Saturday, June 26, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Norfolk
The next morning, after a wonderful short evening in the cricket bungalow, I lolly gagged my way to the clump of cities that take up the entire southeastern portion of Virginia. I planned on booking a room as soon as possible thinking I'd hit the beach that day, but in stead wound up driving in circles looking for my motel that was close to one of those overpasses that you have to corkscrew under at an intense angle while making an illegal u-turn just to be on the right side of the road to enter the parking lot of Motel 6. I'll never be one to profess my love of a Motel 6, but this one made me miss my cricket room and had I been smart enough to leave the parking lot I might have changed my mind and moved on. But it was cheap and I had things I wanted to do so.....
I had no plan, which works out better for me most of the time. Planning ruins everything for the most part, so I'm trying to avoid anything but the most rudimentary of itineraries. Some CouchSurfing acquaintances advised me to check out Ghent. Ghent is where you hang out if you're a really cool college kid who likes to drink coffee, so of course I wanted to hang out there. Not really, but I like coffee so I went to have a look. I had a delicious espresso beverage and checked out the local free magazine that tells you what's going on in the area. This is where I read about the art festival on the Virginia Beach boardwalk, which I just had to see.
I wanted to see the beach anyway so this worked out perfectly. I drove around in circles again for maybe an hour (I'm pretty sure the GPS gods are using me for sport) and paid too much for parking, but I did finally make it to the boardwalk. What I could see of the beach was pretty, I guess. It was swarming with people that seemed all too happy to be rubbing sandy elbows together with millions of strangers. Umbrellas and blankets were stacked and staggered from the sands edge to the surf. There really was nowhere for anybody to be but in the water, which is where everyone was. Hundreds and hundred of people all trying to enjoy the same thing in the same claustrophobic space. I didn't really feel like swimming anymore.
Luckily I hap options. I walked for what seemed like miles up and down the unrelenting heat with hundreds of other art appreciators oohing and ahhing at amazing works of art I could never afford. I talked to artists and took postcards and information so I could investigate my favorites later in room 223. I saw lots of inspiring works that day. And I picked up some souvenirs on the very long walk back to my car.
I had no plan, which works out better for me most of the time. Planning ruins everything for the most part, so I'm trying to avoid anything but the most rudimentary of itineraries. Some CouchSurfing acquaintances advised me to check out Ghent. Ghent is where you hang out if you're a really cool college kid who likes to drink coffee, so of course I wanted to hang out there. Not really, but I like coffee so I went to have a look. I had a delicious espresso beverage and checked out the local free magazine that tells you what's going on in the area. This is where I read about the art festival on the Virginia Beach boardwalk, which I just had to see.
I wanted to see the beach anyway so this worked out perfectly. I drove around in circles again for maybe an hour (I'm pretty sure the GPS gods are using me for sport) and paid too much for parking, but I did finally make it to the boardwalk. What I could see of the beach was pretty, I guess. It was swarming with people that seemed all too happy to be rubbing sandy elbows together with millions of strangers. Umbrellas and blankets were stacked and staggered from the sands edge to the surf. There really was nowhere for anybody to be but in the water, which is where everyone was. Hundreds and hundred of people all trying to enjoy the same thing in the same claustrophobic space. I didn't really feel like swimming anymore.
Luckily I hap options. I walked for what seemed like miles up and down the unrelenting heat with hundreds of other art appreciators oohing and ahhing at amazing works of art I could never afford. I talked to artists and took postcards and information so I could investigate my favorites later in room 223. I saw lots of inspiring works that day. And I picked up some souvenirs on the very long walk back to my car.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Lighthouses
I drove on cool and content after the pleasure of a dip at Surf City. Knowing I had no real deadline and no nagging agenda, I just coasted. I meandered. I daydreamed. I sang along to silly songs in the car with the windows down. I drove one-handed, one arm hanging out the window getting browner than the other. I passed quaint sounding towns and streets with funny names and I wondered about the meaning behind them.....Slaughter Beach, Butt Station Road, Croaker, Henpeck Road, Chicahominy, Witchduck Street, Robin Hood Road. On and on until I hit the loose strand of the northern island towns of North Carolina. My grand lighthouse was on this sandy sliver of beaches and resorts. Somewhere. The handy little GPS refused to help me out, but the map put me squarely in the area. I decided to get a place for the night since it was late afternoon already. (You know.....cause of all the lolly gagging.)
I wish I had known that the entire population of upper North Carolina hated the canine species. I could have easily snipped this upper corner of my trip off without a thought. I could have avoided driving in circles for nearly two hours stopping and asking very politely if dogs were allowed at this or that establishment. If I had known before I arrived that the area was anti-pet, anti-best friend, anti-Poe I would have trimmed that stupid huge lighthouse from my plans. Screw Nags Head, Kill Devil Hills, all those silly snooty named tourist traps. You're no Surf City! SuperPuggle and I have better places to be. Like Elizabeth City, an hour and half inland, where two very nice Indian folks felt sorry for us at 8 o'clock on a rainy night. They didn't even look at us like we were as haggard and as grumpy as I know I looked. I bet they wondered why I had a swimsuit on and still had sand clinging to my shins even though we were 100 miles or more from any water besides the heavy rain outside.
This is the night, in my room with crickets in it, at the Travelers Inn, that I realize my camera is a sputtering seizure of gritty mess. That's okay, I didn't take pictures of those intensely blooming mimosas swarming atop those metal palaces surrounded by day lilies anyway. And as far as I know you can't capture any dizzy sweet smells on film just yet. All is well. The day is still saved.
I wish I had known that the entire population of upper North Carolina hated the canine species. I could have easily snipped this upper corner of my trip off without a thought. I could have avoided driving in circles for nearly two hours stopping and asking very politely if dogs were allowed at this or that establishment. If I had known before I arrived that the area was anti-pet, anti-best friend, anti-Poe I would have trimmed that stupid huge lighthouse from my plans. Screw Nags Head, Kill Devil Hills, all those silly snooty named tourist traps. You're no Surf City! SuperPuggle and I have better places to be. Like Elizabeth City, an hour and half inland, where two very nice Indian folks felt sorry for us at 8 o'clock on a rainy night. They didn't even look at us like we were as haggard and as grumpy as I know I looked. I bet they wondered why I had a swimsuit on and still had sand clinging to my shins even though we were 100 miles or more from any water besides the heavy rain outside.
This is the night, in my room with crickets in it, at the Travelers Inn, that I realize my camera is a sputtering seizure of gritty mess. That's okay, I didn't take pictures of those intensely blooming mimosas swarming atop those metal palaces surrounded by day lilies anyway. And as far as I know you can't capture any dizzy sweet smells on film just yet. All is well. The day is still saved.
Kill Devil Hills
Before camping I wanted to try to see Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, the tallest lighthouse in America. I drove north, leaving behind room 228 and all its' glory. I'd seen all Wilmington had to offer in my opinion and I'd never even had the chance to get in the water!
I had to right that wrong before I could even put my lighthouse venture into play. So...checkout time came at the Motel6 and the WonderPug and I set out north on Highway 17. I drove until I saw a sign that seemed to tell me all I needed to know.......Surf City 13 miles :) A smallish back country beach community awaited us at the end of a winding stretch of lush green road lined with smart little trailer homes tucked under the shade of intensely blooming mimosa. All the pinkness and the drunken sweet scent are a part of my Surf City experience along with the salted wind and a recently healed sunburn. I enjoy a good detour.
This is where Poe got sand in my camera and may have caused a small technological setback on my adventure, but it was fun to watch. My dog is such a baby. Every time I made it to about bellybutton deep in the water, he had long turned back to save himself from the assaulting waves and probably the humiliation of some other dog seeing what a ridiculous looking swimmer he is. He would sit at the edge of the tide and watch very patiently as long as I faced him. The moment I turned away or sank into the surf to wet my hair and he could not see me as well, he took off toward the first human he could find and sat right next to them. I could not rightly enjoy the water for fear he'd be quickly adopted by strangers. Several times I had to remove him apologetically from the middle a father and his two daughters a few feet down the beach. They might be future puggle owners thanks to my posterchild for cuteness and vulnerability.
I had to right that wrong before I could even put my lighthouse venture into play. So...checkout time came at the Motel6 and the WonderPug and I set out north on Highway 17. I drove until I saw a sign that seemed to tell me all I needed to know.......Surf City 13 miles :) A smallish back country beach community awaited us at the end of a winding stretch of lush green road lined with smart little trailer homes tucked under the shade of intensely blooming mimosa. All the pinkness and the drunken sweet scent are a part of my Surf City experience along with the salted wind and a recently healed sunburn. I enjoy a good detour.
This is where Poe got sand in my camera and may have caused a small technological setback on my adventure, but it was fun to watch. My dog is such a baby. Every time I made it to about bellybutton deep in the water, he had long turned back to save himself from the assaulting waves and probably the humiliation of some other dog seeing what a ridiculous looking swimmer he is. He would sit at the edge of the tide and watch very patiently as long as I faced him. The moment I turned away or sank into the surf to wet my hair and he could not see me as well, he took off toward the first human he could find and sat right next to them. I could not rightly enjoy the water for fear he'd be quickly adopted by strangers. Several times I had to remove him apologetically from the middle a father and his two daughters a few feet down the beach. They might be future puggle owners thanks to my posterchild for cuteness and vulnerability.
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