Final Thoughts

Many months ago, when I officially received funding from my school and knew that I would be traveling, most people's first question was, "Who are you going with?" From the beginning, I knew that I would probably be going it alone; very few employed twenty-four year olds have jobs that allow them to have a true summer vacation. I would be lying if I said I did not feel self-conscious or worried about this. As I mentioned in a previous post, I've never been known as adventurous or daring. I've always been comfortable following my own path; I let others be veer off course, and then, if I feel like tagging along, I do so. However, this trip really did not make that a viable option. I could either sit on my ass in the hotel or I could stand up and make myself explore, see what I hadn't seen before and do things that I'd never done. If you've been reading along, hopefully you can tell that I attempted the latter. Over the course of this trip and in its aftermath, I've realized many things.

First and foremost, I've come to appreciate the presence of history in almost every corner of the Southern United States. Although, I did a great deal of driving via highway, I also spent numerous hours driving the backroads of Virginia and North Carolina. While wandering these roads was a painstaking and frustrating process – I kept thinking to myself, “Can't they build highways around here? It would make travel time so much faster!” - these routes exposed me to pieces of history that, otherwise, I might never have seen. The roads were, every so often, dotted by tall metal plaques, situated much like a stop sign would be. Each plaque shared and explained a piece of history relevant to the area or site on which it was located. The frequency of these plaques, along with the number of historical landmarks that I passed and visited was impressive and, in my opinion, speaks to a deeply rooted appreciation of the past amongst Southern people. While many qualities of Southern living make me shake my head and wonder, this is an aspect of Southern culture that I have come to truly admire, and one that caused me to take a closer look at my own home.

Since completing this journey, I realized that, as an adult, I have not done much exploring in my own neck of the woods. As a child, I visited many historical sites: Boston, Mystic, Essex, Sturbridge, the Newport mansions. However, most of these trips were years ago and my capacity for appreciating the full extent of their historical value was probably quite limited. As it stands, I am aware these places exist, but I cannot recollect my experiences with them, and that does not sit well with me. I spent eleven days exploring four states: Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia, and even then I missed so much in these places: Fredericksburg, Savannah, Charlotte, Lynchburg, Kitty Hawk, Richmond, etc. It's a little disappointing to see how much I missed. On the other hand, it also cries out to me as a challenge. If there is so much to see and absorb in these five states, there must be so much more within the entire nation! While this idea is overwhelming at times – is seeing everything American even possible? - I, nonetheless, am inspired by its magnitude and have adopted it as my mission over the next several years to see all that I can.

Work begins in several weeks, which obviously limits my ability to travel. Thus, I will have to put off any extensive trips or far-away locations until next spring or summer. But I have promised myself that until then, at least one weekend a month, I will find a place, somewhere in New England or New York and explore, continue to discover, and continue to push myself, to see what exactly it is that I am capable of. I don't know if I'll have that opportunity several years down the road. So, never fear faithful readers, there will be more of me and my adventures in the coming months! Thank you all for joining the ride. xox

The End

This was it folks - the last official day of adventure! Tomorrow, I head north to Connecticut; I have a 6 am wake-up and a thirteen-hour drive ahead of me. Woooohoooooooo! So, what did I do on my last day? Well, if you've been reading along, you'll know I am in Asheville, NC - another possible spot for the parents' retirement home. Although I did get to check-out downtown Asheville (which is chalk full of shops, restaurants, and art galleries), I spent the majority of my day enjoying the Blue Ridge mountains of North Carolina.

If you had to describe me, I doubt the first...second...or third word would be "outdoorsy". In fact, I'm not even sure that it would cross anyone's mind at all. Contrary to popular belief though, I do happen to have a great appreciation for nature and the outdoors. I often forget this about myself, which I suppose is why others don't readily see it. Luckily, yesterday, when browsing my travel books and the hotel's brochures about Asheville, I came across multiple ads for Chimney Rock Park. The park, located 45 minutes from Asheville, is home to multiple trails winding up a mountainside where a lovely little movie called "The Last of the Mohicans" was filmed. Thus, when I came upon those ads, that little corner of my being that loves bright sunshine, greenery and clean mountain air stirred, and I made it my mission to conquer Chimney Rock. I should add that I hate heights. I don't have a debilitating fear. For example, I don't start to hyperventilate or faint after climbing a few stairs, but this may be because I've mastered specific breathing techniques and eyesight lines to prevent both from happening.

Well, what happened? I spent two hours climbing Chimney Rock with no one else's help and with no one else's encouragement. I forgot to bring a second shirt (apropo if you're the daughter of Alex Rosten) and I only had Converse as footwear. While none of this may not seem like a big deal, once you see the photos of the mountain and the wooden stairs I had to climb, I think you will be impressed. Even if you're not, at the end of the day, I reached an elevation of 2, 480 ft. without giving up, and I can say that I am extremely proud of myself.

Athens and Hot-lanta

Good morning all! So, I have a great deal to catch up on. When you last heard from me, I was in the city of Charleston. Since then, I've moved on through Athens, Georgia and Atlanta, Georgia and I am about to venture into Asheville, NC.

I arrived in Athens late Saturday evening and spend Sunday there as well. I was staying with a friend from college (aka Stuart) who goes to school at the University of Georgia (UGA). When I was planning my trip, I didn't anticipate or plan for the inherent nature of Sundays - everything is closed and everyone is content to sit and around and relax. Therefore, most businesses and local hang out spots were not open during my stay. However, this worked out to be a blessing as I was able to observe what people really did with their time as opposed to being absorbed by the more touristy aspects of the city.

Although it is flooded with major prepsters throughout the school year (this is what I was told by others), the people of Athens are predominantly an earth-friendly, hipster crowd. This was apparent in several ways. As my friend showed me around, he pointed out local community gardens and co-ops; we ate at a restaurant called "farm" that only used locally grown foods; Stuart and his friend spent the day creating their own furniture out of supplies they'd found in the area, and the streets were scattered with loitering musicians and dotted by small clubs and joints within which local talent shared their creativity. In spite of the MASSIVE football stadium sitting at the heart of UGA, Athens itself was a crunchy, down-to-earth place that encouraged simple living. My last comment, before I move on to Atlanta, is, in some ways, breaking news. Apparently, I HAVE AN ACCENT!

Sunday evening, Stuart and I ate dinner with several of Stuart's friends. I was talking with a couple of the girls, when one of them stopped to say, "You know you don't even have that much of an accent!", as if to say, "You definitely do have an accent, but for a Northern, it's not that bad!" I almost laughed aloud when she said this, because I, in turn, wanted to say, "No, no no...haven't you heard? It's you who has the accent!" Overall, the experience was a funny one, but it, once again, gently reminded me that not everyone, especially in the South, thinks from my perspective.

...on to Atlanta!

In Atlanta, I made two major stops, but I would like to speak to only one of them here - my time at the MLK Jr. historic site. I learned about Martin Luther King Jr. in school, and I've always admired his beliefs and aligned them with my own. I'd like to think that if I had lived back in the sixties, I would have supported such a man. Yesterday, however, I more deeply realized what King was about and was moved beyond words. In fact, I found myself constantly trying to hold back tears. Maybe it's because I'm older now, but what this man risked for the sake of what he could never truly know would come about was staggering.

He not only believed in a cause, but he acted on it without hesitation, day in and day out. I believe many of us like to assume that we have strong values and that we live by them each and everyday. I know I do. However, the images of buses being bombed, of people being hosed by police, of food and drink being thrown at others simply sitting at a counter took on new meaning. These people had lives beyond these images. They have parents, siblings, friends, and children. They were places where they could be safe and happy. Yet, Martin Luther King, who had many of these things himself: a wife, four children, a job he enjoyed, did not accept this to be enough and inspired others to rally behind his cause.

I am not yet a parent, but I do know that my own parents would do anything to ensure my safety and happiness and that of my siblings. I cannot assume what went through the head of a man like Martin Luther King, but I can imagine that he would have had the same sentiment towards his own sons and daughters. Yet, he continued to speak out, to make a name for himself, to expose himself to situations that were beyond his control. He took the chance that his children might grow up without a father. He took the chance that they themselves would be put in harms way, and yet I can find no fault with his actions. While standing there in the middle of a museum exhibit, I only felt awe. Can I say that I would do the same for what I believe in? I would like to think so, but at the end of the the day, I really can't be sure. Can you?

(Picture: The UGA football stadium. It sits 90,000 people!)