Never Have I Been So Wrong

This post is admittedly a day late. I wanted to write one about our last day through the last few miles of Kansas, all of Missouri, the southern tip of Illinois, down through Kentucky, and finally into Nashville, Tennessee; but, frankly, after doing all of that, I was in no state to write about it. Especially after gorging myself on a burbon, maple milkshake, tater tots with truffle oil, and one of the best ranked burgers in the state. (I would apologize for bragging about that, but I can't. It was magical, guys.) 

Now that I've had some time to digest my food (and eat more similarly wonderful food), stretch my legs, and take a whirlwind tour of Nashville, I can write.

Here's the thing--being an ignorant and awfully proud Californian, I have lived under the assumption that the rest of the Union (with the exceptions of New York City, Hawaii, and perhaps Chicago) is generally inferior to the perfection that is Southern California. Never have I been so wrong. While I still have little love for certain parts of the country (I'm looking at you, I-can-bake-cookies-in-my-car-it's-so-hot Arizona), I have developed a new found love for the Great Plains, Utah, Colorado, and the South.

Why is the flatness of Kansas so quietly beautiful? What is it about the tree lined rolling hills of Kentucky farmland that captures my heart? How do the layered, red bluffs of Utah ignite my imagination? Why do the simple woods of Illinois and Missouri beg my hand to write? Why did I envision Nashville as anything other than an unassumingly cool place to be? How is it that I could be so ignorant of such beauty in my own country?

So, though California will remain my first love, I have discovered a deep appreciation for the non-coastal states. What's more, despite it's lack of mountains and ocean, I would not be wholly opposed to living in Nashville if for no other reason than their food is a gift from God. (Seriously though. I don't want to think about how much weight I gained from even a day there.)

As my cross country trip comes to an end, I find that despite days of ten hour drives, filling up for gas two times a day, and listening to hours of alternative punk rock and 90s music, I would absolutely do this again to see more of my amazing, diverse, weird, and wonderful country. 

And I Wouldn't Walk 500 More

I am still enjoying myself, for those of you wondering - I know you're so curious about my life - despite the fact that today is a 700+ mile day through most of Colorado and most of Kansas. Now, for those of you, like myself, unfamiliar with US geography that means that we drove the beautiful, awe inspiring Rocky Mountains along the winding Colorado River through lush, green, pine covered mountain gorges reaching nearly two miles high before getting to Denver where we grabbed sushi and Voodoo Doughnuts before we then got to the endlessly flat, ubiquitous, straight road of the  Great Plains. Imagine my surprise when I realize that once you leave Denver, you've left the Rockies and all mountains behind.

I'll be honest: I was not looking forward to this part. As a So Cal native who lives surrounded by mountains, hills, and trees, who lives half a hour from the beach and an hour from a number of world wide destinations, the idea of driving through nearly the whole of Kansas in a day sounded a bit like hell.

Imagine my surprise then when I realized that  Kansas held its own sort of beauty. What's more, it somehow became more and more beautiful the further in we got. The corn covered flat lands beneath mountain clouds gave way to rolling hills of farmland dotted with trees and wind turbines like silent guardians. It lacks the loud grandeur of the Rockies or the bold majesty of Utah, but it possesses its own strong, soft beauty befitting of America's heartland. 

I thought those 400+ miles through Kansas would be miserable. I'm very happy to be completely wrong. While I Wouldn't walk another 500 miles, I might be content to drive it.

And I Wouldn't Walk 500 Miles

You know the song, "And I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more to be the man who walked 1,000 miles to fall down at your door"? Honestly, if I guy walked even 500 miles to see me, I'd probably marry him on the spot. (Or call the cops. Bit of a toss up.) I can say that because today we drove 500 miles through 4 states to get from Las Vegas to Grand Junction and so I appreciate the vast distance.

Now, not only has the music changed (we listened to "Thoroughly Modern Millie" at one point), but so has the landscape. Gone is the endless desert of harsh, tan crags and sand flats, barren and desolate. Instead, it's been replaced by red and cream colored layer cake bluffs, sometimes dotted with shrubs and pine, that sit under blue skies and Toy Story clouds. Occasionally, there is farmland with winding rivers and cute little homes, but it is predominately majestic red rocks that tower far and above the plateau to create an otherworldly beauty.

And yet it's strangely familiar. It's as if John Wayne or the Lone Ranger will appear any moment on the horizon and whisk you away on some adventure. But no movie, no photo, no jaunt through Street View on Google Maps can prepare you for it. Even though I drove the I-70 as a kid, my memories pale in comparison to the reality of the awesome majesty of God's creation in Utah.

As a single example, I offer Spotted Wolf Canyon. I was driving and so I couldn't grab any pictures, but look it up (though I doubt any picture can capture it) and see for yourself what I'm taking about. It makes Vasquez Rocks look like ant hills. Places like that make the 500 mile drive today worth it. I'm hoping that there will be similarly beautiful things to make tomorrow's 800 mile drive worth it too.

Yep. You heard me right.

800 miles.

Praise the Lord I'm not walking that.

Buckle Up, Simple Plan, We're Going on a Road Trip

Remember back in middle school when Simple Plan was a thing and we all connected with the lyrics, "I'm just a kid, my life is a nightmare" on a level we're embarrassed to admit because we were super uncool and unspeakably lame? Yeah, me neither.

I raise the pimply ghosts of years past because I currently sit next to my sister on a cross country road trip from LA to Nashville listening (and NOT singing, just to clarify) to more alternative punk rock from middle school than I think I've ever actually listened to. I'm taking Green Day, Bowling for Soup, Sum 41, My Chemical Romance, Blink-182, Simple Plan, Good Charlotte--that's right, the classics. No, I don't remember the lyrics to these songs. No, I'm not belting at the top of my lungs. No, I don't have the desire wear enough black eye makeup to look like the Winter Soldier. Why would you think that? 

I mean, there are worse things to listen to for four straight hours for the first leg of the journey to Las Vegas, right? Ah, yes, "Why are you going to Nashville, Sammy?" Glad you asked. I was beginning to feel awfully insecure and broody. (I wonder why.) My sister, Emily, and I are driving her to school in Tennessee. The car is going to stay there with her with the rest of her life that she's packed up in the back and I will hop on a plane back to LA. Of all the ridiculous things I've done this year - including flying from Venice to London, driving to another London airport and flying to Dublin in a single morning mostly by myself - this is higher up on my list of crazy.

The plan is thus: by Monday, drive over 2,000 miles through eight states, the Rockies, five major cities, and over thirty hours of driving with my little sister listening to almost every genre of music except for country and classical. The last time I did a road trip, Lizzie McGuire had finally kissed Gordo and A-Team was the music of choice. You heard me right.

Buckle up. It's going to be an(other) adventure, ladies and gentlemen.

Now, if you don't mind, I have some whiney, teenager angst to listen to and feel wildly misunderstood.