… I landed in Atlanta, GA, from Romania and then
Amsterdam. And although I have occasionally looked back, I have never, ever considered, not even for a second, to ever return to my
homeland, after I realized that living here was possible.
And 17 years feels and sounds like a lifetime. Much has
been lost and gained. Much has been lived, most of all.
Lived in 3 states and 6 homes. Worked for 5 companies.
Switched careers more times than I can count …
Climbed The Twin Towers in NYC that are now gone forever.
Climbed The Smokies and The Rockies. Ate gumbo in New Orleans and chowda in
Boston. Cooked turkeys for Thanksgiving and watched baseball and fireworks for
July 4. I’ve watched the sunsets in Key West and Waikiki Beach, and sunrises on
Monument Valley and bison roam in Yellowstone.
I married twice. Raised kitties. Became an aunt twice.
Welcomed my family into my new life. Got bruised many times, and stood up and
walked again.
Got my citizenship and I cried. I cried a lot in these
years!
Made friends and lost some, too. I still say my prayers
in Romanian, and I write my mom every day. I am still looking forward to my
adventures and I still feel like a foreigner. I feel like an intruder, to some
extent, and I feel like a guest when I visit back “home”. Where is “home”? I do
not know. And I do not care. Home is this planet that welcomes me, every day.
No matter the latitude of my being.
Every year, on this day, I pause, I stop breathing under
the weight of realizing this miracle that my life has been. And I pray that every
one of you knows what a miracle your lives are – every second of every day,
with every accomplishment or loss, which are, in fact, neither. But simple
lessons and simple days passing, making a lifetime for each one of us.
These are some of the first pictures I took on American land, in Myrtle Beach, SC - my first American home. In a lot of ways, I will forever be looking across The Atlantic, for the first half of my heart to complete me.
“It’s something unpredictable/
But in the end it’s right”.
So, you probably knew this might be coming, given my recent flying trip. And I will have to say, overall, the trip was relatively uneventful, if you’re not counting the milk spill of the lady sitting next to me all over my right (black jean-ed) leg. But some observations I do have.
I was really looking forward to it, given all the hubbub over The Holidays about the new security measures and scans, and people arrested for fighting them, and all …
Well, the new security “measures” were not all that bad. Actually, they were not at all that … different. I have flown before September 11, and AT September 11 (which found me abroad for two weeks), and after September 11. And this time was no different than many of the flights after The WTC attacks.
The Salt Lake City airport had the “all body scan” option, but it had that in the fall of 2009, too. Nothing new there. What they can see on the other end, I choose not to think about. If they get giggles out of it, they need a life and it’s a matter too small to make me lose sleep over it.
If you “minded” the all body scan, which some people did, you were given the option to be “given a thorough pat down”. That didn’t “look” any different than any pat downs I have gone through before, when the metal detector beeped because I had too much jewelry on. Not sure how it felt, since I didn’t mind the scan and went through with that.
The Montreal airport had nothing. No all body scans. No “thorough pat downs”. You went through the metal detecting arch and you were free to go, if you didn’t beep. No extra jewelry on me this time, so I was clear.
So, despite the hype, I felt neither violated, nor embarrassed in any way, but as you see … I don’t think much of who sees what at the other end of the scanner … I just take is as normal protocol. After all, when human is against the system, the system always wins. So, why waste energy fighting it?! At least, that’s my expectation. Always.
And a word about the fees and taxes. Well …as usual, there is something I will complain about, here. So, we all know that the price of tickets is sky rocketing! With every trip, I am amazed at how much more they charge me for seemingly the same amount of travels (or less). With every trip, I wonder, pointlessly, why are they doing this?! To cover what?! Gas prices have not doubled since last time I traveled. We are not at some extra war. We are paying more or less the same for everything else we consume. But airline prices have to go up, up, up … and away … every single day, it seems. Totally unjustified, in my opinion!
The peanuts, cookies or pretzels were free. Water was free. But sodas were $2. Alcohol (read : “wine and beer” ) was $5. Liquor was $7 for an itty bitty bottle - you know: airplane size. I think it would have been better if you brought your own liquor in 3 oz bottles, which are allowed through security! Note to self for next time … Nothing totally new to me here!
What was new, was … the $2 charge for a set of headphones, to watch the movie (The Social Network) from Atlanta to Salt Lake. The hurtful part was that on the screen the disclaimer mentioned: “to enjoy this movie, purchase headsets for $2. Free on international flights”. (my italics) ?!?!?!?! Ex-cuse ME?! Please tell me HOW it costs Delta MORE to show you the movie on an internal flight than it does to show it to you on an international one? And don’t even get me started on “well, you paid more for the international ticket, so the movie should be free”, because OK… yeah, you paid more, but you fly twice as far! Totally blew my mind! $2 for a headset! I think I’ll rent a Redbox dvd when I get home for less!
Another obnoxious and cheeky punch in the gut was that when I paid for my checked in luggage (because, yes, you pay for ONE bag if you need to check it in, and I am sorry, I need a lot of crap for a week’s stay, and I’d rather not lug it all over the layover airport when you sell me tickets with less than an hour between planes), the itemized (kudos!) receipt I got for the bag stated I was paying for “excess baggage”. And I was puzzled. Excess of what, exactly?! I remember the days when you had included in your ticket price the checking in of not one but two bags! That was your allowed luggage! Perfectly "legal", because it is assumed you do need at least one change of clothes where you go, if it's far enough to fly there!! Now, it seems, that if you have anything more than your own body, it’s an “excess”?! I feel so decadent! So, that peeved me yet again, because again – you charge more for the tickets themselves, so you’re covered on whatever extra charges you might consider having.
The infamous punishing receipt ...
But they’ve got us by the balls, haven’t they?! (pardon my English!) We will pay whatever it’s needed, because our country is oh so large, and sometimes, you have no choice but to fly. You get only so many vacation days, so you can’t spend them all driving to see your family or friends. So, cringing will your jaw hurts, you buy the tickets, and whatever “extra” comes with it. No, let me rephrase: you buy the tickets and whatever they might think of as extras! And next time it'll be $2 for an ounce of oxygen you breathe! Because, you see, the system always wins!
I will add one positive note, though. This time, unlike other times, Delta had no delays! And it’s amazing to me how really that is a pleasant surprise anymore, rather than the norm. But as it stands today, it is the exception. The plane was at the gate for every flight, it always arrived earlier than announced, there were no overbooked flights, no “stand by” individuals, or passengers asked to wait for another flight because of whatever reason, no bogus mechanical issues. I had very short layovers, but every time I could grab a meal and get to my new gate comfortably, without running the toddlers over. Everything, in all my four flights, went like clock work. For the first time in a long, long time. And I call this a real improvement (un-jinxing fingers crossed!), especially considering I flew during the heart of winter towards and from and through the Great Big North. A lot of snowflakes could have impeded this trip. But they were not called responsible! Refreshing, I’d say, if I were over my price gouging. But that annoyance … will never end.
“Another turning point the fork stuck in the road.
Time grabs you by the wrist and directs you where to go.
So make the best of this test and don't ask why.
It's not a question but a lesson learned in time.
It's something unpredictable
but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
So take the photographs and still frames in your mind.
And hang it on a shelf in good health and good time.
Tattoos and memories and dead skin on trial.
For what it's worth, it was worth all the while.
It's something unpredictable
but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.”
(Green Day – Good Riddance)
I will never forget (Alzheimer’s not counting) my first ride from the airport in Atlanta to the first brew pub, when I first “landed” in The Land of All Possibilities. I was trying really hard not to be that wide open eyed, wonder child who looks up at the skyscrapers from the moving car that you know from cheesy movies.
Fortunately, Atlanta doesn’t have all that many skyscrapers. Or at least not as tall as the ones movies show for New York, Seattle and Chicago, I guess. But I do remember how my breath stopped on that ride, because the radio was playing this song . And I thought: “Oh, my God, how fitting! This IS my fork in the road. This IS my turning point. This WILL BE my song. My American song”. And every time I hear it, it brings me back to that moving car, on the way to the brew pub and the heart of Atlanta. And every time I hear it, I know, that the song I thought prophetic then, proved to be just that – to a tee.
I am not sure if “good riddance” is what my parents said when I left home for this whirlwind trip to America, but looking back, it surely feels that way!
I didn’t want this week to go by withoutmaking a writing stop to celebrate my 12 year American celebration of January 19, 1998. As I have said before, with a head full of dreams and curls, I came here trying to figure out how to make a life. I was not yet 23. But I thought at the time that I was 22 going on 50. I knew everything, and just needed the right environment to make it happen.
And I know you’ll think of my big head here, but so I did. I have had the “time of my life”, as the song goes. I just wanted to stop for a minute and recap what happened in the past 12 years.
I grew, and I became what you see today; I married, and had two step kids for a while; we took family trips, and made fires in the woods and told ghost stories; I watched them grow for almost four years, and gave them a home; I divorced, and painfully found my own way in a world that I just started to understand; I loved, and I cried, and I fell out of love, and I learned that life is not over after a breakup.
I bought houses. Four of them. And made a home. For just me out of two of them. I fell in love again. For four amazing years, and I made future plans which were once again to fail. Through it all, I loved, and gave, and received love, and matured, and learned. Continuously … learned …
I have lived one of the two dreams of my childhood: to live in The American South. Just like one of my heroes, Scarlett O’Hara. I really diddream of moving to Atlanta and figuring things out like she did. I came pretty close.
I have struggled with languageand learned yet again that what you learn in college about ‘English as a foreign language’ does not hold water when you live in The South. I have learned to love the liquid, humid air of August in North Carolina. I thought I’d never do! But it happened!
I have grown over my shyness. After all, there was no one there to do things for me. If I didn’t ask, I was left wanting. I have raised three cats, and made a home for them. I have found dogs to be lovely creatures, after all, and made peace with them, too.
I have gotten a tattoo… Just like the millions of pictures I have taken, it’s a memento of where I have been, who I am, and what my life is like.
I have grayed. I guess, I am pushing 50 after all. I have seen every state between Florida and Massachusetts, and traveled out West and to Canada. I have climbed the TwinTowers in New York in 1999. And felt like I conquered the world. How I am going to treasure that story to tell to my nieces and nephews… What a breathless moment to think back at! I have visited Ellis Island, and cried, because I understood! Their story was mine. Their “island of tears and hope” was mine. I am so ecstatically thankful for that!
I have gotten jobs and I have made a career. I have helped those in need, and learned to be grateful to just be. I have had plenty. No, no, it’s an accomplishment! Coming from Romania, and growing up in Communism, where you have nothing, I can tell you: I have had plenty. Plenty of food, and heat, and drinks, and choices, and most of all, plenty of freedom. I came here looking for just that: freedom: to read, to see, to know, to travel, to be who I am without restrictions. America has been very accepting of that. I am home.
I have lived as a resident for eight of the 12 I have been here and I have been a citizen for almost four. I voted to elect the first black American president in history. And I have worked for a paper that ran on the front page a story about a woman running for president on the day my nephew was born. A new world. I have seen history turn abruptly!
I have been able to show my parents, ever the dreamers about such a perfect land as America, the beauty and peacefulness of this country. I am grateful for that! To see their eyes open up with a new light and a new smile about how easy and giving and wonderful life could be in a free land, to see them cry as they float by The Statue of Liberty is what I live for.
I have become an aunt, and my only sister and twin soul has gotten married, had my nephew and also found a free home in Canada. I have lost a beloved grandmother, and I had to learn the painful way to say good bye to someone without being there at the end. That is a lesson that hurt the most! I have thus learned that you must say what you mean and what you feel when given the opportunity, and not wait. Tomorrow might never come and pay attention: “opportunities don’t come with labels”, so pay close attention!
I have had my disappointments. In my new country, and its politics, in the lack of healthcare and what seem pointless restrictions (like alcohol laws – I know, trivial!), and in life in general. I have learned not to believe in forever, and just to trust the now. I have learned that if you do that, the forever will take care of itself – but it’s the now that needs you the most. So, give your all to it.
I have met wonderful people that have taught me so much! Sure, wonderful people are everywhere, but I will forever be grateful to folks, like JC. Not just because he taught me by example how to live and love my life and who I am, but also because he made me understand this country, even when I am not crazy about her politicians’ decisions.
I am grateful for all my friends here, who taught me everything I know today about living in America. Taught me about mortgages, home warranty, shopping at WalMart, driving a car, renewing my license, eating pumpkins, oat meat and grits, shrimp, eating out, Thanksgiving, the craziness of Christmas, being independent and feeling powerful as a single woman. I am also grateful for my friends far away who have managed to keep in touch across many miles over such a long time. It’s them who ground me!
I have met my new love and I am giving marriage another shot. I never say “never” after all, and I believe in the good of the individual, not so much in labels. And thus, I am at “a turning point” with “the fork stuck in the road” again! As before, in Atlanta, with the Green Day song being so fitting, I am appropriately moving to Spanish Fork. My second childhood dream of searching for The Last Frontier of America, and following the trails of so many brave people in history looking for possibilities and more freedom will now be able to take place. I am once again hopeful and wide eyed. I am yet to find out if “The West is the Best”, I guess. The sky scrapers are The Rockies now, and I am ever so excited! 12 years did nothing to my cynicism, evidently!
More than anything… I have learned that I can stand on my own two feet and weather pretty much anything. As long as you know who you are, and you live in a place that cherishes the individual, you’re fine. One thing I have managed not to do, or maybe two, is (are): I have not become quite the avid consumer Americans are for the most part. Nor did I gain exorbitant weight. I did gain! It’s a sign of “a good life”, my mom says … but not to the point where you can’t recognize me. I consider those good things, though!
I have kept my faith and I am practicing it every day. I am forever thankful to my folks that gave me such great, fulfilling roots that I cannot and would not rid of! Roots and wings is what you need. And boy, have I gotten both!
I am living my dreams. I am living my dad’s dreams and making my mom proud. I have really little to complain about. I am the same, and yet better (remember: big head!) and wiser, and I am grateful that I have kept an open mind and heart and open eyes and let America flood me! I am ever so full.
I still think of myself as an immigrant and as a newbie! I never ever want to stop feeling like that. In Yoga, they tell you “I never want to stop being a beginner”. And that is so simple and so true: I never want to be rid of the curiosity and excitement a beginner has! A beginner will try anything. And I will try to forever stay a newly-off-the-boat …uumm – plane Romanian immigrant! Still learning. So much!
I still have the head full of curls (albeit gray) and definitely of dreams. Listening to my anniversary song all week, I find it still to be a great song. And it’s even better, trust me, when it becomes life.
I have thought long and hard before I started writing this. Life has been particularly good to me lately, so I didn’t want to jinx myself, and let Ms. Bitter come out of me … But … honesty always wins, and as my dear friend says, if you’ve got something to say, you gotta write a blog. Something like that!
You also knew me better than this, and you knew I could not be ona plane trip and not post something about airlines, and such! That would be so out of ordinary for me, wouldn’t it?!
So, without further ado, I’d like to share with you my latest experience on a Delta flight from Atlanta (does it ever end with Delta, you’ll ask: I suppose not!).
So, I board the 2:57 flight from Atlanta to Greensboro one Monday, recently. I am thinking I will miss the flight, because I only had 20 minutes between when my previous plane (from SaltLake) landed until the second plane would take off. So, out of breath, I get to my gate at 2:40. I had a boarding pass, but no seat. At the gate, I jump the line of stand-byers (I HAD a pass, all right???) and I ask for a seat. The lady is all ready for me, and hands me a ticket, with my seat assignment. Seat 1D.
“Oh, peachy!” – I tell myself, “Can’t use the seat in front of me to store my carry-on’ Lovely!”. Little did I know that was to be the least of my worries. I try to run onto the plane, but the flight attendant is guarding it with her life. She barks, seeing my intention of getting onto her flight (and I mean “her” flight: proprietary as hell): “ONLY, if you’re going to Greensboro!!!!”.
OK. I am thinking: Oh, maybe someone just tried to get into her plane for a different city and now she’s worried. I have never, in my life, have seen anyone going past the gate and getting into the wrong plane, but I am sure I still have things to learn. So, I say, smiling: “Yes, I am going to Greensboro”. She sighs, rolls her eyes to make sure I see it, and lets me in.
I go right in, on the first row. The overhead bin is closed, which is weird, since the plane is not finished boarding, judging from the empty seats and people standing by at the gate. I open the overhead bin (first row, remember, so I am trying to use the bin), and she is right behind me: “Umm… What are you doing?”. I tell her I need to use the bin for the storage. She goes on: “Is your seat supposed to be in the first row??” – just annoyed as hell. I show her the ticket: “Yes, ma’am. 1D! First row”.
She rolls her eyes and sighs:” Well, make sure your stuff will fit in there”. I can’t think of WHY she made that comment, because all I have is a soft shell backpack and the bin is completely empty, but I am, moving right along and trying not to mind her.
I pull out my book, my purse (small, also), and my mini laptop, and leave the rest in the backpack and up in the bin. I have traveled much in my time – not as much as most folks, true, and not as much as I wish, but I have been on one or two planes. I have kept my purse next to me, in my seat, and I have seen people doing it all the time. This is my fourth flight traveling with the mini laptop, and I have always put it in the pocket in front of my seat, without any sort of comments from the flight attending crew. So, I think nothing of stuffing my mini and my book in the pocket, and tucking my purse next to my hip, on my seat.
Then, I notice, she gives the same treatment to ALL the folks that are coming onto the plane: making sure they go to Greensboro. And for those who sit in the front row, making sure that’s where they belong. I am starting to get annoyed! I am trying to wonder, again, judging from my experience, who in the right mind would just walk on a plane with the wrong destination in mind and sit just wherever the hell they wanna sit, just for the fun of it?! They give you that coupon with a seat on it for a reason, don’t they???
Anywhoo … I am glad it’s not me that she’s yelling at anymore.
I also need to tell you that the woman is NOT nice through this whole thing. She sounds mad. She sounds annoyed with every single one of us that walks in. Everyone notices her bad mood, and they pop their eyes at each other. But she comes on so strong you kind of just … shut up.
All the fun of watching is over for me when she sees my purse, and yells: “I am sorry, ma’am. THAT (pointing) has to go under your seat. It is the Federal regulation, and you must obey it!”. She is emphatic like that on the underlines words, like I were deaf, of some sort. I wanted to say I have done it numerous times before, but I figure it’s not going to happen on her plane, so I just “obey” it.
The couple that is sitting across the aisle from me (older, cute couple) are trying to put their stuff in the bin across from me, and they fail to see the “For aircraft staff only” sticker on it. They get admonished, with no regard for their old years (the attendant is probably in her late 40’s). They pick my bin, next, and she puffs: “Oh, that’s already taken” (by my little backpack!!) “I doubt you can fit your bag there”. The gentleman does fit it, and closes the bin. The lady of the couple is keeping purse on her lap. She gets yelled at about The Fed regulations, also.
It’s 3:00 PM and the flight shows no sign of taking off. She mentions to the older gentleman across from me that she’s waiting for the food supplies. I am wondering what food, since we all know we get no food on commuter flights. And she mentions that she called in the supplies at 2:10 and she is still to receive them. So, this will go into my book of "weird reasons planes are late taking off", I am thinking.
Then, she mentions: “I am a very patient lady (I puff within myself, because not a pore in her body speaks of 'patience'), but I cannot put up with this crap! I have been up since 5 AMand all I want is to get home and get into that hot tub that I have been thinking about all day!”. And she is tapping her foot, with arms crossed, looking out the door, for the supply crew. Impatiently.
All right, at this point, I am pissed! I am mad, because I had been up since 2 AM (if we’re talking Atlanta time!), and been in lines in airports for hours, and on planes all day long, on my vacation. She is doing her darn job!
This should not require pity!
The gentleman that is to sit next to me comes in late, and he is questioned why so late. He apologizes and says he just landed and almost didn’t make this flight. She sighs. Gives him the same spiel about “oh, you’re not fitting your stuff up there. Oh, I am sure it’s not going to fit, so don’t even try it”. The guy is speechless, mouth open and just annoyed eyes, but doesn’t say anything. His bag fits.I give him a sympathetic smile.
Then she is off to the rest of the plane, yelling at this older lady, telling her that maybe she doesn’t hear well (??!!), but she did say about half of a dozen times that no one can keep purses in their laps! Everyone is speechless and just wants to say something, but we all want to go somewhere, so we don’t budge.
Then, the supply crew comes, around 3:05. Yes, you remember right, the flight was to leave at 2:57 PM! She argues with the supply crew: no, she does not need M&M’s, she needs peanuts. The cross country Conair Jets get M&M’s, she is a commuter flight on the East Coast, she gets peanuts. The man pages someone for peanuts! Then, she wants more water – she gets that; and also a Conair liquor kit! I am thinking: this is a commuter flight and it’s 3 PM! Who will order liquor that probably is an arm and a leg!??? Who will have liquor and peanuts??? Anywhoo, she wants a liquor kit. We’re waiting for the second crew to arrive with the liquor kit.
Then, she argues with them about the paperwork: the list of supplies she gets has no carbon. She needs one with carbon, to keep a copy on board. The people (by now instead of the 2 people that showed up with supplies initially, we have five folks and three carts outside!) are saying they have no kind of other paperwork, this is it, for all planes. For all airlines. Sorry, Conair (which is us) gets carbon, she needs carbon! Their manager shows up, a bossy, gentlemanly man, and yells back at her (FINALLY, I say!!!): “Ma’am! This is what we have! You take it or leave it! But we cannot produce any other kind of paperwork! Make a copy when you get to the office, and be done with it. I can’t give you a carbon copy, and I am pulling my crew! You got what you need??”. She talks over him, but finally accepts the paperwork.
It’s 3:30. She closes the doors. Yay! At 3:40 we’re leaving!
Not before … she comes and notices my laptop in the pocket in front of me, and barks again – now even more mad, after the fight with the supplies people: “Ma’am!!!! (I blink!) Federal regulations prohibit the placement of electronics in the pocket in front of you. I would like you to listen to me when I speak, and do what I say!!” – this is very much verbatim!
So, I grab the laptop, and slide it under my own seat, mumbling (I just could NOT keep it inside me): “And WHAT ELSE, I wonder?!?”
The gentleman next to me goes “Geez!”.
She comes back, and pulls out of the seat pocket the Sky magazine, to show me the page with the Federal regulations. She shoves it in front of me, while I am looking out the window. I say, after a while: “ I heard you!” – annoyed and not looking at the page, but at her with my evil look (oh, you know that look!)
She cannot believe the gall, and says “Well, I heard you say ‘Whatever’, so I just needed to show you the rules!”
I say, undisturbed: “ I did not say ‘Whatever’!”
She puts the magazine back and walks away. The guy next to me says again: “Geez! She sucks!”.
I agree.
And the journey continues. For the rest of the flight, I avoid her. I pretend to sleep when she serves peanuts, and I don’tmake eye contact. She still blabs, looking at us, unfortunate folks of first row for comment and approval, and I look out the window. The other folks are quiet. She’s all but talking to herself …
We arrive in Greensboro, and she wishes us a nice day, and then she wants to leave us with a thought. And it pains me to put it out there … but I have to: she says on the microphone: “ I would like to leave you with a thought for the day folks. I want you to remember that ‘a smile is a facelift that we call can afford’ and I wish you all a very pleasant day!”.
Some people are laughing and some people (those who have been yelled at) are looking around at each other with inquisitive eyes of “are you freaking kidding me????”. We shake our heads, and instead of “good bye” I wanted to say: “you earn a smile, you don’t demand one”. But I figured I’d waste my breath and I don’t know about you, but I have more respect for my breath than that!
So, next time you fly Delta on a Conair commuter flight, and your flight attendant is Karen and she asks you if you belong there – be warned! You just saw Hitler, in a new incarnation!
And, for the sake of accuracy, all the similarities between names, institutions and reality in this bit are not purely coincidental. And I am not too sure what The Fed says about that, either …
There is one common feeling that unites all my trips, no matter how long, or where the destination, or whether I travel by land or air. And that is the feeling of unbounded gratefulness. To God, nature, and Life: that I have a body that allows me (still) to pick up and go; that there is a certain amount of safety I feel when I launch off my front porch; that I have the means to do it; that there are friends out there who either do it with me, or host my crazy outings.
Sometimes I’d pick up and go with a definite plan in mind, an itinerary and a defined timetable. And other times, when the town I live in becomes claustrophobic, I just play it by ear. Like this past weekend when all I wanted is to visit my friend in Atlanta. He’s funny and he can pack hours of entertaining just by being locked up in a room with him and listening to his fibs. That’s all I wanted: I wanted the road trip, to put some distance between daily routine and myself and to listen to my friend C. crack me up.
And, as it happens, on adventures like these, I got so much more.
I got to finally drive myself, all alone to a big city and actually not get terribly lost. One road fear down, 1000 to go! Hey, it’s the first step that counts!
I got to experience one of the quirkiest, and equally delicious restaurants I have ever been to: R. Thomas and Son. Funny name aside and all (kind of like a law office, but not ...), the place is unique: wind chimes and parrots and beads hanging from the purple ceiling, the place which is tucked under a tent, it reminded me of Key West, or some place in the Caribbean, but also of Amsterdam, for it’s eclectic-ness . They’re open 24/7and they have breakfast round the clock.
I was not surprised that C. knew about the best place in town that has “breakfast 24/7”: we always used to go to Cracker Barrel in Greensboro, and he always used to order breakfast, no matter the time. I am glad some things don’t change so much over the years.
R. Thomas also had caged birds outside, that said “Bye” when you left, and “Hello” when you were heading in …
The food was all organic, and it tasted fresh, delicious and extremely non-greasy and non-stuffy, much, much unlike a MacBiscuit, or whatever they call those nowadays…
In this little quirky joint, I also discovered blue corn and how much I love it indeed and how that now opens the door for new culinary adventures, as I will learn everything about it: where you find it, how you cook it, how you season it,what you serve with it, you name it. It was the most basic dish you have ever seen or tasted: nothing like corn, nor beans, but somewhere in the middle. It was earthy, and simple and delicious! One hour of breakfast, one forgetful waiter later, I got more than a mouthful – as you can tell.
Also with no plans, we got to see the Georgia Aquarium, as the skies look cold and menacing, and drippy. It prides itself as “the largest aquarium in the world”, and I’d have to say: I was expecting “the” largest to be much larger than that. I guess in the number of kids and toddlers it can accommodate in 2 hours, yeah, it beats anything I have ever seen!
I had never seen Beluga whales nor whale sharks before, so there was another first. I also didn’t know about the electric eels. I’ll have to admit: I thought that’s a horrible name of a band in the 80’s, but they’re actual creatures!
We then walked to the CNN center not for the tour, which both of us have done before, and found it sort of dull (well, we both work for media people, so I guess we’re tougher to impress!). We went to CNN for snacks. I needed my ice cream and nuts fix for the year and C. wanted some donuts. About 3 disgustingly delicious ones!
I also found out about the Georgians’ sense of humor: their PortaJons are called either “Happy Can” or “Pit Stop”. I thought “Happy Can” was quite funny!
We also had a couple of large gatherings with friends; most notably one in a Mexican restaurant where you can watch tortillas being made fresh from dough, and where they recyclebeer bottles by building chandeliers out of them. All I can say is: Paige Davis, eat your heart out!
But just the road tripping was welcome: to weave in and out 3-4-5 lanes amongst crazy centipede-like tractor trailers, which are completely unaware of their weight and size and speed on I-85 at speeds I am scared to tackle; just taking the Atlanta skyline in and architecture – would have been enough!
Historic houses, reminiscent of Scarlett O’Hara’s days right next to high rises or California-like modern homes, the woods of magnolia trees and dogwoods at every street corner – would have been plenty, just to rinse my retina of routine images I have been looking at here, at home, since my last trip!
Those and just to re-discover a very dear friend, the way I remembered him was priceless. We talked about our lives, relationships, loves and lost hopes and some newly gained ones, future plans and future dreams. We realized that years and physical distances matter not when the heart holds a stronger bond. Being an immigrant, I knew that – but it was nice to be reminded.
C’s stories, laughter and silliness – would have been divine! And his wisdom, too!
But it was so much more. As usual, a trip never disappoints. And again: I am rested and recharged, but most than anything: I am grateful. And looking forward, very much, to the next one.
