Filed under: Life, art, music, etc.
Cricket, Lina and I made it to Philly safe and sound. Them being cats, they have no idea that we came to a major swing state the day before a monumental presidential election or that we just missed the city’s first World Series win in 28 years. But I’d like to think those coincidences were sort of a warm welcome. Not to mention that Mother Nature saved an oddly fierce fall snowstorm for the week before I arrived.
The weeks leading up to my departure from Austin were all excitement. I quit all three of my jobs, which allowed me to get some volunteer hours in at the Austin Museum of Art and Austin Film Festival. That also gave me the time to say my necessary one-on-one goodbyes, have a little get-together, and get every bit of Austin partying out of my system so I’d welcome the down time that was about to come.
I knew and understood that I was leaving behind such a lovely place and so many much-loved folks, but I didn’t actually feel what was happening until about an hour before I hit the road — car packed, apartment cleared and steam-cleaned, all good-byes said. Then it was real, and a little difficult. OK, a lot. So difficult, I realized, that most people go their entire lives without attempting such a thing — moving solo across the country to a place with no friends or family or unyielding reason to relocate. I can understand why anyone would spare themselves from that feeling, which hit me pretty hard all at once — each and every good-bye I had said but not really felt. But the hardest part was chilling out for a second and being completely honest with myself, questioning whether I was indeed making the right decision. The difficulty immobilized me. For a good hour or so. Then I was excited all over again.
The drive was long — about 40 hours, not including all my random stops and distractions. But it was pretty enjoyable once the cats settled down. From Austin to my parents’ house in Oklahoma, where I stopped off for a few days, Lina meowed constantly and wedged herself into the few inches between the my seat and the driver’s side door and Cricket walked all around the car and would throw a fit if I put him in his carrier. Finally, by about Arkansas, they got used to being in the car. Cricket became accustomed to sleeping in his carrier in the passenger seat and Lina mainly perched up beside me one the console. Yeah, it was cute. The cats and I got a quite a lot of attention from other drivers and random strangers at gas stations.
I listened to a couple books on CD and replayed the new Dungen CD and Dr.Dog’s “Fate” over and over. I found out about Dr. Dog from a couple of over-enthusiastic ACL fest reviews, and ironically enough, they’re from Philly. It’s an awesome album — basically the official soundtrack of my Austin-to-Philly trek — meaning that now I’m actually a bit sick of it. But I’ll be un-sick of it by the time I go see the band live here in Philly the day after Thanksgiving.
It’s really hard to explain exactly how long a 40-hour drive feels unless you’ve done it. My method to prevent madness included stopping anywhere and everywhere of interest, not ignoring my abnormally weak bladder (seems to take longer when ya gotta pee), and getting up early and ending early — driving is so much more tiresome at night when there’s no scenery to look at. If I could find a good talk radio station, that was usually how I preferred to keep myself entertained. Or sometimes I’d listen to Spanish radio and translate in my head. Or sometime silence. Once I got lost in my thoughts and realized I had been listening to a radio broadcast of “Wheel of Fortune” for like 20 minutes. Whoever thought of putting that on the radio is just plain cruel.
I had a lovely few days with the family in Oklahoma before really getting started on my journey — and, oh was it a journey. Since I had no strict arrival deadline, I decided to take my happy time and enjoy a part of the country I had never seen before. I was planning on stopping through Hot Springs, Arkansas on Oct. 30 to stay a night with Kara, a friend who had just moved there from Austin. But I was actually a day behind schedule and ended up there on Halloween — which was perfect. Costume? I hadn’t planned on that, so I borrowed a skirt and hat from Kara and wore basically everything else I already had on, and I somehow ended up a law enforcement officer of some sort. It worked.
We checked out both bars Hot Springs had to offer. Yep. Both.
Some things I learned about Hot Springs:
- Don’t talk to single guys because they will instantly look for a ring and if they don’t see one they will assume they can start planning their wedding with you, even if you are in town for one night and completely uninterested in them.
- Don’t talk to married guys or their wife will hunt you down and hurt you.
- Statutory rape does not apply. Married life usually starts around the age of 16.
- Darkest beer available: Budweiser original.
- All directions are given according to how far you are from one of the two Wal-Marts.
- Racism is OK.
- Chauvinism is OK.
- Homosexuality is probably not OK.
Hot Springs was an adorable town, and I’m probably being harsh and pretentious. But one night was plenty for me. Kara must have felt the same way, because now she’s back in Austin and I have no forthcoming reason to find myself in Hot Springs again any time soon.
The next night was a Saturday and I was in Nashville so I checked out the town and caught a bit of live music. Overall, I liked Nashville. It was friendly and I met a lot of very kind people, many of whom were just interested in finding out what in the hell a girl like me was doing out by herself on Broadway Street on a Saturday night. But I’ll admit, I became quickly uncomfortable in a few parts of town and corrected those situations accordingly. Nashville can be, to say the least, a lot to handle.
Ashville, on the other hand, was a pretty little paradise haven tucked away in the Appalachians of North Carolina that was almost sickeningly blissful. There was more than a fair share of yuppie, commercial hippie-ism — like “bums” on the street strumming guitars and eating gourmet organic flaxseed cous cous from the overpriced deli on the corner. The town was cute, and I liked what I saw of it. The city planners there are really on the right track in making something touristically enticing out of a middle-of-nowhere town. If I were rich and had all the time in the world, I would have loved to go in all the little bookstores, clothing shops and art galleries (there were tons). But my plan was only to have lunch there and move on. And I actually decided that I didn’t really want to spend $15 on a sandwich that didn’t look all that yummy. So I just moved on down the road and settled for Subway.
I spaced somewhere east of Ashville, somehow missing the main highway that would have taken me a bit more northward straight into Philly, so I had no other choice than to take the less-traveled route through Virginia wine country. I hadn’t planned on a wine tour, but really, it was my only option. At one of the wineries I met these adorable older women who I gladly let talk my ear off about grapes and their grandchildren. When I commented on how gorgeous the fall foliage was — something I had never seen before — they confidently gave an explanation as to why the scenery was so stunning: “This is God’s country, dear,” one said in all seriousness with a wine-stained smile. “And just north of here, that’s Jefferson’s country. You’ll see.” I’m still not sure if that made sense or not.
Baltimore traffic: not that bad. Philly traffic: not that bad. Washington D.C. traffic: HELL HELL HELL HELL HELL HELL. But I made it.
I like Philly even more than I imagined I would, actually. A lot of people hate Philly, it seems, and I really don’t understand why. My neighborhood in South Philly is extremely friendly and diverse. My neighbors are great and I’m only a short bike ride, healthy walk or momentary train ride from Center City (the heart of downtown). There’s also a sort of economic and cultural renaissance happening in this area — cute and trendy neighborhood shops, restaurants and bars are popping up right and left and the arts community is thriving. As some around here would put it — gosh darn hipsters are infiltrating the streets of South Philly.
As sinful as it may sound, I’ve yet to try a Philly cheesesteak, mainly because I think the concept of that type of sandwich is sort of sinful in itself. It’s been a while since I consumed such an abundance of grease and meat all at once, so I think I’d be best off to save my cheesesteak virginity for a real grease-beckoning booze night. I do, however, absolutely love bagels and cream cheese and I eat them almost every day. Sadly, there’s no Philadelphia cream cheese museum here or anything of that nature.
From what I’ve seen biking around and walking ’til my feet bleed, Philly is awesome. And I’ve still got a lot to see. Unlike New York City and Austin (don’t get me wrong; I love NYC and am IN love with Austin), people in Philly are actually from here, often born and raised, family still here and in tact. It’s a close-knit town chock full history and pride — but there’s all those big city benefits as well: opportunity, culture, stuff to do, etc. Not to mention that the subway here is a big upgrade from the public transit in Austin — CapMetro is great and all, but it is, after all, a bus. And with only two train lines that run perpendicular through the middle of the city, getting around in Philly is a lot less frightening than the mass transit situation in NYC or D.C. And those cities are only two hours away if I so happen to be in the mood.
I can’t lie and say I don’t miss Austin already. There are so many things about that city that make it completely incomparable — the music, the Greenbelt, the weather, just to name a few. Oddly enough, for the first time since my move, I felt like I was in Austin last night. I had volunteered my time working the merchandise counter at the World Café, a live music venue near UPenn, and the band playing happened to be Austin’s own Bob Schneider. On top of that, I ran into a friend I knew from a bar I worked at in Austin who had also just moved to Philly, and I met and hung out with a couple other Texans as well. Random, yes. But I’m done reading into coincidences.
Nashville
Ashville
Wine country
Lynchburg
Philly
