Teleion Holon - Manchester, VT

Today I watched a man cut up a huge oak tree with a chainsaw in Crocs. Crocs!!! When will this madness end? Who the hell leaves the house in these things, let alone wields a chainsaw while wearing them?!!? I'm over this whole Croc thing. What I'm not over is watching him get his chainsaw unstuck from a tree by driving into it with a tractor and also seeing the huge piles of sawdust that end up in his pockets. The things I find funny can only be explained in my head, to me.





Other than that it's been rainy and slow today. I get the feeling Alex does not like it when I sit in the kitchen not contributing while he takes everything apart and organizes the whole damn space. But judging from what happened with the dishes last night, I don't really think it's a good idea for me step in and try to help him. Last night as I started to wash the dishes he told me it was "inefficient" and started filling up the sink with water for me. I told him maybe he should wash the dishes and I would rinse. At moments like these I remind myself of my mother. Why get upset about it? It's not like I was super excited to wash the dishes. I'm happy to let him do it if his way is so much better. So thanks mom, for the patient and passive attitude you passed on to me.

Teleion Holon - Manchester, VT

Oh dear, I've been a bad blogger. I've been a little busy for the past few days. I've made some new friends that I like more than the internet, if that's possible, so the posting has been a bit slow. I started to write something about the cold the other day, but never posted it, because really I'll have all winter to discuss that.

So here's what's been happening recently:
Oliver and Bonnie have been looking to move to a new farm. Where they are now is four acres, spread out on four different properties, none of which they own. Oliver's father owns them all. He's not a tyrant of a landlord, or anything close to it, but farming this way is not efficient and it also doesn't offer them the chance to feel independent or very self-sufficient.

The farm they have been looking at is in Pawlet, about 15 or 20 minutes from here. It's so much bigger than where they are now. Just one of the fields is over twice the size of what they have now. A river goes through part of the property and much of the land is also an entire hillside. There are several barns, a sugar house, and an old farmhouse. All of the buildings would need work and all of the fields used to be used for nothing but corn, so they need quite a bit of work as well. Oliver thinks he can do it. What he's not sure about is raising the money. It's not a cheap farm by any means, but it is a wonderful one, and it's the kind of place they've been looking for.

I went to see the property twice with Oliver. I understand why he's so in love with it. For someone as dedicated to farming and CSAs, it's a perfect farm for him. It's still close to this location, so they can keep their current CSA members, and be close to family. The hillsides are beautiful and Oliver says the soil is amazing. However, it's a lot of work. It would take up all of Oliver's time, which is worrisome because of the baby Bonnie is about to have. This is more than just risking money, it's a risk to his family as well.

In the end, the risks have been assessed. Bonnie is aware that if they get the farm Oliver will not be so available, but she is just as eager to move as he is. Oliver knows that if he doesn't get together enough CSA support he won't be able to afford the mortgage payments. I think they also know that no matter what happens, the people around them will do their best to support and help them, even if they think buying this farm is a bad idea. As for my own opinions, I am undecided. I love this farm. If it were me, I think I would be going just as crazy as Oliver is right now. What a perfect opportunity, at a less than perfect time. Who knows if something like this would come up again? Who knows what this particular farm could do for the lives of everyone involved? The biggest problem with these things is that you can not spend a year thinking about it. You can't try it out and then take it all back if it doesn't work. You have to dive in head first, and that's the scariest part of all. What happens if the farm fails? And is the possible success of the farm, worth risking failure?

Teleion Holon - Manchester, VT

One of the things I have not mentioned much yet is the Wilburton Inn. The inn is owned by Oliver's parents, Georgette and Albert. They occasionally need extra help on busy days and on Saturdays the WWOOFers have the option of going over there to work for some money. I have been roped into doing this for the past two Saturdays (of course roped actually means I was asked nicely, and had no reason to say no). Last week it was buffet breakfast, this week it was a bus lunch. For both meals there was a sense of panic over being shorthanded, but both meals seemed rather easy and calm to me, so I wasn't unhappy doing it.

Today was a bus lunch, which according to Oliver is Bagels Under Salad (B.U.S. Lunch, har har Oliver). It's actually a group of people who come in on a bus for lunch (too obvious I guess). I tried to find out where these people came from and why they were there eating these weird limited menus of chicken or beef?, water or coffee?, apple crisp dessert!, but no one I asked could or would tell me much about it. But I didn't spend a bunch of time asking, everyone always seems so busy that I didn't want to cause any kind of brain aneurysms by suggesting that they stop thinking about how best to freak out for a second.

These people were a bunch of senior citizens. They were a bit grumpy and worried at first, as people tend to be before eating. Wives were ordering for husbands, which always makes me giggle a bit. People changed their orders, which isn't actually as big a deal as the group leader seemed to think it was when she started dictating what they had said they wanted a few days or weeks (who knows, maybe even hours) earlier. Then the food was slopped onto plates in an attempted graceful manor. The chef made us wipe off the splatter from the side of the plates, but it was all such mush it squashed together on the plates on the way out. These people did not seem to care in the least. The scarfed down food happily, occasionally asking for more bread or coffee. Easy as anything. Plus the old men got to give me a hard time, which old men love doing for whatever reason. Yes sir, I am, in fact, nothing but a young whippersnapper and your wisdom is infinite, are you done with your precooked pot roast and vegetable mush so I can take your plate? Great.

By the time they left everyone was cheery and happy and full of food. They took a bunch of pictures, the chef came out and they clapped, I helped clear the tables and reset them for a dinner at 7pm. Easy. I was there for about two hours and people were only there eating for one hour. Why everyone at the inn panics at all times for all events, I'm not really clear. This dinner could not have gone any more smoothly or been any easier, yet the chef and the coordinator were rushing around the whole time as if people were standing at the kitchen door raising hell. If they were it would have made the whole thing infinitely more interesting. Nothing's funnier than old men with pitchforks yelling about cold pot roast.

Teleion Holon - Manchester, VT

Yesterday was an apple picking day. We've got a few people coming to the house for the weekend to take part in a yoga retreat and the person who runs it asked that we have fruit available. The most abundant fruit we have right now are apples. We drove the truck over to the Big White House, where the apple trees grow, and spent a few hours picking apples. Alex hopped on top of the truck while Jos collected the ones that fell to the ground. I climbed into a few of the trees to reach some of the higher apples. Finally a reason to climb on the job. I've been missing that.



After we had picked an insane amount of apples, we hung around on the grass. Max and Sarah began to do some two-person yoga, which prompted Alex to start throwing apples at them from the top of the truck.



This then turned into an apple fight and I can not be blamed for the crack in the windshield of the truck because Alex started the whole thing. Just kidding.



I ate so many apples I got a stomach ache. WELL WORTH IT!

A few days before this apple escapade, Oliver asked Alex to build a sweat lodge for a little party that was planned. No one had ever built one before, but Alex had spent some time in one, so he was put in charge. It actually worked really well. A fire pit was made outside of the sweat lodge and we spent all day heating rocks in the fire and by the time we climbed in there, just having the rock in the lodge made it warm. I highly recommend that anyone with the space, should hurry up and make themselves a sweat lodge. It was the perfect way to end a busy few days. Oliver has been feeling rather stressed so I know it was nice for him to relax. Theo attempted to lead a Vision Quest, but that idea didn't really take off. I think we were all just happy to sit quietly and enjoy the heat.

We spent at least two hours in there. When I finally got out I felt so refreshed and clean. Oliver, Sarah, and Max jumped into the creek and then rushed back into the sweat lodge, which sounded like a great idea while we were in there talking about it, but quickly turned into a terrible idea as soon as I crawled out. The evening air was cold enough I think. It would probably have been the perfect time to take a quick shower with my skin being so open and amazing, but I pretty much just went inside and fell asleep. Mer.

The whole thing kind of reminded me of one of those typical College of Santa Fe gatherings, where some people couldn't wait to take off their clothes, and others were more inclined to stay fully clothed, while several people were somewhere in between, but the whole thing never became an issue. Those kinds of things are always the most comfortable. It kind of gives you an idea of the mix of people here. Maybe we're all idealists who want to grow organic food and sell it locally, but the idea of pushing everyone into the "Dirty Hippie" category really doesn't work. I'd like to really push this point towards my friends in New York.

Spiral Press Cafe - Manchester, VT

It's been a pretty wonderful time here in Vermont so far. The weather is unreasonably nice. I feel like everyone is just waiting for the weather to get stupid-cold. Today when we went out to harvest for the CSA pickup I had to take off my hoodie because it was so warm. And then we stopped and got pumpkin ice cream and cider donuts from the nursery across the street from the greenhouses. Can I just state for the record, one more time, that I LOVE VERMONT. I know it will get colder, much, much colder, but I think I will find my own way of loving that as well.

So what have I been doing? Well I've been picking up buckets of unused food from local resuants to feed to the chickens. I've been harvesting tomatoes, beets, radishes, salad greens, and cabbage. I've been planting garlic. I've been feeding and cleaning up after chickens. I've been picking up Oliver's junk from a tag sale and onions from another farm to give to our own CSA. I've been walking through the woods. I've been celebrating Jewish holidays. I've been hanging out with children. I've been making a few new friends. I've been learning how to play two chords on a guitar (don't ask me which, I'm really not sure I remember them now). I've been driving that crazy Organic Food truck that was made famous to DTF when it crashed into two cars in under a minute. I've been coming to town to use the internet because it's slow at the house. I've been having a pretty great time.

I took a bunch of pictures, some of which I will post when I have them uploaded. I haven't really had a ton of time to do this, because generally when we aren't out working, we find other ways to occupy our time that do not involve the internet (crazy, right?). We cook and eat communally. I love it. Sadly, two of the WWOOFers are leaving this weekend, so it will be much quieter around here. Maybe I'll get better about posting and putting up pictures with all this extra time. Maybe.

Teleion Holon - Manchester, VT

A few days ago, I was nothing but nerves. I was so worried that I had made the wrong choice to leave New York, yet again, after having some promise of work and a solid foundation of friendship. Now that I am here in Manchester, working with these wonderful people, I can't think of why I would have passed up this opportunity just to stay in New York, with the same unfulfilling life I was leading.

The family that runs this place is wonderful. I just got here and I already love them so much. Bonnie and Oliver run the farm. They are good-natured people who care so much about what they do. Their two children Guvra, who is 3, and Talula, who is 1, are two of the most lovable children I've ever met. Guvra is so smart, it's hard to believe he is only 3. You can tell they are not city kids, in that they don't have that automatic distrust of strangers that city children have. The first day I was here Guv informed me that he hoped that I didn't like to work outside so that he would have someone to play with. He then handed me an Obama button. He loves Obama. Talula is just a regular trouble maker. She likes to get into everything and has broken something glass every day that I've been here. Oliver's brother is Max. He's 23, but until today I had him pegged at 26 or 27 (must be the beard). He and Oliver are so close, it makes me a little jealous because I can't get along with my own brother so well.

The food here is beyond yummy. I love going out to harvest, because it means getting the freshest food imaginable. I picked tomatoes the other day and was encouraged to taste them in order to check that they were ripe. I almost didn't get any into the basket they were so good. Today it was arugula, mustard leaves and raspberries. I had never had a mustard leaf before. Better to just chew on it bit by bit then take a big bite. Pretty spicy for something that looks like any other green salad leaf. I also harvested some radishes and they made my hands itchy, which was odd. I'm not allergic to eating radishes, but I apparently have a reaction to harvesting them, which I'm going to ignore.

Chickens! Chickens are not smart at all! I spent some time cleaning out their nests today (ugh), and spend some time everyday putting them back into the pen. They do make yummy eggs though and they are the perfect way to put food waste to good use. Twice a week we go out and pick up food waste from some restaurants around town and then feed it all to the chickens. Hungry little beasts. I like them though, because they do not fly. I will not, however, go so far as to pick them up as Alex does. At least not yet anyway.

I will post more about other WWOOFers and farm friends later. Too tired now. And I don't want to overdo the posting here.

Teleion Holon - Manchester, VT

Amazingly, my ghetto-rigged, duct taped, super glued suitcase made it to Manchester without being much of a hassle. Remind me to never ever buy another article of clothing because I can not drag a heavy suitcase anywhere again in my life.

The bus I was supposed to get on at 10:45 didn't actually exist and the schedule I had was apparently an old one. I called over to the farm and they said they would send someone to pick me up. The people who came to get me were pretty awesome and we ended up eating lunch at Back Home Again before heading out. This gave me a chance to find out more about the situation here at the farm.

Listen, at this point, if they want me to leave this place, they'll have to drag me out. I get my own spacious room, with a window, and my own bathroom. The room even has two beds, so I can have visitors if I want. How is this possible?!!?


The far half of the room


The half I sleep in



The bathroom. Which is mine. All mine. Wow. Last time I had my own bathroom? 3 years ago for 4 months.

Cafe Terra - Rutland, VT

Last night when I got off the train I asked someone in the parking lot where Centre St. was and I must have misunderstood him, because I walked along the street, lugging my suitcase and never saw the place. When I got to a corner I realized I was not on Centre St. I called Back Home Again and explained where I was and that my suitcase had broken, so the person I spoke to came out to meet me. He grabbed my suitcase and I followed him back towards where I had come from. I can not remember his name now, but he was perfectly nice. I was terribly grateful to him for helping me with the suitcase. It was a two minute walk from where I was standing, but it would have taken me at least 15 to lug the suitcase there.

I promptly went to the Walmart and purchased superglue and duct tape for the suitcase.

I headed to the cafe, which is next to the hostel, and sat down to eat some homemade pizza. When I asked which pizza did not have meat on it the three people at the table looked at me with a mixture of awe and pity. I've gotten used to this by now and I laughed it off as I took a slice of the yummy veggie pizza.

I struck up a conversation with the men at the table and told them I had come from New York. They all expressed that they liked it there, but could not live there. One of them had tried and left after six months. He also lived in Tucson, Truth or Consequences, and about a thousand other places. We talked a little about Tucson and New York. All of them were very friendly and smiley.

The oddest thing about these people were that when I was introduced to any woman, I always smiled, but they never smiled back. I only got into conversation with one of them the whole evening and she was perfectly pleasant, but she seemed almost worn down. It was the end of the day, so I really shouldn't think much of it. I'm sure they get people in and out daily, so they don't invest a ton of emotional energy in them.

After dinner I moped the floors and then headed to bed. I really don't think I did much, so I was planning to come back down and offer more help for the morning, but no one is around yet. I walked to the bus station and got schedule. My bus doesn't leave for another hour or so, so I figured I'd grab some chai and give an update. Also, the room I stayed in smells super funky right now and I can't stand to be in there. It is a small, windowless room with three bunk beds and a bathroom. The bathroom doors have all been taken down which is kind of odd, but you can't see the toilet from the bedroom, so it wasn't a huge deal. The other women in the room did not seem at all interested in talking to me, so I fixed my suitcase in silence and climbed into a top bunk for a restless evening.


A view of the front of the place. The door on the left is the shop, the right is the cafe, and the middle leads to the hostel.


The bunk I slept in. It was missing it's ladder, so they had that small wooden guy in place of it.

Somewhere between New York and Rutland

I'm currently sitting on the train to Rutland, VT. The train is scheduled to get in around 9PM, but I don't have high hopes for that. I'll probably get in closer to 11. I'll be staying at this crazy place called Back Home Again. It's a community of people who live by some kind of religious practice. I'm not completely clear on what it is, but from what I gather it seems like some kind of Hippies for Jesus community. They run a cafe and a hostel, which I can stay at for free, for an exchange of two hours of work. If I don't want to work, I can give them $20. If I have time, I'll definitely work. Not only because I'd like to save money, but because I'd love to learn more about these people and how they live. All of my friends from DTF call them a cult. Who knows, maybe they are, but as long as they aren't crazy-freaky-animal sacrificy, I don't really care what they are.

Tomorrow I'm taking public transportation to Manchester, where the people from the farm should be able to pick me up. I haven't confirmed it all completely because I'm not sure what time the bus gets in and where and if I can walk to it easily in Rutland. I hope so. But I'll call the farm later today and see what the deal is.

I stared my day off so well. I woke up a little earlier than my alarm, took a shower, did my laundry, successfully packed all of my shit and had some toast for breakfast. I planned to get into Manhattan by 2 to pick up my check from Keen Company, for the work I did on The Fourposter (Shameless Plug- Go see it, I love it, it's wonderful). I didn't end up leaving The Bronx until 1:45 though, so of course I got in later than I wanted and ended up running around like a crazy person. Had to get to the bank, planned to go to the post office, and I had to pick up my train ticket and print out my absentee ballot application. I didn't make it to the post office. I barely made it to the train. Iggy met up with me and helped me get my bags to the train. Then when I got on the train, all frazzled, I was lifting my bag to put it away, but I missed slightly and hit a bar and broke one of the wheels clean off the bag. ARG! The stupid thing is heavy and I don't know how far I can carry it with my other bag as well. I'm so annoyed at myself for this. I had my bags all nice and arranged so everything was super easy to deal with and then I had to go and break the wheel. Typical.

On a different subject altogether, I finally purchased a camera, as I stated in an earlier post, and here is the first round of pictures. We went out after the first preview last night and I got a pretty amazing picture of all 8 of us. How we all managed to cram in that close and I managed to get an accurate shot, I will never know. The picture is priceless. I'm going to miss these wonderful people so much, but I hope to find new wonderful people on my journeys. Here goes.


Oops, not everyone is in this one.


If at first you don't succeed...

SoBro House - Bronx, New York

I bought a camera today! Yay me! It'll be here in about 2 days, then I have to learn how to use the damn thing, and then I'll post some pictures. I think the last time I owned a camera I was still in junior high.

Also, Kevin got a little obsessed with me writing about "The crazy bitches" in this house. So there you have it. My friends are crazy. And bitches. But I love them and this ghetto house.

Grand Central Station - New York, New York

You know how you always see all those photographs and post cards of the sun coming into Grand Central in the morning, and it looks pretty fantastic? This morning I had a chance to hang out in Grand Central while the sun came up. It doesn't really look like that, but it's nice to just sit on the edges and watch the place fill up with the morning commuters. Maybe it would look like that at the right time of day, if the lights weren't so bright in here. I always thought those pictures were sunrise though because the station is always empty for them. At sunset the station would be packed. But... it's just a photograph, so who knows if it is set up and orchestrated some how. Still, this is such a beautiful building. I never noticed the zodiac signs on the ceiling. Never bothered to look up. Never had an hour to kill so early in the morning.

I've got to head back up to the Bronx, but no one will be up until 8am. My bus got in at 6:30am. I thought it was supposed to go to Penn Station, but it only stopped in Chinatown. Lame. I do not know that area and I had to ask about a thousand people where the train was before I could find it. The trouble with not knowing your way in Chinatown is that no one there speaks enough english to tell you anything.

I'll be so happy to finally put my bags down and sleep in a horizontal position. People should not have to sleep on crowded busses. At least I slept through the whole tunnel. I am not at all a fan of driving through the tunnels. I'll go out of my way to take a bridge. Driving through a long tunnel like that just doesn't seem safe to me. For some reason I have no issues with the train going underwater to leave Manhattan, but I can't deal with a car doing it. Or, more accurately, hundreds of cars all at once. I'd much rather not do it. Like taking an elevator for less than 4 floors; I'd rather take the stairs, because elevators seem like a bad idea. It's rather odd, because I certainly consider myself a risk taker. I have no issues doing something unsafe 50 feet above the stage floor, rock climbing, caving, or running into traffic, but drive through a tunnel when I don't have to? No thanks. What an enigma.

Between Charlotte, NC and Richmond, VA

When I took the bus down to South Carolina on Monday the craziness of the whole ordeal got me talking to some of the passengers. I sat next to a woman named Robin. She was on her way back to Atlanta from Maine, where she had just buried her mother. She was an older woman, but she had no home and was staying with her son. She used to have a husband and a steady job, but she divorced him a few years ago, and then was laid off. Suffice to say, she had seen better times. I told her about what I was doing and the farm job I had lined up. She said she had been thinking of doing something like that, but she didn't know where to look. I gave her the WWOOF website and told her that it was worth the $20. She seemed excited and I hope she uses it. Who knows, maybe I'll bump into her again. I'm a little annoyed with myself for not getting her email address.

I am now back on a Greyhound bus. I'm heading back to Richmond to see Cory for a second and then leave for NY on a Chinatown bus at 1am. This Greyhound experience has been a lot like the last one, in that it sucks. The bus took off thirty minutes late, but this was understandable because the weather was pretty bad. We were running about an hour behind when the bus suddenly turned around 60 miles north of our last stop, Greensboro, NC. One of the passengers had gone up to the front of the bus, talked to the driver, and without explanation, the bus turned around. Finally one of the other passengers asked what the hell was going on. The driver told us he was going back to Greensboro to drop off that passenger that he had been talking to, and then we would turn back and drive straight to Richmond without making any stops. He expected we would get there on time, which should have been 5:20pm.

When we got back to Greensboro he dropped that passenger off at a rental truck place, not the bus stop. If I had known this bus was actually a cab maybe I would have asked to be taken to the Bronx instead. Lame. I have no idea why that guy did not get off the bus the first time we were in Greensboro, or what he said to the driver that made him turn around and drive back an hour and drop someone off at a place that was not even a real bus stop. It is now 5:50 and it has started raining again. We're not in Richmond. We're not even in VA yet.

The one good thing that has happened because of all this is that suddenly everyone on the bus is chatting with one another. The three people in front of me were talking about conspiracy theories for hours and have just changed to relationship advice. The people in the back of the bus are playing music. This young dude in a leather jacket walked up to me while at a rest stop and said something I could not understand. I asked him to repeat it and I still couldn't understand it. I was worried that it was his accent and I really didn't want to be a jerk about it. I told him that I was sorry, but I could not understand him. He said "Oh, I'm sorry, you don't speak Russian? I thought you did." I laughed it off. Now I would like to know what it was that he said, but he is several rows in front of me, talking to the elderly southern woman next to him. Maybe he's getting off in Richmond and I'll have time to ask him about it while I wait for Cory.

I wonder what made him think I spoke Russian? I know people often try to place my heritage, but no one has ever assumed I spoke another language based solely on what I look like. Interesting.

Grandma's House - Simpsonville, SC

Aaaaaand I'm in Greenville. Well no, I'm in Simpsonville, a little urban sprawl town right outside it. Oh suburbs, I'll never be comfortable here.

There is really nothing around here but houses. I went for a walk yesterday, just to see what it was like around here. Houses. A school. More houses. No bus, no store, not even a sidewalk. Lots of trees, but no trails. Private, private property. I didn't wander about too much, don't want to get shot at by any gun-toting ex-yankees in houses so big they don't know what to do with them. Giant houses on little plots all set right up on the road.

I called my cousin and he came and picked me up. He lives about 45 minutes from my grandmothers, so I was very grateful. There's not much to do in Greenville, but at least there are things to look at. We walked around the downtown area. Got gelato. I'm boring myself here and I wish I had something amazing to report, but I don't. I'm not sure why anyone would want to live here. There's not much culture or history. Well, maybe there used to be, but it appears that all the old buildings have been torn down to make way for shopping centers and fake waterfalls.

The day ended with a rousing game of Parchisi. I almost won, BUT MY UNCLE CHEATED. That's not true, he's not a cheater, I just stink at Parchisi. Picking up my mother today. She'll school everyone at that game. Oh. Statements like that one are what make SC so boring. I'm going to go out now and spray paint "Barock the Vote" in the streets, that should rouse things up a bit.

Between Richmond, VA and Greenville, SC

Backstory: I have been planning to go down to SC to visit my grandmother in her new home and surprise her. My mother planned to fly out and meet me so we could surprise her together. The plan was, I would take a Greyhound into Charlotte and she would fly. I would get there a few hours before her and take public transportation to the airport so that we could be picked up together and I wouldn't have to hang out in a greyhound station.

Wow. Wow. Oh my ridiculous travels. I'm in day two of my bus trip down to SC and oh my God how did this happen!?!? Yesterday I called my mother to check in and see what time we were getting picked up by my uncle, and I find out that I had the whole trip planned around the wrong day. My mother is not coming in until Wednesday which means I didn't have anyone to pick me up from Charlotte until then. I frantically called my uncle and then purchased another bus ticket that would take me from Charlotte (about 2 hours from their place) to Greenville (about 15 minutes from their place). The ticket didn't cost much, so it wasn't a huge deal, but it's a good thing the bus goes there at least. I finally spoke to my uncle and he'll be able to pick me up. *phew*

Right, don't sigh in relief quite so fast Krysta, you know how your luck runs. I would say that part of the reason I'm such a resourceful person is because of all the crazy shit that always seems to happen in my life. As soon as I think a situation is fixed, something stupid almost always happens to make it worse.

So what happened? Well, the bus showed up an hour late to Greyhound because it had broken down. It didn't leave for another hour after that. The driver, who I think might be a bit crazy, spent a great deal of time yelling at passengers for no apparent reason. Then, as I thought we might be making up some time, he got lost. One of the passengers managed to give him directions, and we are now running two and a half hours late. AWESOME!

But wait, it gets better! My connecting bus leaves at 3:30, we were supposed to be in at 2:30. Not going to make it now though. The ticketing woman told me that the bus I am on is the one that goes to Greenville, and it has the same route number. If that is the case, then I should have nothing to worry about. However (and there's always a however), the bus driver told me that this bus is not going to Greenville. So who knows! Not me! Maybe there's another bus leaving to Greenville a little later, but at this rate we might not get into Charlotte until next week.

SoBro House - Bronx, New York

Today was my first trip ever to Coney Island. I'm not sure how it is possible that I grew up in NY and I never came here, but I think it has something to do with my parents not loving me enough. Wow. I love it!! I'm so sad that they are ripping it all down! People talk about how run down and gross it is, but it's not really. It's just not updated like the rest of this city. But why would anyone want to update a place like this? I feel like it's classic. There are old arcade games, old rides, old boardwalks, old people... wait, no actually, it was mostly young people.

I guess I'm a little obsessed with the way things used to be in NY before a bunch of mayors came in and insisted on making everything so commercial. I like the older stuff. I would not have minded walking into Times Square and seeing a smut theatre where Mary Poppins now stands. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to put my values in theatre below smut, but as far as theatre goes, Mary Poppins is not it, and I'm not sure that Disney should even own any Broadway houses.

The wonderful thing about Coney Island is that it's a bunch of independent people who have set up shop there and run their own things. It's not just one big Astroland, it's a bunch of little parks with a handful of rides, and Astroland is one of them. Then there are a bunch of carnival games and arcades. One of those games is Shoot the Freak. Oh my god! How genius is a guy in padding running around while being shot by idiots with a paint ball gun and a $20 bill? Sadly, no one was playing while I was there, so I didn't get to see the action.

I did however, throw 25 cents into a fortune telling machine and got my fortune for the month of November. I'm pretty sure these things would be 50 cents anywhere else, so how could I pass up that kind of deal? The fortune was of course complete crap, but who buys those things for anything other than novelty?

Sadly The Cyclone was closed and I was not able to go on it. But it's a registered historical mark, so it won't be torn down with the rest of Coney Island. I hope it keeps running so I can eventually go on it. I love coasters, how have I never been on the world's most famous one, which was so close to my childhood home? You better believe I'm going to call my parents and accuse them of nothing short of child abuse by never taking me here.

Bushwick House - Brooklyn, NY

Are you aware that the Guggenheim has pay-what-you-wish Friday Nights? I was not! How awesome is that? I went down there with Ceora to see the exhibit: Louise Bourgeois. I had never heard of this woman, but her work is amazing. She's been producing art for almost a century and the Guggenheim had her work set out in chronological order around the spiral.

Ceora and I started from the top, the most recent, because the place was so crowded at the bottom. I would also rather start from the most current and work backwards when it comes to art because it seems so much more logical to me. You can get a sense of how the artist expresses herself now and then see what lead up to it. It just works out better in my head.

Well this woman is amazing. I you happen to be in NY, you should probably make a point of checking her out. It's sculptural, and sexual, and textural and you can tell she has an amazing sense of humor. The whole I was there I was picturing her making these pieces and chuckling to herself. They're incredibly powerful. I couldn't get over how heavy and grounded each piece looked, but they all also had a feeling of being so delicate and quiet.

Anyway, if you can check it out, you should. It's worth your time.

Bushwick House - Brooklyn, NY

I went back to the Metropolitan to see the Goya paintings. Love them, love them, love them! They have more now than they had last time and they took that silly bowl of fruit painting out of the room, which was not a Goya and really didn't go with what was in there. Now it's only Goya in that gallery. I only wish I could see his black paintings and the Third of May again. Someday.

While I was in there, staring, drooling, beside myself, some guy walked up and took a picture of these cats that are in the bottom corner of one of Goya's portraits. Odd. No idea what that was all about, but the guard in that room and I had a silent giggle exchange. After about a million years in the room, I finally left. Don't worry Goya, I'll be back again!

Last night I got into a conversation with someone about how I had never been to Wall St, or seen that damn stock market bull sculpture. She told me that I really needed to get on that, because how could I say I was a native New Yorker, if I had never taken the time to see my own city? Well it's true, but I've never had the time. I do now that I'm not working at the moment. So off to Wall Street with me, with a trip to Battery Park, because I love that park. The southern tip on Manhattan has always been a favorite spot of mine. I love how much history is down there.

Of course the Wall St. area was full of news vans. That area is hurting right now and the media is all over it. I didn't actually see anyone reporting, and other than hoards of people walking around, the area was uneventful. I do love the historic buildings and streets though. I wandered around for a while because I didn't know exactly where the bull was. Finally found it. It's bigger than I thought. And there were tourists taking pictures grabbing its balls. Hm. Figures.

After that I saw a few more memorials in Battery Park and went over to the world trade center. Not much to say. I have a hard time with the juxtaposition of tower wreckage and all the people rushing about like nothing happened. But what could I expect? People still have jobs, they still need to get from point A to point B and that's the nature of NY. It's been 7 years. No one has forgotten, but people get back into the swing of things. I guess if I was down there everyday I would too. But I'm not, so it's still a bit tricky for me.

SoBro House - Bronx, New York

I spent five hours at the Metropolitan Museum of Art today. Wow. I didn't even get to see everything I wanted to see, so I need to pop back in tomorrow for a bit. I've never been able to see a great deal of what's in there because I never get to go alone and see it all at my own pace. I've been there many, many times, but always with other people, most whom don't want to spend an hour in the arms and armor section. Clearly these people do not know what is good for them.

The day started in true Krysta style. I had a bag of plantain chips in my bag as a snack for later, and a glass Snapple bottle that I use for water. The security guards at the front doors told me that I would have to finish my food outside and I could not bring glass into the museum. Not even if I planned to dump my bag into the bag check. I didn't want to eat my food then, or throw away my water bottle, so I put the food in the front pocket, which no one ever checks (a good thing, considering I usually have my knife in there), and then tried my luck with another security guard. Some people are just hard asses, and I was not about to throw away my food just because one security guard told me to. I picked one that was right in front of the bag check and he let me in without any problems, but told me to check my bag. Logic? What?

In my five hours there I began to have a dilemma. First of all, I'm not so sure it's a good idea to keep works of art all crammed together in a museum. Its hard to appreciate each work as unique when it's right next to another amazing and equally distracting piece of art. I also don't think it reaches as many people of different backgrounds as it should. How many blue collar New Yorkers ever go to the Met? Does a political painting mean the same thing when taken out of its home country? I think maybe part of seeing the work is seeing the place it was painted in and for. Art in context, what a crazy idea!

Don't get me wrong, I love being able to see so many of my favorite pieces of art in one place. I just wonder if the work would have a different affect on me if i was to see it elsewhere. I love seeing Calder and Koons sculptures as I walk around the city. They were made to be put there, so it works somehow. It's an amazing thing to turn a corner and discover a work of art you did not know was there. I think art has changed since museums became such a big deal. I wonder if pop art would have been the same without museums.

My other major issue with museums is the display of burial art. I am quite certain that the people in ancient cultures who spent their lives preparing for death never wanted their urn, sarcophagus, mummy, commissioned art whatever on display in a New York museum. I'm not really comfortable with the idea of someone's remains being made into art without their permission. I struggle with this though, because I understand the need for preservation. If everything was kept buried, some ass would eventually dig it up and exploit it in some way. I also think it's creepy how much value people put into a dead body. The idea that Alexander the Great may have actually had his body entombed in honey to preserve it, is just crazy to me. Nevertheless, I think it is important to honor the wishes of the dead, and I don't think the art world is super concerned with that.

All of the above being said, I had a wonderful and dizzying day of art. I got kicked out of the museum for closing right as I was walking into the Goya room. Curses! Save the best for last, and end up staying past closing time. Goya, I would go to Spain for you, so I guess I can just come back tomorrow. Save Spain for another day. Not sure I'd be able to hitchhike over the ocean anyway.

Nick's Apartment - Reston, VA

One of the things I checked out in DC was the Vietnam Memorial Wall. I've been a little obsessed with this wall since college because I think it is an amazing design. The designer, Maya Ying Lin won an anonymous contest with her idea, while she was still in grad school, and fought to defend her design for years. Many veterans saw it as morbid, or a sign of shame, because it was black.

Being there in person, I never got that feeling. It's quite amazing. You can tell the wall was made for the living, in order to honor the dead because it is such an interactive experience. Seeing myself reflected behind the names, and being able to touch them, changes the idea of the traditional memorial. In most cases, you can not touch a piece of art, but this memorial encourages the visitor to do so.

I admit that I am a bit fixated on memorials in general. I'm not quite sure why I find them so powerful. I know that is what they are supposed to do, but I don't know anyone who ever had cause to be given a memorial. I don't know any of the names on the Vietnam Wall. I don't know anyone who died in the Korean War (another amazing memorial in DC), I don't even know anyone who died in the current war. That doesn't change the fact that these memorials affect me. Perhaps because I value life so much, seeing all those names up there, it didn't matter that I was never connected to anyone up there, it's still such a horrible waste of life. These memorials should serve as a reminder that there is a high price to war and we are still paying it, even as we fight this new one. But I guess the president doesn't make many trips out to his own front lawn to remember any of this.

This trip to Washington DC has been interesting. It's my second time in this city but I still have no idea where I'm going. However, I got to see the two things I really wanted to see and I managed to find a new artist to drool over.

I went there to visit my friend Nick, who you may remember as the person who drove me out to Vermont. He came to visit once over the summer and somehow ended up leaving with my Ace Hardware shirt (AKA the most awesome shirt IN THE WORLD and I know he stole it on purpose because he wishes he could wear it). Of course I had to get it back, and because he refused to send it to me, I had to go down there and get it. Not such a bad idea for someone looking for any excuse to bum around.

The weekend started off by waking up late. I'm not much of a sleeping in kind of person, but I enjoyed a slow morning. The only down side being that Nick does not keep food in his house, and I like to eat breakfast. Men. So we went out and had tapas for lunch. Yummy yummy tapas. With goat cheese. How could I decline goat cheese? Nick will disagree with me here, but tomato and watermelon is a yummy combination. When ordering at a new place, I find it's always best to trust the chef and not make substitutions except in the case of dietary needs. I am never disappointed. They wouldn't put it on the menu if it wasn't yummy.

We then rolled on over to the portrait Gallery. I'm not really into portraits of people who are long dead and I've never heard of, but they had some other cool stuff there as well. There was an artist who does Hip-Hip portraits, which were amazing. And what you will need to do is check out Kehinde Wiley right away. The other person That needs checking out is Nam June Paik who I mistook for Bruce Nauman (who I am madly in love with) at first. I love this guy! How amazing is a florescent map of the USA filled with TVs, each with different movies and images that represent the states?!?!? AH!

We headed over to The Kennedy Center after that for their annual open house. We caught a step show, put on by Step Afrika! the worlds only professional dance group dedicated to step. In all honesty I was not that interested in seeing this show, but once it started it was pretty cool. There were a bunch of college groups performing, and one of them was amazing. I guess when it comes down to it, I'm a sucker for a good show, no matter what's on the stage and these guys were great. I probably wouldn't turn down another free step show if given the chance.

After the step show we went outside to see Chuck Brown, DC's Godfather of Go-Go. It was pretty fun. I love watching old white guys (or just Nick)dance to hip-hop. It made me miss my friends from DTF. They would have rocked out all too happily.

Sunday was a great day. Another late start, but I was able to check two things from my list of "Things to See Before I'm Too Old to Care." One being the National Museum of the American Indian. This isn't normally the kind of thing I would go out of my way to see. I'm interested in various cultures and religions, but not enough to make a special trip.

The reason I wanted to see this place so badly was because of the architecture. So much planning and collaboration went into the building of this museum, that I had to see it. It was Designed by Douglas Cardinal and a team of Native architects from different areas of the Americas. The outside of the building is just as much a work of art as what is inside. We spent some time walking around the building before heading inside, which was just as amazing as the outside. I adore when interior spaces flow into each other, and when you can have a sense of the exterior shape from the interior. What an amazing building. I should have been an architect, or at least a design student. But I say that about everything I'm interested in.

More to come later.