My Life as a German Tourist

In a couple of days we hope to meet up with my old parkie friends Diane and Harvey for lunch in Yellowstone, as they head west to east toward Gillette and we head north to south from Glacier to the Tetons. Diane joked with me that I have spent so much time in Europe that my travel habits now resemble that of a German tourist, hopping from park to park, snapping pictures along the way. I have a few things to say about that.

First of all, if she thinks we’re bad with the parks, she should have seen us zigzagging around the Midwest picking up my missing states!

Second of all, I met two Europeans—a Romanian and a Dutch—who have the dream of coming to the States and retracing Route 66. There is something to what Diane said. And it brings to mind my favorite road-myth-deconstructor and all-around explorer and exposer of the post-modern American psyche, filmmaker Wim Wenders. Ie, he has a lot of interesting things to say about the stories we tell ourselves. He made a great movie back in the 70s called Alice in the Cities. It’s about a German man, a journalist I think, who travels all over America trying to find America. He then, inadvertently, ends up going home and driving all over Germany and does, in the end, find something valuable in that. What are we looking for? What do we find?

Americans love the open road, and Europeans are curious, confounded, jealous, and awed at our pursuit, if I may paint such generic broad strokes. I know that in my time as a European, I have craved the road trip. And now, almost with relief, I find myself on a full-blown 3000-miles-in-a-week road trip. I have a trusty vehicle (who still needs a name), a most worthy traveling companion in my dad, and a great unknown future, as wide and open as the Dakota sky.

And yes, we have our checklists. In no particular order:

Wildlife seen: bald eagles, bighorn sheep, bison, pronghorn, prairie dogs, pheasant, mountain goats, black bear, grizzly, turtle, Clark's nutcracker, roadkill porcupine and fox, coyote, herons, ducks of all kinds, mule deer, possibly a peregrine falcon.

National Parks visited: Badlands, Mount Rushmore, Theodore Roosevelt, Glacier—still to come: Yellowstone, Grand Tetons, Great Basin.

New states for my list: Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota—bringing me to 49 (Oh, Oregon, how elusive you have been).

New states for Dad’s list: South Dakota—bringing him to 49 (look out Wyoming, you’ll make 50!)

Susie and Pan, Peace Corps friends, hosted us in Mackinaw City.

Stopped in for lunch in Wynot, Nebraska—the town that answers its own question. We’d seen a field of milo missing its heads on the way into town. Turns out they’d had a destructive hailstorm the day before. We’ve lucked out and had fantastic weather the whole way out.

Sheep in the Badlands. We started out by seeing one curled up like a dog, sleeping on a rocky pinnacle. After we pulled off the road, another ten or so appeared over a ridge and came down by the road.

Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota preserves prairie land and more badland-type landscape. The wildlife viewing was rich—bison, pronghorn, and multiple prairie dog villages.

We thoroughly enjoyed South Dakota, assisted by a bit of extra time we’d picked up. We hit it all—the Corn Palace, Wall Drugs, the Badlands, the Black Hills, large-scale rock art, lunch in Deadwood, and a full appreciation of the stunning landscape of the Great Plains.

We took the Red Jammer tour in Glacier and it was worth every penny. Stunning trip up over the Going to the Sun Road, which I would not have enjoyed driving. Our tour guide Norm was extremely professional and offered multiple perspectives on park history and issues and a good background on fire ecology.

On we go, heading south for an oil change and some much anticipated catching up with dear friends. Yes, Diane, it may be a bit of a rushed trip. But it's my rushed trip and I'm going to enjoy every moment of it.

Celebrating. And Moving On.

I've been in the States a bit over a week and have enjoyed immensely catching up with old friends and spending time with my dear family. The most formal event was our Romania party on Saturday. My mother hosted and my sister helped cook. We served mici, stuffed peppers, and other traditional Romanian dishes. And we had a rousing round of Romanian Jeopardy.

Importantly, too, we raised hundreds of dollars for my friend Olga in Tulcea to take Matei to Italy for his leg surgery in September. Much thanks to my very generous friends and family. It's not too late get involved. If you would like, you may send a check made out to NOROC to

NOROC
Attn: Carolyn White
200 Hedges Road
Abilene, TX 79605

In the memo line write, "This is a donation to go into the NOROC special account for Matei Pricop."

Time has moved very quickly since I left the retreat in France. Between greeting America, acquiring a new vehicle, and planning the upcoming road trip, I've tried to stay mindful of the precious moments I'm having with my family. So much of my future is unknown, as I still haven't landed a job. But the trade-off is this time, now.

Tomorrow morning Dad and I light out for parts west. First stop Mackinaw City to see Peace Corps Susie. Then destination Montana. In the end I'll find my way to California. And as exciting as it is to simply be on American soil, I know I will breathe a big sigh of dry air beyond the hundredth meridian and truly be home--Powell, Stegner, millions of others, and me.

I don't know what the future holds, but I'm not worrying too much. I have a date with the Corn Palace, and today that is enough.

Paris

Not everyone would think to recover from the crush of communal humanity by hanging out in a city of twelve million people. But here I am. I find a wonderful anonymity in a city like this, especially when I can barely speak the language. Yes, I love Paris. It is many years, even decades, since I was here. I'm glad to be back.

I was going to try and write a long blog post today about suffering, and the work we did at the retreat to deal with our own suffering and the suffering of the world. But I find that when one is in Paris, one should just be in Paris. I'm exhausted, so my agenda is very light today. I arrived by train yesterday, and I fly out tomorrow. But since this is indeed Paris, I can't swing the proverbial dead cat without hitting a museum or a cafe, so I have enjoyed both. I chose the cheapest hotel I found on the internet in my desired neighborhood and I have a delightful little room--quiet, clean, and JUST ME!!

I'm now in my room enjoying the wifi and ignoring for the day the emails, both wonderful and tedious. I will have a nap in my little room, overlooking other back windows. Later I'll go out for dinner, up the hill by Sacre Coeur. I wanted to get my hair cut but didn't have luck. Maybe tomorrow in Reykjavik. Yes, tomorrow I will have my breakfast in Paris, my lunch in Reykjavik, and my dinner in New York.

If you think I am lucky, you are right. If you think I am blessed, you are right.

I am moved to recall Hemingway's quote for Paris, which for me is a description of New York, but here it is: "If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast."