Part One: Through the Bible Belt into a Brave New World
Against all odds, this year has provided some silverlinings in my life, the likes of which I would have never been able to imagine. I’ve dealt with isolation, loneliness, depression, anxiety, grief over the deaths of friends and family members, displacement, a sense of homelessness (or perhaps just placelessness) – and yet, there is always room for growth. That room gives way to light. It gives way to hope.
October was a busy month for me. If I look through my instagram feed, nothing is more apparent. I started the month with a can-do attitude, a feeling of radical self-acceptance I have written on a lot recently. And fortunately, the feeling continued to grow by the day.
The highlight of the month – of my year, as someone that’s been terribly deprived of external adventures that I crave – was hands-down my heavily anticipated road trip.
Let’s look at the context, complemented by Corona, to understand why this was such a big deal: Semana Santa is usually one of my big travel months. I was in total lockdown in my apartment in Colombia. I had aspirations of making a full (or at least partial) trek around South America. Lockdown was still going on. It only just let up in Colombia. I made the decision to come home to Louisiana. I was anxious, mind you, about choosing to do the following: leave my apartment unoccupied for an indefinite amount of time, taking a bus to get to Bogota and then a plane (all the while possibly exposing myself to the virus) only to be shut in my parents house or my grandma’s house – indefinitely. Possibly unable to return.
I had expected to be back in Colombia by September. That didn’t happen.
And on top of that, my grandpa passed in July and I spent that whole month basically mourning and taking care of my grandma. My depression and anxiety reached a fever pitch. Around which point I reached this turning point in regards to taking advantage of qualifying for medicaid and reaching out for medical help. And from there, things began to move at lightning speeds. Even now it seems like a beautiful, hazy blur – and yet, simultaneously September onward has been some of the clearest moments of my life so far.
For starters, in August, I went back to work. Virtual work. I readapted to this schedule, a new schedule, while living in somewhat close quarters with my grandma, my cousin, and eventually his girlfriend and their baby. But while getting things straight with work, I also was going to the doctor, practicing driving, and by the end of the month I had finally passed my driving test – just before Hurricane Laura came to town. September was upon me. No license yet.
3 weeks with my uncle. A month evacuated and struggling and being held together by my work schedule. I adapted to my medicine. And finally, we were back home – back with my grandma again (my parents had no internet at this point, so staying with them wasn’t even an option).
As soon as I could, I got my license with a vengeance. Why so eager? you wonder. Well I could see at this point the blatant truth – I wouldn’t be going back to Colombia anytime soon. I was stranded and just homeless enough to qualify for free healthcare in the state of Louisiana. But it was time to turn these negatives into a positive.
My first move with my freshly printed, hot-off-the-press license? Renting a car. And taking a roadtrip. To New York City!
My grandma thought I was absolutely delirious when I told her. “But surely you won’t go alone,” she said. “I mean, these days, with all these crazy people, it’s just not safe for a woman to travel all that way alone.”
I insisted I would be fine and that I’d made up my mind. I had been doing this sort of stuff since I was 16, and everyone always called me crazy, but I always came out of the experience fine.
Still, it took a call from my brother and dropping the news on him for a spontaneous collaboration to calm her fears: I wouldn’t be going alone. Jace would be going with me, my second in command, my navigator, my…deadbeat driving partner. [I kid, but he did spend considerably more time on his phone watching Hunter x Hunter instead of paying attention and giving moral support as I drove in THE DARK FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER NOT TO MENTION IN THE MOUNTAINS – but don’t worry, I don’t take every possible opportunity to remind him of this or anything *clears throat ostentatiously*]
Our journey began at the Alexandria airport on Sunday morning. The date was October 4th. The time was 10 am. We arrived just when the rental car was supposed to be ready. Unfortunately, it was not. We had hit our first snag in the trip. However, I was far too happy to be bothered by the minor inconvenience – and the lady working at National Rental was far too nice for me to get upset about it.
This delay was caused by three factors: rental car customers not returning the cars on time, a limited supply of cars to begin with, and the time it took to clean and sanitize the cars before turning them over to a new driver. I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t feel rushed or distressed, but as luck would have it, we were only waiting a short time – by 11 am we were on our way from the airport to the highway.
Three days before, I had made my reservation and calculated things just so Jace and I could leave from his girlfriend’s house in Alexandria. A Mid-Size car for a week runs at $217.64 at National – PLUS Taxes and Fees of $109.36 PLUS a protection plan…and fees for late return. Put a little pin in that fact, because it comes back to bite me later. I was so naïve, thinking by paying the gas, Jace had the worse end of the deal. But we had a car, and in the moment, that was all that mattered.
The road is an exciting place. It’s more exciting when you’ve been fantasizing about hopping in a car and just driving for years – literally romanticizing Kerouac’s On the Road and praying to the universe for the opportunity to do what so many Americans take for granted – blast music from their own speakers without anyone else’s approval and go on an adventure.
Needless to say, I was literally buzzing for the first 3 hours or so of the trip. Then the fatigue set in as every rice and even the beautiful white cotton fields all started to look the same. Jace and I alternated a few times as I found myself get more and more weary.
We made it to our first stop, a basement airbnb in Evansville, Indiana. One episode that stands out from the 12+ hours on the road was our stop off in some town in Kentucky. We stopped because it was time to refill the tank (wow, gas goes fast!), I needed to use the bathroom, and we both decided if we were gonna drink that night we would need to go ahead and buy our booze before getting to Indiana. It was about 6 or 7 pm I think, and the chipper lady behind the counter rang up the drinks I’d grabbed without even asking for my ID. When I tried to pay, there was a restriction. Dry after 10. I laughed in confusion. It was still early. The lady kindly clarified: No alcohol can be sold in Kentucky after 10 am on a Sunday.
Now I don’t know what kind of law this is except: BACKASSWARDS. But unfortunately there was nothing she could do but recommend a liquor store or bar or something (warehouse?) down the way that sells alcohol even after legal hours. Once again, I was more amused than bothered. That’s just life, but there was no way we were detouring for that.
I discovered that something essential when you’re on the road is using your time wisely. Jace and I began racing from day to day so that we would not waste too much time on the road.
Our stay in Evansville was…quaint. The lady, a slender ginger woman with long braided hair, seemed to have a stiffness about her. She did not answer the door right away when we got there (admittedly it was late and we were very embarrassed and apologetic). Then when Jace ran off to get food, he gave her a headsup yet she still locked the door – causing some more chagrin as I struggled to unlock it before finally resorting to knocking on her door – this was after midnight.
We were delirious and exhausted. Surrounded by what seemed to be a perfectly set up classroom for fundamentalist Christian homeschool, replete with a Biblical history of the world and “The Lord Jesus Christ” scrawled loudly in beautiful cursive script on the whiteboard on the other end from the queen sized bed – somehow we were exhausted enough to pass out. Until we were woken in the morning by the sound of her three children running around. Walking past them sitting at a dining table near the living room/ante chamber was…awkward. So that was our first brush with the quaintness of the famous Mennonites – the slightly more modern version of Quakers and Amish people, I guess.
Anyway, we got on the road early that day. Each day was about 12 hours driving, and we were more excited than ever to reach DC. Our airbnb in DC was flawless. If a kindly uber driver hadn’t later informed us that we were in a “sketchy” part of the city, we would have never guessed – aside from the unavoidable smell of weed. And the view of it growing in broad daylight across the street the next day. But still, not necessarily a “sketchy” thing.
You see, DC is interesting because marihuana is decriminalized and yet technically still illegal to sell. So you can have it, but you can’t sell it. And if you buy it, you are technically giving a “donation.” Don’t ask how I found that out. But DC was a lovely experience. Our airbnb was a different kind of basement – quiet, a big comfortable bed and a big sofa bed, a big kitchen and clean bathroom. And still basically the same price as the place we stayed in in Evansville. Well, maybe a bit more expensive. My brother was in charge of lodging on the way.
We had imagined taking a bike to the historic part of the city. We didn’t realize how warm it would be. Yes, it was cooler than Louisiana, but under the midday sun, DC still felt just as warm. We opted for an uber to what is known as the National Mall.
We visited the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, the Vietnam memorial, and even the Smithsonian Institute focused on American history – all for free. The only expene was the uber and our lunch.
Most restaurants were closed in DC because of the virus. Jace and I noticed people were still active, walking, vlogging, and visiting museums – but few places to eat. Not even a coffee shop. We eventually found the sculpture garden after leaving the Smithsonian and had some good sandwiches and a drink, which we ate outside in the garden.
We passed by tons of museums and old state houses – the city was absolutely gorgeous. And the people were friendly as well. Unexpected bonuses?: We got some free edibles and some lady was walking around with her boobs out. Questions were asked. No answers were given. And the White House was still being watched by every political newscaster in the biz, no doubt speculating about the health of a recently Covid-stricken Trump. DC, my dears. A dream fulfilled.
With our day in DC well spent, we turned our eyes northward to our true destination: the Big Apple.
*Note: I’m having issues uploading pictures, but there will be more to see soon!*
Want to read more AND learn what not to do while staying in NYC? Leave a like or a clap!
Diario de una Aventurera 