It's been three days since my American Airlines plane landed in Guadalajara. There is so much to tell. But, before the stories from last American adventure get pushed aside, I thought I'd write about my trip to southern Illinois before catching everyone up on my first few days in Mexico. There is much to tell, and photos will be posted soon. Promise. So, here is the tale two city kids down home on the farm.
About a week after getting home from my north woods adventure, I packed up the car and headed to the country. This time, I drove south and was flanked by rotating fields of endless corn and soybeans for nearly five hours until reaching "down home," a sleepy part of southern Illinois that many of Andrew's relatives call home. Again, the drive, like the one to the north woods, was more than worth it.
We first stopped at Aunt Martha's to say hello, greeting the free range chickens in the backyard on our way in (if only all chickens were raised like this, I might be able to be a carnivore again). Aunt Martha was sweet enough to give us a dozen eggs and make a fresh pitcher of iced tea for our visit. Sent on our way with hugs, we continued on our way to the drive in theatre. We parked the car, ordered sugary snacks and popcorn, tuned the radio to the theatre's frequency and settled in to watch Despicable Me. (If you have't seen this movie yet, please do. It's funny, charming and everything an animated feature should be). We went from chickens to the big screen all in one day, and looking back, it seems like that would be the theme of the vacation, something country-ish followed by television series dvds or Redbox movies.
My roommate, Jake, is an urban explorer. Abandoned warehouses, old factories, random spaces, you name it, he wants to sneak in and look around. I've never gotten a chance to tag along on one of these outings, however, after the exploration we did down home, I have an idea why he loves it so much. While Andrew had the keys to the buildings we ventured into, it didn't change the fact that these places haven't been hospitable in quite a while. A photographers dream, had I had the proper lighting. I did manage to snap a few shots of the hole in the ground, the abundance of office equipment, the piles of wires, the gorgeous painted tin ceiling and an old boat of a car of which I can't remember the make or model. One of the buildings had a wide open space that would make for a great roller rink, or dance floor, and both had excellent loft space I'd love to live in if the location was a few hundred miles north.
Despite climbing on old desks, looking through dirty car windows, examining old machines, it was nature, not an old nail, loose board or piece of glass, that would give me cause to find an icepack. A bee to be exact. I had managed to avoid getting stung for 27 years. When climbing around an old shed we came across what must have been a hive. I ran. That was mistake number one. Then I swung my arms around, trying to swat it away. That was mistake number two. The bee probably could sense my fear (and maybe the glass of wine), he found his way into my flannel shirt and stung me. First he stung my side, then, he moved to the crick in my elbow. I thought bees were supposed to die after they sting... Maybe this was a super bee. If anyone has any other reasons why this bee didn't die, please let me know.
So, after the bee fiasco, we went to the small lake a few steps from the house we were staying at on the farm. Trees were reflected beautifully in the clear water, fish jumped out of the water and dragonflies searched for their partners as I nursed my arm back to health. The icing continued as we watched "Youth in Revolt" (another Michael Cera must see).
Down home also has some fabulous mom and pop restaurants. We visited a few, the greasy spoon and the pizza place were the best. Even though all eyes were on us when we walked into the greasy spoon for breakfast, they all smiled as we sat down. And, to me, there's not much better than homemade pizza. The pizza was only rivaled by the great company we happened to run into before ordering dinner. Oh, and there was also the place where old school photos of Andrew's grandparents and other relatives adorn the walls. Grilled cheese is always a gold star offering in my book.
Last but not least, no trip down home is complete without guns, or so I'm told. I still haven't shot one. And, to be honest, don't think I ever will. Watching as the guys shot AK-47s in the yard was enough for me. Although I wish I would have had one of them take a photo of me holding the gun with my favorite peace ring that I was wearing that day. Oh well, maybe next time...
Reminder: Check back often for Mexico updates. I'm in class all day, but will be trying to start updating more regularly while I'm here. Also, become a follower and you won't have to rely on my fb status to prompt you to visit my blog.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Up Nort Der Hay
As promised, here's the recall (or at least a cloudy rendition of events that unfolded with the crazy group of people I'm lucky enough to call friends) of Athelstane. Dennis and Erin have spent the past few years planning an annual semi-outdoor adventure in the North Woods. I only say semi because we have stayed in cabins beautiful enough for me to consider giving up the city life and moving into a log cabin in the woods. For the past two years I've packed my hiking shoes, kayaking gear (which, to be honest, is just my bathing suit and workout clothes since) and favorite beverages, jumped in my car and drove north to meet the group at the Wildman Whitewater Ranch. The promise, and follow through, of a fantastic time made the 4 hour drive north more than worth it.
The long weekend began Thursday evening with a tasty cookout, brats for the masses and grilled veggies for me. Despite the heat, we built a cozy fire, had a couple drinks, even more laughs and roasted golden burnt marshmallows for s'mores. Oh, and tried to relive the previous years shenanigans by searching for an unlocked bus to pretend to steal and climbing to the top of the "lookout" tower. It's strange how one minute you're looking up at the serene starry sky reminded of how small you are, and the next minute you can be swept up in the hilarity around you. To me, that's uniquely north woods. Being surrounded by the peacefulness of nature, connected to the sounds and sights, but for as breathtaking the surroundings, the vast openness of it all calls for the bonding of friendships through questionable decision making.
The next morning, or was it technically afternoon, we put on our life jackets and helmets and boarded our kayaks for a run down the Menomonee River (all hopeful the water would be higher than last years "rock avoiding" kayaking run). The water was much higher, and made it much easier to maneuver. The Menomonee is has category four rapids, and it's awesome, but just because you make it through the first rapid without falling out, don't get too greedy. I made it through the first rapid, and it was so much fun I thought I'd try again. Mistake. The second run wasn't as successful; it was, in fact, the complete opposite. And scary. I don't think I got enough momentum, and tipped out half way down the rapid. They say to keep your feet up. Easier said than done, especially when a guide from a different tour group is screaming at you not to let go of your paddle and to swim toward the group (as if that wasn't what I was trying to do). The current was strong, and I had gone under a couple times before grabbing hold of and climbing atop a rock. One of our guides grabbed my boat, brought it over, and waited for me to regain my composure before continuing down the river. The rest of the run was a little less nerve wracking, and I made it the rest of the way without tipping again. Success.
The sunny afternoon led to another warm evening around the fire. More s'mores, even more laughs and a new way to make root beer floats. Our "relaxing" evening lasted until early morning. After a quick cat nap, part of the group opted for golf, some, like me, opted for leisurely walks around the grounds, falling asleep while reading outside on the balcony and a sunset bike ride. In true north woods fashion, riding along the winding road, I came across a bear cub sifting through someone's trash. I pedaled quickly past mentally crossing my fingers that the garbage would keep him distracted and prevent him from chasing me up a tree. Thankfully, that little cub was far more interested in the discarded banana's and grandma's meatloaf than biting my right leg. I made it back to the cabin in time for the last night of camaraderie, found myself a comfy spot on a futon nearly six hours after the sun went down, and woke up early enough to make it to Marisa's bridal shower.
The long weekend began Thursday evening with a tasty cookout, brats for the masses and grilled veggies for me. Despite the heat, we built a cozy fire, had a couple drinks, even more laughs and roasted golden burnt marshmallows for s'mores. Oh, and tried to relive the previous years shenanigans by searching for an unlocked bus to pretend to steal and climbing to the top of the "lookout" tower. It's strange how one minute you're looking up at the serene starry sky reminded of how small you are, and the next minute you can be swept up in the hilarity around you. To me, that's uniquely north woods. Being surrounded by the peacefulness of nature, connected to the sounds and sights, but for as breathtaking the surroundings, the vast openness of it all calls for the bonding of friendships through questionable decision making.
The next morning, or was it technically afternoon, we put on our life jackets and helmets and boarded our kayaks for a run down the Menomonee River (all hopeful the water would be higher than last years "rock avoiding" kayaking run). The water was much higher, and made it much easier to maneuver. The Menomonee is has category four rapids, and it's awesome, but just because you make it through the first rapid without falling out, don't get too greedy. I made it through the first rapid, and it was so much fun I thought I'd try again. Mistake. The second run wasn't as successful; it was, in fact, the complete opposite. And scary. I don't think I got enough momentum, and tipped out half way down the rapid. They say to keep your feet up. Easier said than done, especially when a guide from a different tour group is screaming at you not to let go of your paddle and to swim toward the group (as if that wasn't what I was trying to do). The current was strong, and I had gone under a couple times before grabbing hold of and climbing atop a rock. One of our guides grabbed my boat, brought it over, and waited for me to regain my composure before continuing down the river. The rest of the run was a little less nerve wracking, and I made it the rest of the way without tipping again. Success.
The sunny afternoon led to another warm evening around the fire. More s'mores, even more laughs and a new way to make root beer floats. Our "relaxing" evening lasted until early morning. After a quick cat nap, part of the group opted for golf, some, like me, opted for leisurely walks around the grounds, falling asleep while reading outside on the balcony and a sunset bike ride. In true north woods fashion, riding along the winding road, I came across a bear cub sifting through someone's trash. I pedaled quickly past mentally crossing my fingers that the garbage would keep him distracted and prevent him from chasing me up a tree. Thankfully, that little cub was far more interested in the discarded banana's and grandma's meatloaf than biting my right leg. I made it back to the cabin in time for the last night of camaraderie, found myself a comfy spot on a futon nearly six hours after the sun went down, and woke up early enough to make it to Marisa's bridal shower.
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