have someone at the desk - I need to head to a bigger town. The map (yes, map. there’s no reception in WV) took me to Keyser, WV, where I got a room in a Mircrotel - kind a fancy Super 8.

Day 5. Mile 280. Edison, NJ

Julia flew in from SF to start driving with me, and it was really great seeing her after two months of doing the long distance relationship thing. She got  to Boston earlier than expected, so we got some breakfast at Lyndell’s, the coffee shop next to our old home, where the sandwiches are great and staff is retarded and went to get our truck.

Everything went extremely smooth. After getting the truck we went to my host Andy’s apartment and got my bags. from there we went to our old apartment to “steal” our stuff which we hid in the basement. I made duplicate keys before leaving Boston, so there was no problem getting in. Just in case, we let one of the neighbors know what we’re up to, so in case we get caught we can say they let us in.

I forgot how much useful stuff we had there - our bed, an art table, my keyboard stand… we got everything pretty quickly and started driving towards New York.

We got distracted by a sign to the “Hill Stead Museum” in Farmington, CT. It was the residence of the rich Pope family in the early 1900s. Today it’s an art museum with mostly French impressionistic art, which we didn’t get to see, because you have to join the one-hour-tour, and we were impatient. We walked around the grounds, which are pretty nice.

Tip: If you want to watch the art without being on the tour - there’s an “open house” every first Sunday of the month. Just keep that in mind next time you’re in Farmington, CT.

We moved on and got distracted again by a sign for the “Carousel Museum” in Bristol, CT. Now that we had to see.

For $6 you get a guided tour in the awesome museum, where you get to learn all about the history and mechanics of carousels. Mostly, you learn about the horses and other animals - carving styles and methods, and plenty of stories and anecdotes:

Do you know what the glue for these horses was made of? horse’s hooves

Do you know what their tail was made of? sometimes, real horse tail

Do you know how they used to power the carousel? sometimes, with real horses

Dude, isn’t it easier to just ride a horse?

Last, I bring you a little automatic music band by no other than Wurlitzer:

There’s also a small “History of Fire” museum with lots of fire fighting equipment, and that’s a part of the tour, and of course - you get a carousel ride!!

So we spent there two hours, and had to move on.

We drove to Yorktown Heights, NY, this is where the parents of John, who’s the husband of Kim, who’s a friend of Julia, who is my girlfriend - live.We had some of stuff stored there - long and boring story.

We stopped for dinner at Sprain Lake Golf Course and Drive Range. Wouldn’t you?

We got the stuff and moved on, trying to gain some millage. However, it turns out that the state of NY has all these weird rule about trucks not being allowed to drive on anything that’s a “parkway”. Seriously! I think you also can’t drive a truck if the person who is sitting in the passenger’s seat’s name begins with a T. We got yelled at until we left the parkway, and thus finding ourselves exactly where we did not want to be - inside NYC, with a truck. After two hours we finally got out, drove on to Edison, NJ where we found a motel and finished the day.

Days 2-4: Cambridge, MA

I spent the last three days in Cambridge, mostly in the Media Lab. There was plenty of free food and wi-fi and friends and beer for me to survive on. It was great meeting all my old lab mates. I really miss the lab. I also spent some time with The Israeli Bald Guys, a small group of, well, Israeli bald guys, mostly chemistry post-docs. There were a few new guys in the group, one of them was telling us a story about how he beat the crap out of a junkie who tried stealing his bike, hence becoming a legend in the corridors of the MIT Police Department.

Finally, I went to a party in the lab, where besides the usual party-hacking (like giving drinks only to guests carrying laser-cut, computer-vision-detectable tokens), some people were projecting on one of the walls “machinning porn”, which means that YouTube videos of 5 axis mills, fiber-glass weaving, looming and lumber splitting machines in actions are being screened on the walls and a bunch of guys are watching and drooling, sometimes saying something like “oh yeah, mill that baby”, or “you like having 5 axis, don’t you?”

Anyway -  Boston, like always, was good to me. Tomorrow, however, is the real deal. Tomorrow I start driving.

Day 1: Paris->Boston

Everything went extremely smooth today: gave back the keys to my landlord, got a cab to Charles de Gaulle airport, flew to Reykjavík, and from there to DC. These were the tickets that we bought when we were not sure what will our plans be. Once we figured I should start my road trip in Boston I called Iceland Air, and they were willing to change my flight for over $700, so I preferred landing in DC, as planed, and fly for there to Boston.

In the airport in DC I met Julia’s sister, who took from me one of my big bags and the guitar, to keep it from breaking and to lower my expenses. Then, waiting for my last flight to Boston, I had dinner. O.K, I had Wendy’s. I love Wendy’s, but coming from Paris, it reminded me how shitty American food is. As if that wasn’t enough, I got some coffee on the flight. American coffee. I thought I wouldn’t miss Paris at all - well, I already do, a little.

Last night in Paris

This is the living room of my Paris apartment. The only reason It’s clean is because I’m leaving. Julia has already left two months ago and found a job and an apartment for us in San Francisco, and I’m beginning the journey there tomorrow morning, and guess what? It’s going to be a coast to coast road trip!

That means this blog will be active again for the next, well, almost three weeks! If you followed my last road trip - you know it’s going to be awesome. If you did not - well, here’s your chance. Not a lot is going to happen in the next few days (flying around and chillin’ in Boston, mostly), so go back and read all about my New England adventures, and also the  Iceland and the Poland adventures. 

Stay tuned!