Why do I ever leave this place?!

NYC, and you know what that means: late nights, early mornings, lunch meetings, rollerblading, art museums, dancing (and subsequent photos on the internet), bagels, and a whole lotta fun.
The night after I say goodbye to Nate, I meet my friend Patrick near ground zero. We pass what can only be tourists taking pictures of everything around them. We do as any New Yorkers do, giggle at them as we pass by.

We fashion an apple to hold shesha and hookah down a little path in a little park, which wasn’t sketchy until we got there. The rats, mosquitos, and Geoff were quick to join us.

After we finished the bottle of wine, Geoff and I played tag in a playground, which we were eventually kicked out of. Park hopping ensued.

Friday meant a lunch date with Ariela. We sat in front of a faux waterfall, one of the pockets of artificial natural settings created to make New Yorkers feel like they’re out in nature without making them leave the comfort of midtown Manhattan. So it goes.

After touring the Dalí and pre-fabricated house installations at the MOMA, I sat out in the patio in a rather uncomfortable chair contemplating human beings’ relationship with nature.


Click click. Rollerblades back on and I propel myself through Central Park, past horse carriages, bikers, pedestrians, and trees. Yes, we have some trees in New York. It’s good to be on human-powered transportation again after 23 days of roadtripping in a Honda.




That night I meet up with Patrick, Geoff and Ben and take the G train, which I never thought actually went anywhere, to see 45 Thieves. They weren’t playing until 2am, so we oscillated between the dance floor and drinking Sparxx on the front stairs of an apartment building. When they did start spinning, they played all the ill tracks. We danced and danced and had an awesome time!





And what’s a raveparty without glowsticks?


At 4am, the music wasn’t as good and it was time to go. It took me three subways and 1.5 hours to get home. The sky was getting light as I stepped out of the subway station; what a weird feeling. Grabbed a bagel at my favorite Palestinian-run deli on 96th Street, but was too tired to speak much Arabic.

It was 5:30am when I went to bed and 9:15am when I woke up. After a quick shower and breakfast, I hopped into the car with my dad at 10:30am and we headed East and then North. Our destination? Harriman State Park.

After a slight delay due to unannounced road closures, we found the well-hid parking lot for the Africa trail. So called because of the birdseyeview shape of the trail. The red-dot trail quickly took us upward and suddenly all we could see were rolling hills covered in thick green trees.

Down the other side of the hill, where we intersected with the yellow triangle trail. Below the trees, the air was calm and the mood was peaceful. It is relaxing to get out into nature and just use your senses, but to use them passively as a means to absorb your surroundings.




We had a picnic of humus, pita, cheese and fruit on a boulder by the lake.




On the trail again. When out of nowhere, the bush to our right started rattling and shaking. I saw it and backed away. Dad didn’t see where the sound was coming from and got within 2 feet of what we later identified as a Timber Rattlesnake, Crotalus horridus.

It took me more than a few moments to catch my breath and calm my racing heartbeat. By that time, the snake, no longer sensing in immediate danger, ceased rattling and slithered off. Petrified, I continued hiking.

Each time I heard a noise, I jumped. “Skiddish?” Dad asks. Well, yes. This is the second rattlesnake I’ve happened upon in a month. They are frightening creatures.

After the 3 hour hike, we hop into the car after one last picture and head to Milford, PA. We arrive at the little stone house just in time to start plotting dinner. Mmmm… BBQed marinated veggies and tofu with brown rice.


We munch on asparagus, corn, peppers, sweet potatoes (or was it a yam?), and tofu. It’s all delicious especially since it’s accompanied by Dad’s wine of choice. Ice cream and scrabble for dessert. I’m exhausted not only from a great day of hiking, but from not sleeping much the night before. So I proceed to sleep for 14 hours.


Breakfast is accompanied by rain, which persists until we get back to NYC.

Meanwhile, Mom’s been busy preparing a feast. She’s going to have a few people over for a dinner party of sorts. I try my hand at frying up some plantains. People arrive and soon the house drink (San Blas Sunrise) is gone! Mmmm… homemade guacamole and great conversations set the ambiance.

Dinner is served! The food is delicious. The people mesh really well together. And it concludes with the most amazing cheesecake I’ve ever had.

So to recap. Amazing food. Hilarious people. A million and one things to do. I love New York City.

But now with the weekend over, I turn my attention to my trip to Bangladesh.

Wait. What? Bangladesh?! Why in the world would I be going to Bangladesh?

It will all be explained in my next post. Stay tuned.

Rochester to NYC: a brief recap... more to come!

We arrived in New York City on the 23rd after a day and a half of whoopie pies, errand running, chocolate bread pudding, and relaxing in Rochester. We were clean and well rested and well fed!


Terri and Mike generously lent us their white VOLVO! So we packed our considerably fewer belongings, said a thanksforeverything and a hopefullyseeyousoon, and pulled out onto Highland Ave. We were on the road again.


After stopping for a caffeinated pickusup, I took over at the wheel. What a luxury to drive the VOLVO! I could see out of the rear window, I played with gadgets that told me things like my instantaneous MPG, and it didn’t smell like dirty climbing shoes! Not only that, but the passenger seat had some serious legroom. I could have lived in that car.

But then we got to Manhattan and I immediately wanted to leap out of the car and frolic through the streets. Nevermind driving through torrential downpours to get here, it was all worth it! It’s nice to be home.


Of course there’s nowhere to park on the busy chaotic streets of New York, so we doublepark while quickly unloading all of my junk onto the sidewalk. Nate and my mom moved the stuff into the apartment building while I cruised over pot holes, dodged pedestrians, and caught myself before making a free right turn over to the garage.




Up in the apartment, after a few hugs, we whip up a falafel, hummus, stuffed grapeleaves, and a spicy local arugala salad.



The next morning, we walk up Broadway to see my dad in hopes of providing therapy for Nate’s confused computer.




After a speedy walkthrough of the farmer’s market, I walk the roadtripper N8 down to the garage.


It’s always tough to say goodbyes, but I know that he’ll have so much fun with his family in Maine. With a triathalon, an engagement party, relatives, and rockclimbing I’m sure he’ll be super busy and happy.



Meanwhile, I turn my eyes to the magical circus that is New York City plotting my next move...

Deep water soloing in WV, whoopie pies in NY

Only four hours from Columbus, we hit the second Fayetteville of this trip. This time we’re in the wild and wonderful West Virginia. Wild and Wonderful. On every license plate. Everywhere we look.

We had hardly set up tent at the Rocky Top Retreat, when Roger comes bouncing over. “Howdy! Ya’ll here for biking or climbing?” With helpful advice, Roger points us in the right direction. “We got hot water and coffee in the morning.” My eyes open wide and the corners of my mouth curl up; I haven’t heard good news like that in a while!

The southern drawl has been trying to sneak into my daily speech.

Nate is itching to go explore and possibly get a climb or two in. I would rather not. So after he sees that I’m content where I am, he grabs his shoes and hikes down. Meanwhile, I whip out my book, swat at flies, listen to the sounds of the campgrounds, and unwind.

The big day begins the next morning. After a brief breakfast, we shoulder our packs and zoom we’re off! The air is sticky and thick with humidity. We pass butterflies, poison ivy, daddy longlegs, spiderwebs, and large capped mushrooms. We climb a 5.9, Nate attempts a 5.12c, and I find myself a new enemy in a 5.10b. As I repel down, I’m fuming and ravishingly hungry! On the hike back up to the campground, I stumble and pant my way up.




Pb&j’s and then deep water soloing at the Whippoorwill. I got my workout swimming and climbing and falling!



Back in town we flew to Pies and Pints. We blaze through a large pizza and Nate has an extra sandwich. The waitress is astonished, “how can two skinny kids eat so much?”
That night, we sit on the porch feeding the mosquitos. Lightening lines the horizon and thunder provides the soundtrack. We make it to the tent as it begins to sprinkle. All of a sudden, the sky opens up and releases a downpour. The lightening lights up our tent and the thunder roars overhead. Nate and I scare ourselves silly. Soon the storm is right on top of us, the lightening and thunder play leap frog at 2 second intervals. We cower in our tent wondering what St. Elmo’s fire is like and if will signify the end of us.

But the storm passes and with it our fears. Before we know it, it’s Monday morning and time to get up.

We hike down to some climbing. Get lost. Turn around. Where’s the right path? Ugh. It’s sweaty. No time. We turn back to the car.

Next stop, Pirate’s Cove for some deep water soloing. Park the car. Hike down the path. Not this path. Wait, was it the last path? Get lost. Time passes. Frustrated we start heading back to the car. Nate’s not satisfied. Run into other climbers, who point us in the right direction. The water feels good in the afternoon sun. We claim the rock back from the spiders.

Quickly back to the car! We have 8 hours of driving until Rochester!

With me at the wheel, we set out. Whoops! Wrong direction!! Let’s try that again.

The gas prices dance along the state borders. We’re in the last stretch. Go go go! But not too fast. What a shame if we got a speeding ticket this late in the game. West Virginia. Pennsylvania. New York! I-90 brings us almost right up to Highland Ave in Rochester.

Nate turns off the headlights as we sneak up the driveway, but Mike and Terri have planned for our arrival. We see a huge map of the world waiting for us on the top of driveway with colorful balloons (orange on top, of course!).

We’re met with arms wide open! Big hugs all around. Let’s scoot on inside for hot lasagna and late night catching up.

A shower and soft clean sheets have never felt so good! It’s bedtime for this weary traveler.

A Blast From the Past!

Ohio! More specifically, Columbus, OH. We pull up to Christina’s house. Knock knock. Hello?! She’s at the grocery store. Well, I guess that means we’ll have to surprise ambush her when she gets back.





How do I know this awesome girl, Christina? Hmmm… it’s a story that begins almost 7 years ago on September 11, 2001. Sixty American students were selected to spend a school year in Zaragoza, Spain. We were scheduled to leave New York for Madrid on that fateful day. Needless to say, after the World Trade Center towers fell that morning, it was evident that we would not be flying out as scheduled. We waited a week for our flight to be rescheduled.

During that week, Christina, stranded in New York, stayed at my house. We spent our days volunteering, donating, having awesome bake sales, dyeing Christina’s hair, and hosting ridiculously stressful dinner political debates!

We eventually got to Spain for nine months of culture, debauchery, tapas, dancing, perspective gathering and a whole lot of growing up. We were each other’s partner in crime. After returning to the US, we kept in touch on and off for the next 6 years (has it really been that long?!).




After brief hellos, we skirt downtown for a beautiful pizzapasta dinner. A beer or two later at home, we sigh into a goodnight’s sleep.



Nate and I sleep in the next morning while Christina is hard at work. We get lost trying to find the grocery store and end up walking in the wrong direction. The hot sun teases our poison ivy itchies. Nate asks the first person we see on the street for directions; the guy was working in a manhole.



We opt for the local market across the street from Giant Eagle. We make marinated portabella mushrooms sandwiches with spinach, hummus and muenster cheese. Mmmmm… With Jeny’s ice cream for dessert, it’s perfect! Cardamom and cayenne pepper ice cream?! Coriander and blueberry icecream? This place has some ridiculously delicious flavors. Yum!

The next day, we kidnap Christina, dress her as my twin, and head southward in search of rock climbing and hiking. Wait! Rock climbing and hiking?! I thought we were in Ohio. You know flat horizoned Ohio, with the farm lands and the corn fields?! Before our bewildered eyes, we started to see forests of tall trees. Then some hills!! We end up at Hocking Hills State Park, home of the Old Man Cave and Conkles Hollow. With trees! And hills! And caves! And trails. Oh my! How very uncharacteristic of Ohio.

Hiking takes on a whole new meaning when you’re surrounded by families, children and dogs. The trails come equipped with stairs and handrails and maps! We wound our way through the crowded Old Man Cave trails, but then opted for those less traveled in Conkle’s Hollow, a mere 3 miles from the hub of family outings.

Is it down this way? The Horse Trail? Are we heading the right way? Sweating in the humid air, skipping our feet over the soft ground, getting lost! Finally we make our way back to the parking lot and find a helpful sign that leads us to the real trail.

Scrambling with packs, we find some rock. Mossy, spiderwebby, grimy, crumbles off in your hand rock. Hmmm… Let’s turn around. Sorry Christina, your rock climbing adventure days will have to wait for another day. But at least we got a good hike in.

For months Nate has been talking about The Dark Knight. Months. He was obsessed. He had to see it. So we buy our tickets on opening day. It’s a sold out show; the theater is packed. The guy next to me talks all through the previews. Blah blah blah. Ugh. I hate that.

We walk back through the dark Columbus streets to Christina’s apartment. It’s 2am. Our legs are tired from a long day of hiking. Our laptops on our backs weigh us down. I fantasize about falling asleep.

Saturday! You know what that means… it’s FARMERS MARKET time! We hit up, not one, but two! The first one is pretty puny, but the second one is right outside the North Market. And it’s lunch time.






We say goodbye to Christina. It’s always great to see her. Strong, independent, and feisty as ever! Thanks for opening up your apartment to this pair of wild hooligans. It’s much appreciated. And remember, whenever you decide to quit your job and follow your true passion of traveling, let me know! Mwah! One more hug for the road.

Next stop, the New River Gorge, WV. Stay tuned.

The Midwest.

Back in the Midwest. Missouri looks a lot like Arkansas. Hours pass like state lines. Mile markers tick by like seconds. Outside the temperatures flirt with the mid-90s. The air conditioned car tries to soothe our poison ivied skin. I’m so itchy.

Right past St. Louis, we detour to Horseshoe Lake State Park, IL for the night. The sky darkens as we pull into the park. The main office has been closed for hours, so we decide to pay in the morning. Fishing lines border the lake and families enjoy the sunset over the water. We pull into campsite 32, set up tent, and dine on cold soup cans. The gnats are furious, but we should have known better. We’re on the lake right next to the woods. Hop into the tent for the night. Goodnight.

Or not. The weather is hot and muggy. Our poison ivy outbreaks are stinging and buzzing like we’ve sat ourselves in a hornet’s nest. My body burns and it takes every ounce of willpower not to scratch or scream. To add insult to itchiness, a dog two campsites down from us starts barking. And doesn’t stop.

I don’t know how we do it, but we end up falling asleep at some point. Promptly at 7:30am we wake up to an incessant honking. I unzip the tent to face a park ranger in his car. “Have ya’ll paid yet?” He asks. Really? REALLY?! He wakes us up at awful early in the morning to ask us that? Ugh. I tell him that we arrived late last night and we’ll pay on the way out. That seems to satisfy him.

Of course I can’t fall asleep after that. Pack up the tent and leave. Pay on our way out. Illinois looks a lot like Missouri. Indiana looks a lot like Illinois. Lots of corn. Cross another time zone. Back on Eastern Time. Whoa. Now we know we’re getting close.

Brake lights? BRAKE LIGHTS! We slow down to a crawl right before a construction area. The crawl jams into a complete stop. We turn off our engine after 10 minutes. No one is moving, except to get out of their cars to grab a glimpse of what in the world would hold up traffic like this! I followed suit, but could see nothing, even from on top of my tippy toes. After gossiping with the cars around us, we figure out via the radio that there are two accidents: an overturned semi and a 7 car pileup. We were told to expect a three-hour wait. Three hours. Cars start turning around. A couple cars try to cross the median into oncoming traffic. Our car wouldn’t give us enough clearance with all the junk in it. So we wait. As we make friends with our neighbors and bake in the 90+ degree weather, a few cars start moving. We hop in our car and we’re off, slowly at first, but gain momentum. Looks like it won’t be three hours afterall!

The overturned semi truck looks pretty bad, but we never see the supposed 7 car pileup.
Indianapolis comes and goes and now Columbus is on our radar. I see more and more corn fields followed by farmland.

Yup, we’re in Ohio.

Would you like a little bit of culture with that climbing?

We arrived tired, worn out, and sick of mosquitos and guerrilla camping. For four nights and three days Brian opened up his Fayetteville house to us. But not only that, he showed us an awesome Arkansas time. We owe him more than we can ever repay.


Sunday morning started lazily with crepes and a laptop party! Strawberry, raspberry… it all melted (from the crepe) into my face. Yum!



It was half past one when the Nates and Brian dropped me off at “the square” and from there I flew sola through the deserted streets of Fayetteville, peering into darkened store windows. With the sun still very high in the sky, I made my way to the normally hopping Dickson Street. Empty. Sunday afternoon empty.


Two hours later the tired, happy, and hungry guys picked me up and we headed to JJ’s for late lunchtime sandwiches. I take them up on their offer for free smells.






Mmmmm… Delicious sandwiches.





When Nate and I set out on this trip, oh about 17 days ago, it was pretty evident that he wanted to do a lot of climbing. I, on the other hand, wanted to see the country. I wanted to explore the little towns, talk to locals, and see what Middle America was all about. So far… we’ve done a lot of climbing. A lot of climbing. Borderline too much climbing if you ask me. Not enough balance with the other stuff we were going to do. But that night I get some of the culture I’d been waiting for.

Brian drove us down to a bar by the railroad tracks. We sipped beer and grooved to the sounds of a local bluegrass band. “This is the REAL country music,” says Brian. “These guys actually live in the country, not in big mansions.” And they were awesome. The fiddle player’s dredded beard forced him to play from his elbow. The bar was smoky, and the crowd cheered as the banjo player sang about Arkansas. My feet kept the beat as my eyes and ears just took it all in. Songs were about drinking beer, skirting the law, and things you don't want to tell your kids about (or the people reading your blog about). We had to leave the redneck hippies before they were done playing due to the prospect of an early morning. We were still humming the crazy lyricked tunes when our heads hit the pillow.

5am. The alarm goes off. The sun isn’t even awake yet. Drive off to Horseshoe Canyon Ranch before the heat sets in. I sleep the whole car ride and miss sunrise. When we hop out of the car, the sun is already beating down on us. After a short hike with our gear we get to the goat rocks, so named because there are goat droppings everywhere. We try and tiptoe around them, but they cover every inch of the ground. Squish. Ugh.


Wham! We knock out an awesome 5.8, a double-crux 5.9+, a painful 5.10a, and a fantastic 5.9+. With three people and two ropes, we use our time efficiently and somehow there is someone climbing at all times. Not bad for a morning, but around 1pm I start getting hungry.


The flies share our pb&j’s on the trading post porch. Most comfortable swinging bench ever!

Back in the car, where the flies have taken over, we squeak away on the rough dirt road to the river. Stretch our legs over the local foliage. Oh no. Wait. Was that poison ivy?! Yup. Good think I’m wearing long pants and closed toe shoes. Whew.

Down by the Buffalo National River, I slipped into the refreshingly chilly water while Nate and Brian tried to set up a slackline from one bank to the other. They gave up and started climbing on a cliff over the water. I swam over and immediately we were ambushed by black flies. We met some locals who were tanning and climbing. Patagonia is NOT in Pakistan! Ugh Americans.



The sun started hiding and goosebumplies started emerging. I climbed up a tree and read my book.

Surprise! Nate wanted to do more climbing. I was tired and wanted to start contemplating dinner options. I even made some ridiculous compromising offers, but he rejected them. His heart was set on climbing. I had no choice but to go along.

I was promised that it would be a “short” bouldering session. I think Nate and I have different definitions of “short.” We crossed a rickety, swaying, knee-buckling bridge and hiked up a path, which had more poison ivy. We thought nothing of it. Found some boulders. The guys hopped on route after route. I sat with my book, but couldn’t get any reading done because the gnats had come out for dinner. I slapped gnats to pass the time. After one more route after one more route, I finally gave Nate the look. It was time to go.

The sun set as we wound our way back to Fayetteville. Our minds turned to dinner. After entertaining the prospect of a BBQ, we decided that we were too hungry to attempt to cook. We needed food, quick! And in large quantities! But it was close to 10pm when we got back. It was a Monday night.

We drove around, accompanied by our hungry growling tummies. Nothing was open. We walked around, almost about to give up hope… but there was one pizza place that was still open. Score! I leave the restaurant feeling slightly too full, but exhausted. Longest day EVER!

In the morning, after a quick load of laundry and shower, we packed up our things. Tiny itchy bumps started adorning our bodies. Were they bug bites? No. They were poison ivy. And they were all over. Oh great. We stopped for some Benadryl and a picture. Look at our sad sad sad itchy faces.


Farmers market. Sweet nectarines and tart blackberries. Friendly vendors. Warm sun.

Back at the apartment, Whoopie Pie got inspired to write another song. So they went at it with the same passion and determination that I set into packing the car. The air was already filled to the brim with heat and I was sweaty and shoving things into the car. With my stellar packing job (if I do say so myself, and I do), for the first time in the history of this trip, we could see out of a sliver of the rear window. The boys finished their song and we were ready to set off.

As we pulled out of the driveway we waved goodbye to Brian and gave a last honk! Arkansas was an awesome stop. Brian went over and beyond what we had hoped for. I could tell that Nate didn’t want to leave, but so a roadtrip goes. Good friends and fun places pass by, but you gotta keep moving.

And keep moving we did.

Mosquito and Southern Drawl Territory

Nate was up early. I mean like 6am early. Which is way too early. Not only that, but he had his heart set on climbing. At 6am early.



He gets me up by snapping pictures of sleepy me in the tent. Why? I donno. He’s relentless though.




After a quick bouldering session, I’m still rubbing the sleep from my eyes. We pack our car and say goodbye to Priest Draw. I start off in the driver’s seat, Indigo girls on the car stereo. I’m singing my heart out. Nate promptly falls asleep.

Arizona turns into New Mexico. Something’s different though. Deep dark clouds are rushing our way. We could see the clouds melting into sheets of rain to our right, left and front. The blue skies slink away behind us. I’m nervous about driving through the seemingly neverending rainfest. The first drops appear on the windshield. “Here it comes!” I announce to no one in particular, hoping to pump myself up. The windshield is quickly covered with gigantic splotches of rain. I slow way down. I can barely see the cars in front of me. The cars behind me disappear behind a veil of opaque gray. Somehow I manage to stay within the painted lines. This is what they mean by monsoon season.

But it doesn’t last too long. Soon the rain lets up. At the next gas stop, Nate and I swap seats. The rain is still coming down on the sides of us. After another quick downpour, the road twists toward an opening in the clouds. Whew. The red plateaus emerge from the clouds and I decide that New Mexico is a good place after all.

But as soon as I make this realization, the tourist trap teepees and thunder storm clouds pass and we are in Texas. I’m still in my ridiculous getup: patterned turquoise tanktop, dirty black leggings, and silver shorts. The girls at the gas station flash me “the look” as I breeze past. Whatever. I’m just happy that gas has dipped below $4 a gallon!



The friendly man at the 3rd gas station of the day unintentionally informed me that we had crossed two time zones, losing two hours. Gotta hurry along to the state park before they close the gates! But gotta slow down 5mph at night. Hmmm… let’s just get moving!

At the gate we make small talk with the ranger, pick a campsite that promises shade, and get really excited about lighted (and heated) bathrooms with showers! It has been DAYS since we’ve showered and we need it. Badly.

Our Honda hugged the hideous downward spiraling roads. Pulled into the campsite. We decide that Nate will set up the tent while I boil the pasta and then we’ll reconvene for showerseeking and bedtime! Go team, GO!

STOP! Mosquitos everywhere! Everywhere!! I jump back into the car with a few pesky bugs at my heals. I cower in the car for a while until I can collect my wits. I pull on jeans over my leggings and shorts. Sneakers instead of flipflops. Longsleaved underarmor. Oh, what the heck, throw on a jacket also! I’m like a kid bundled for the winter, but the nighttime Texas weather is warm and muggy.

Pull the stove out. Soon the water is boiling. The mosquitos seek out exposed skin. One finds its way under my jacket, others go for my fingers and ears. I wimper and sweat, which attracts more mosquitos, which makes me sweat more, which attracts more mosquitos. It’s miserable.

We scoop mosquitos out of the boiling water and dump the pasta in. We can only hope that holding a plate over the pan will deter more from boiling alive. 3 minute pasta is wonderful for camping trips. We gulp down our pasta, trying not to think about the extra protein we were probably getting from this meal.

The bathrooms/showers end up being a hefty trek from the campsite. But we sigh with relief, finally we can cleanse ourselves and escape the net of mosquitos! But our joy was shortlived. In the women’s bathroom, there were bugs everywhere. Not just the expected moths swarming around the fluorescent lights, but roaches. I reluctantly take a shower, dodging roaches who scamper around my feet and scale the wall near my head. I hope that Nate’s experience is better than mine.

But in fact it was worse. I meet him in the men’s side. One of the showers, apparently, is out of commission because someone thought it would be a great idea to use it as a bathroom. How do we know? Because it was still there.

Feeling slightly more disgusting AFTER the shower, Nate and I return to the campsite and throw ourselves into the tent. We settle in. Whew, surprisingly we hadn’t let any bugs into the tent with us… Or had we?

The high pitched squeal of the mosquito is unmistakable. And it was in our tent. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep if there was a bloodsucking insect buzzzzzzing in my ear. Its sound alone makes me recoil in a mixture of terror, apprehension, and anger. We finally found it, with help from our headlamps, and disposed of it. It’ll be better in the morning, I kept saying to myself. It’ll be so much better.

And it was. After we finally got to sleep. Our campsite neighbor was a family with at least three young boys. At midnight one of the boys announced that he needed to visit the facilities. The mother was in serious denial. “Are you kidding me? Now?! Are you kidding?” Hmmm… it’s not something that you’d kid about. The mother just didn’t want to believe it; it was an inconvenience. That poor child was guilted for having to go to the bathroom.



The next morning, the neighbor family was up super early. And, by default, so were we. The bugs ate breakfast with us. There were so many bugs, I decided to imitate them. I thought I’d fit in more.






Took some pictures from the viewpoint.






In Texas, the cops are everywhere. But they don’t bother us because we get better millage going the speed limit. We didn’t even notice when we’d crossed the boarder into Oklahoma. We didn’t see a single cop anywhere in the whole state which, after Texas and its billboards announcing their roaming presence, was quite the pleasant surprise. Even though I don’t bring the car even one mph over the speed limit, police still make me nervous.

Oklahoma slid into Arkansas. We passed in and out of small towns until we reached the one we wanted. Fayetteville (with the slight accent on the Fay, not the ette like I’ve been saying it). We tug the car around the twisty roads and almost miss Brian’s driveway.

When we open the door, we are smacked in the face with the Arkansas humidiy. It’s like walking into a brick wall, and you’re sweating. Brian invites us in for some sweet tea. That night after a falafel dinner and a hefty downpour, I stumble off to bed to the sounds of Nate and Brian getting psyched over climbing videos. I think I’ll pop in these here ear plugs and then I won’t hear a single thing. Whoops, look at that, I’m fast asleep.