animals we almost hit while driving

1. crow
2. road kill (unidentified)
3. road kill (coyote)
4. crow eating road kill
5. deer
6. rabbit
7. flock of birds

fyi

FYI, we are completely unprepared for this trip, knowledge wise. We have a bunch of maps, and know the two freeways we need to drive on, but that's about it. Neither of us knows diddly-squat about the places we are visiting, which is almost exciting. I have a guidebook, but it sucks. We stop reading it after a few days.

impressions of northern Arizona

Arizona is basically a lot of desert. We enter the state at seven pm. It is very cold. In fact, my car reports that the temperature has dropped below freezing! It is twenty eight degrees! AND there is snow! Winter wonderness! The windows of the car are very chilly, but we are snug as a bug with the heater going.

We bunker down in Williams, a small town at the end of the Grand Canyon highway. It is full of motels and hotels and Christmas lights and snow that has been pushed to the side of the road. We stay in a really sketchy motel (Roadway Inn) and you can tell that it is extra sketch because the towels in the bathroom are crumpled up in the bathtub and in the sink, ie unwashed.

This is the first time we perform our nightly routine:

1. Bring our luggage inside and transfer remaining bags into the trunk.
2. Take off shoes.
3. Turn on the TV to the weather channel.
   
4. After an hour or so, switch to TLC.
5. Go to sleep.
   

(In the morning, Naomi will wake up hellishly early to go running and do stretches and weights, and I will struggle to become conscious.)

We ask the lady at the Roadway Inn how to get to the Grand Canyon, and she fumbles and confesses that she was not very good at directions, and then proceedes to direct us to "make a left on some such street and that will take you all the way there." That's it? She wasn't good at giving one-step directions? Seriously? I mean, does anyone come to Williams for any reason OTHER than the Grand Canyon?

Williams in the am is stunning. The snow is piled thick in the fields and forest areas next to the road to Grand Canyon. The fir trees are green and thick and full, the sky is bright blue, and the sun is shining furiously. I take about seventy pictures as we are driving. We almost hit some deer. Then, we almost hit a car.

We do the Grand Canyon in twenty minutes, and then we're done. It is spectacular. I've always thought that I wouldn't be impressed when I saw it in person. I've seen so many photos, I've seen it from an airplane, I've been down the Colca Canyon... But it really is awesome. Not so much because of the depth, but because of the distance between the two sides. It's like when you stand at the lookout, the other side of the cliff is so far away that you can see down to the bottom, all the different colored layers of rock. The snow has made the rock layers even more stripey, and there are green shrubs poking out here and there as well.

We take a bunch of photos, including a self portrait of jumping in the snow, and leave. Because how long can you stand around looking at the ground in twenty-degree weather? We have seven more states to visit.

First we take a detour at Meteor Crater, the "best preserved meteorite crater on earth." We are total suckers for superlatives, but don't go inside because of the steep entrance fee. I take a picture of their billboard so we can pretend how awesome it is. We decide we've basically seen every crater since we've both been in Mitzpeh Ramon, and off to New Mexico!

(The Wikipedia pictures of the crater are really neat and it actually looks super cool but don't tell Naomi.)

But not before we stop at the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert National Park. Both super neat and we get to walk outside and do a quick hike and see the petrified (and crystalized!) tree trunks. The Painted Desert is especially beautiful as the sun is starting to set. We take pictures through the car window. It's the kind of nature beautiful that you want to keep looking and looking, but since there is no lodging, we drive on.

Our start time is December 20, 2008 at exactly 2:00pm. The car is gassed and loaded, and we are chock full of maps, thanks to AAA. As I ignite the engine, we realize that neither of us knows how to get out of LA on the proper freeway. Naomi wants to phone a friend, but I quickly reject that out of sheer embarrassment.

Our start time is December 20, 2008 at exactly 2:00pm. The car is gassed and loaded, and we are chock full of maps, thanks to AAA. As I ignite the engine, we realize that neither of us knows how to get out of LA on the proper freeway. Naomi wants to phone a friend, but I quickly reject that out of sheer embarrassment.

Several minutes later, we figure it out, but are then stopped in Silverlake gridlock. This gives Naomi time to practice how to say "Los Feliz." I recite the Eighteen Ways Our Trip Might Suck as reported by Ronen.

It takes fifteen minutes to reach the freeway, which is less than a mile away. More traffic in Pasadena! Great start!

road trip!

You know what's really exciting? Gas has dropped to a dollar sixty-seven, which is cheaper than it was back in college when I took that California road trip with Rachel Canada. I've calculated that it will be less than a hundred bucks each this winter when Naomi and I drive to New Orleans and back*.


View Larger Map




*Stopping in Grand Canyon, Albequerque, Oklahoma City, Little Rock, Miss, Baton Rouge, and Las Cruces. And somewhere in Texas because, unfortunately, you can't avoid it.

Netherlands Day 7

Ghent

We took a very early train to Ghent and first things first, locked up our stuff in the train station lockers. This will become our M.O.

Ack, I’m already getting tired just writing about this day. Let me tell you, we were both exhausted from the get-go and probably planned too much in too short a time. There was very little conversation. I think we were both saving our energy for moving our feet and blinking.

Ghent is another little Belgium city with cobblestone streets and pretty cathedrals. From the train station, we took a tram into the center of town. Ghent boasts not one, not two, but THREE large and beautiful churches. We saw two of them but only one was memorable because the ceiling was entirely laid with brick. Red brick. It seems a little wrong to me. Like, isn’t the brick is too heavy and small and won’t it just fall out of its mortar and onto the head of an innocent Catholic? Also, isn’t red brick too ordinary for an ornate, Gothic church?

While I pondered these thoughts and chewed European strawberry Mentos, we climbed to the top of a bell tower. By “climbed, “I mean “took the elevator.” There was no way either of us were going to expend energy or muscles on an experience we did yesterday. This bell tower was altogether quite similar to the one in Brugge, only shorter and less full of tourists. Also, it started raining hard while we were up there, so the view was very gray and foreboding. Perfect for our next stop at a medieval castle.

Oh, but first we stopped and got pastries, because what is traveling without eating chocolate-stuffed pastries for breakfast/lunch/dinner/snack?

Gravensteen Castle was pretty much in the middle of town, right in between some pretty old guildes’ gables and a lace store. It was made of stone, as castles are, featured a moat and some turrets, and apparently was used as a torturing chamber for many generations. I kid you not, in every single room there was an explanation for a different kind of cruel punishment. Here they did water torture, here they did stretching, here they did public burnings, here they did private burnings, here they did secret burnings, and here are the toilets. (Not as thrilling as our castle hostel, to be quite honest.)

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Antwerp

For some reason, I have this notion that Antwerp is a big, Europeanish city with famous things and a rich history, somewhat on the same level as Athens or London or Moscow. For reals, it is the center of the diamond industry, has a huge black hat Chasidic community, was home to Peter Paul Rubens, and boasts the second largest port in Europe. (Rotterdam in the Nederlands is the first.) HOWEVER, no one sets their wall clock to "Antwerp" time. But I just can't shake the feeling that I am in Paris. (I have never been to Paris.)

We walked around the center of Antwerp, past a lot of diamond stores, past two more Black Hats, past the Vlaamse Fritas stand Jabba Dabba Doo that no longer exists. (Sad Day.) We lunch (Parisians "lunch" as a verb) at a fantastic health food restaurant. I get a delicious, creamy pumpkin soup and my mom gets a "delicious" leek soup.

We don't actually do much in Antwerp, because it is Monday and that is the day all of the museums are closed. All of the famous art and architecture museums I was so looking forward to seeing. Instead we see another Rubens-filled cathedral, the central market square which is lined with medieval and Gothic guild houses, and lots of tourists.

The train station is lovely, a beautiful Art Deco / Classical colorful facade. Also, our train conductor has a very serious mullet, that is pretty fucking awesome. On our way to Rotterdam, we woefully outnumber the seats on the train. I sit on the floor and gaze at the American guy sitting on his suitcase right next to me. For pretty much the whole time.

ohmigod, I am exhausted.

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Stayok Rotterdam

Rotterdam is kind of an ugly city. It was all bombed during WWII, on account of their huge port, so there aren't any Renaissancey or Gothicy buildings. The streets are paved with asphalt and there are many boxy, unadorned high-rises. It's like Los Angeles.

But Los Angeles doesn't have a Stayok hostel, which is a fab place to be if you are in Rotterdam for the evening. This Stayok is related to our castle Stayok, although there is no moat and no coat of arms. We manage.

FIRST, we claim beds and lie staring at the ceiling for several minutes, catching our respective breaths and enjoying the uniquely comfortable Stayok mattresses. NEXT, we take bets on whether or not our roommates are Asian. (They are.) THEN, we separate and my mom drinks tea in the "kitchen" while I stuff my face with Belgium chocolate in the TV lounge. TV!!! I believe I intended on reading my book about the Dutch girl on a pirate ship but was sucked into Wimbledon on the boob tube. I have never been interested in tennis, but I AM interested in Serena William's fashion decisions, and thus watched several games (or matches? or sets?) between her and some skinny blondish chick. And then the men's game got rained out. Boo hoo. At some point, my mom came in and we planned our next day. LAST, we fell asleep to the gentle pitter-pat of the Dutch rain on the window.

Netherlands Day 6

Brugge

Before we got to Belgium, we ate a delicious Best Western breakfast of chocolate sprinkles on bread. Of course, it was raining. And the train station did not have lockers. So we walked with all of our shit to the center of Middleburg, where there is an enormous brick Abbey, or Abdij. It is quite empty and silent, save for the pitter patter of rain and our footsteps. No one here goes to church on Sunday morning?

And...back on the train. No passport stamp, which is tragic. A minor train mix-up in Antwerp, but no big deal. Three black hat sightings. And then hauling our junk to Hotel Lybeer (which is really a hostel), located on a narrow, cobblestone street. As they all are, we soon learn. Brugge is a medieval city with a lot of old buildings and cobblestone squares. Kind of like all of the Netherlands, but even older. And it is FILLED with tourists. The kind of tourists who carry Fodor's Guides, which are very different from those of us who use Lonely Planet or Let's Go. Fodor's people stay in nice hostels and wear ironed slacks and carry purses. They eat at sit-down restaurants. Lonely Planet tourists stay in hostels, wear jeans and running shoes, and eat paninis from street cart vendors. We carry backpacks.

We carry our backpacks through a church that houses Michaelangelo's Madonna and Child statue, the only one outside of Italy. In it is playing the most beautiful choir music ever, it is called Veni Sancte Spiritus and composed by J. Berthier and M. Franck, listed under the title "Taize." I must find it somewhere are buy it. Then we carry our backpacks to a locker so we can enjoy yet another medieval art museum. And we climb up a bell tower. It is 315 or 336 steps high, depending on who you believe. I might choose to believe the building itself, because 336 steps sounds more impressive, despite the fact that I counted as I climbed. There are carillon bells inside and a fantastic view of the city.

We reward ourselves with some genuine Vlaamse Fritas, or Flemish Fries, which are made from Binji potatoes and cooked and then fried. The Dutch (and Flemish) eat them in little paper cones with mini pokey forks and mayonnaise. We request tomato ketchup. Then we take a canal cruise around the city. It is not so impressive, except for the building we pass that could possibly be the international clog house of pancakes and some swans on the grass.

After unsuccessfully using the hotel's computer (did you know there is a non-QWERTY European keyboard? Me neither.), we find an internet-snooker-bar and did some internetting. Across the street was a fantastic sandwich / smoothie / crepes / waffle place. WE were very lucky to find such an amazing place like that, and the fact that it was still open at ten pm was double lucky. I got a goat cheese panini and carrot-apple juice. DELISH.

Back in the hostel, we meet Shane the Canadian who has just celebrated Canada Day at Vemy Ridge memorial in France. He enlightens us about how the rest of his country hates Torontonians because they not-so-secretly think/wish they were part of the USA. He is a voice talent and represents some Canadian company that I have never heard of. This last bit he doesn't tell us, but I hear it anyways, because the girl sleeping in my top bunk doesn't notice that both I and my mother are sleeping in bed and maybe she should keep her voice down. By "down," I mean not speaking as if she were on the other side of the room, when in fact, she is just three feet from Shane. He finally tells her that we are asleep and planning on waking up early and that they can talk shop in the morning. God bless Shane, although it really shouldn't have taken him twenty minutes to speak up. It was past midnight, after all. As soon as the lifhts are turned off, I fall asleep.

Oh! I almost forget the best part! My top sheet has a hole in it! Big enough for me to fit my hand through! This cracks me up to no end. My mother's also has this defect. It's like an Orthodox sex sheet, only with much more starch.