Day 6: misery of the road (nola to austin)

The day was simply miserable because of the late night before and the long drive from New Orleans to Austin. Also, a large storm came and reduced visibility on I-10 to a few dozen feet. The day was a travel day -- miserable but necessary.

> Stopped at a gas station to get gas. Went inside and noticed the cans of ice cold Natty Lite, presumably for immediate consumption while in the car.
> Drove through Atchafalaya Swamp, the largest swamp in North America. Neat little visitor center to show that off on I-10.
> When I finally got to the Texas border was struck by the 890 mile exit sign. Wow. Huge state.
> Was inundated by storms.
> Took nap outside of Houston. Nice to see HOV lanes again, a sign of congestion, I suppose and theoretically civilization, though again, I am in Texs. (sorry for the gab there, fellows.)
> Arrived in Austin late, and got confused by the road systems. Coming up Texas state road 71, you get a grat city lights view of the city. It's rewarding after 9 hours of driving.
> Met up with Julie and Dan to get food at Trudy's a favorite UT-Austin hangout apparently.
> Checked out the late night E-6th Street South by South West life. Amazing stuff. I can't wait for the real festival during the early evening.
> Slept like a baby.

Day 5: Tuscaloosa to New Orleans

Low-key morning.
After Dan's bbq the previous night, I slept in. I'm not sure if it's my age or just the general tiredness of travelling so much, but I was not inclined to go back out to drink. It's a sign of maturity, I suppose. My graying-hair self.

Dan wanted to check out the shooting range. At this point, I expressed my surprise that he had bought a gun. It's not that I dislike guns, but these destructive weapons put me at ill-ease, especially because they are not toys, though people may think that they are. "I'm from Texas," Dan said jokingly. "Yeah, I guess there are certain cultures that just like their toys," I said. I was thinking specifically of parts of Virginia where I knew that the first day of hunting season resulted in schools closing since most kids took off the day.

So, instead of shooting a gun, we decided to play some racquetball and have a restful gym-day. I'm terrible at the game, but Dan gave me a few pointers that I think will help my game in the future.

Counties to Parishes I left Dan and headed South on I-59. When I hit Louisiana, I noticed the roads changed a bit in quality. According to Dan, when Congress attached a string to its federal highway funds, requiring states to raise their drinking ages to 21 from 18, Louisiana held out as long as it could, and the roads deteriorated. So much for state sovereignty. The power of the purse speaks louder in the end, I guess.

The profuse number of swamps was perhaps the most interesting aspect of the drive down. But at one point, I saw the infamous FEMA trailers that had been purchased but now lay waiting in huge open fields miles from New Orleans.





I got plenty of traffic on I-10 and got into the city late. When I got in, I was surprised at how much the city had changed. There was now traffic and the city seemed more alive. It made me happy to see that the city was recovering. After dropping off my stuff at the hotel, we went out immediately. We did our usual shenanigans in the French Quarter, and Frenchman Street. IT's amazing how there's such good music on a Tuesday night. It was good to hang out with Frank, Emily, Carol and others. The neatest thing of the night was probably the random country-music themed club on Iberville and Bourbon at the end of the night. See the cowboys ride.

Day 4: Tuscaloosa News

The city of Tuscaloosa is perhaps the second or third largest city in all of Alabama. Birmingham is the largest and Montgomery is comparable in size to it as well. Named after an American Indian chief, the city’s name means black warrior, after the custom of the natives of painting themselves with dark soil. The best thing that the city is known for perhaps today is that it is the home of the Crimson Tide, the fighting name of the University of Alabama.

In the morning, once I had recovered from the long drive of yesterday, I decided to explore some of the area, since it had been too dark to appreciate everything the night before. Dan had to work in the morning, so he took off for the office leaving me with the hyperactive Pike. I managed to sneak out of the house and went for a run around the campus up to the river, which incidentally is known as Black Warrior River.

The campus was fairly empty because it also was Spring Break. But, as I jogged around, I was struck by the beauty of the campus and its similarities to the University of Virginia’s design. There were open spaces, plenty of brick and neo-classical style design. The Southern adornment of curved staircases was used prominently throughout the buildings. The jog continued up to the river, where a new River Walk had been built, complete with nice stone benches and a little pier to view and even fish from. Little did I know that the next morning, someone would drive off from the park and into the river, killing himself. That would draw large crowds onto the otherwise empty park that morning.

Dan came home later, and we proceeded to search for acceptable food. I wanted to have some Southern soul food, but Dan was skeptical. Though there were some places that he knew of, he thought it was anachronistic to eat such foods. “It’s all for show,” he said. He explained that people simply didn’t eat the unhealthy and overpriced foods in the town, and it was subject really to tourists. “Everyone’s moved on here.”

He finally gave in though and we went to a tiny little restaurant that was exactly what I wanted and pictured, from my perspective as a tourist. It was a little bit rundown looking over to some train tracks. The inside featured some kind-looking old black women who helped us with picking out our food. I tried “real” Southern sweetened tea for the first time and had a sugar shock almost instantly. The food was hearty though and I couldn’t finish it all. For some reason, during trips my appetite is decreased substantially.

I asked Dan how he was enjoying life in the South. I wondered how a guy from Northern Virginia, who went to high school with me in a county that has the population of one fifth of Alabama was doing. “I think I would have problems living in a place like this. There’s not the same diversity we have in DC,” I said. “Northern Virginia really unique in the world though,” Dan said. He argued that the number of different peoples from all over the world that lived in close quarters to each other on suburban, nicely manicured lawns was something people simply didn’t think about at all. “Right,” I said. “But, it doesn’t stop me from wanting it.”

I explained that I thought that DC was the best city in the world because of that reason partially. It had in addition, a small enough population that it didn’t have the crushing feeling of New York City or London or any megapolis, but had the amenities of fine arts in the Smithsonian and the Kennedy Center as well as a raging nightlife.

“You have a bias,” Dan said simply. There was an implication he said in what I had just articulated – that somehow the “high art” was better than the local arts. I answered that that was not what I meant to suggest. I believe in cultural relativism and it particularly applicable to folk art versus higher bourgeouise art. But, I again was articulating my own sentiments. I grew up in such a world and that was what I was accustomed to. I wasn’t being snobby, though it seemed like it. In fact, I thought that anyone who thinks that folk art is better than fine arts, is exercising snobbery just as well in a reverse fashion.

Other things we did that day:

Ø Saw a mental asylum’s pauper grave.

Ø Took a look at the ruins of the original state capitol for Alabama

Ø Visited Dan’s workplace

Ø Got a drink at the local watering hole, the Downtown Pub

Ø Saw another cemetery, one of dozens of Confederate Soldiers in Gainesville, AL.

Ø Had a cookout and met Dan’s neighbors.

Days 2-3: Whitesburg and the Deep South

Partyin' in Whitesburg
After our hike, and a little respite, by running to the laundromat for Ginger and me to the local auto parts store for a new bulb, we finally went to The Party. Jamilia and Joel's house is in the town and it looks to be fairly modern with a nice kitchen as well as a great living room. It was a low-key affair, where people just chatted with one another and ate the food that was offered. Eventually, the birthday boy arrived and he expressed gratitude and eventually killed the pinata that the hosts had decided would be an appropriate and sweet gifts.

Late into the evening, Ginger decided it was time to call on her new Mexican friends. Ginger has this great quality, where she tries to bridge different cultures and groups. She had traveled to South America and had developed an appreciation of the Latin culture. When migrant workers came to Whitesburg looking for jobs, she reached out and befriended some, whom she invited to the party that night.

It was interesting to see the mix of people at the house, particularly the interactions between the different groups. This was an eclectic group that was by no means the typical group, but they certainly were influencing life in Appalachia.

Other things:
> after partying for a while, left the next morning and drove through Southwest Virginia on the way to Alabama.
> saw two confederate flags on the front lawns on US-23.
> Chatanooga's a big city. Never thought it would be.
> Checked out Birmingham's Five Points for dinner before arriving in Tuscaloosa.

Day 2: Whitesburg fun

Brunch and town divisions
The next morning, after a nice conversation with Ginger about life in Whitesburg, we got up to experience more of the town. Ginger asked, “Where do you want to eat this morning?” Normally this would probably be a complicated question when we were home in D.C. or Northern Virginia. But the options were extremely limited in Whitesburg, making the decision making easier, though still with a level of difficulty. The options in town for breakfast really are just the Pine Mountain Grill or to cook at home. Ginger insisted on checking out the Grill, which has remarkably cheap food that’s of pretty decent quality. Bethany wanted to wash her hair, so she stayed behind.


On the ride out, Ginger explained that the town of Whitesburg, like much of Appalachia is built along the creeks, in what are called “hollows.” The land is so mountainous and hilly, the flat lands along the banks of the creek are the places that are readily habitable. I thought about my drives through Appalachia, particularly down 119 the day before. The towns were all below the interstates as you drove by with incredible vistas. It made sense now that the towns were in these “hollow” areas that were basically carved out by the creeks and rivers.

Pine Mountain is the landmark mountain in town. The restaurant owner took the name of the town to create the successful business operation. Mr. Childers (though pronounced Childress by the natives apparently) is a wealthy oil and coal baron in the town. Some tensions have risen over the lack of any giving the potential beneficiary may have given but has not.
“Wow. That story sounds just like a typical small-town transformation story: big time baron controls the local economy but is a grouch and tensions arise,” I said to Ginger. “Um, yeah,” she replied with a shrug. “It’s just like It’s a Wonderful Life!” I said trying to get some sort of reaction. “Oh yeah. Isn’t that the movie with Jimmy . . . Jimmy something? Ginger’s swiss cheese knowledge of popular culture always surprised me. How is it that someone born in this country not know such a movie classic. After I elaborated on Mr. Potter versus the small town of Bedford Falls, we moved on to other topics of interest in Whitesburg.

Like any society or culture, divisions exist between groups of people. Coal miner verus the non-coal miners. The multi-generational Whitesburg people that were so proud of their history and culture versus the transplants in the form of first generation immigrants who were doctors on special visas to the United States to study, requiring them to work in the countryside upon completion of their degrees. These divisions exist in a tiny town of five thousand people. I wonder if everyone really knows everyone’s business.


Appalshop and the town, and a prisoner’s dilemma
After brunch, we went to the Food City, which I am discovering very quickly is the big southern food market chain. I saw them all the way from southern Ohio to Tennessee. There we ran into more of Ginger’s Appalshop friends. “Are you going to Jamila and Joel’s party tonight?” Ginger asked. Everyone we would run into that day that Ginger knew seemed to be aware of this party. It seemed like this was going to be a large bash with most of the town showing up. “Who isn’t coming to this party tonight?” I asked Ginger later as we were putting the spring water we had bought into the car. (Apparently the water has soft metals in it, causing anyone who has long term consumption of it to become sick, or so it is said. So, bottled water is the way to go.) “Um, I think pretty much everyone will be there. It’s really Sean’s surprise birthday party.” Sean was an Appalshop god-figure that had left a while back, but was still revered by the crew.

We went home and dropped off the groceries and grabbed Bethany. We walked over to the office and also checked out a fundraiser yard sale in the new building that will house the radio department of Appalshop. Bethany’s project is to direct the renovation of the building, which has received state and federal grant monies. At this point, I asked to clarify a bit more of what Appalshop is. The organization is one that attracts a wide variety of artists in the documentary film, radio, youth initiatives groups. The mission statement seems to be sprawling, trying to preserve the Appalachian culture while also serving the community. The radio station is one part of the mission and Ginger has a show – World Beat, Monday evenings.
Later in a tour of her office, she showed me the pile of letters she had been receiving from her various fans – all inmates from neighboring state and federal prisons. I expressed my surprise at the nature of these letters, but the explanation made sense. Ginger’s lead in show is “From the Holler to the Hood,” done by Jamila (who’s bigtime party we would be going to that night) which was a show that tried to act as a connection between the inmates and their families, who mostly live too far away to visit. Ginger’s show, which started just a few months ago plays international music including Latin music, which for some of the inmates is the only way they can listen to such music. Word spread quickly among the inmates when Ginger started playing her music and they flood her weekly with requests for songs from their hometowns.

I looked at the large pile of sheets and offered to sort them and read through them to better understand them all. After hole punching dozens of letters and reading and putting them into a binder, a strange and darkly humorous story emerged: lonely prisoners that had plenty of time on their hands were writing to Ginger. Some were simple – just requests and others sought romantic involvement with the DJ. I thought it was touching, her willingness to try to give some break from the lonliness, but she acknowledged that many of these people had done horrible things. It was a struggle that she had with herself. I held up a letter with a fancy ink-drawn picture with both Ginger and the inmate’s name. Ginger commented without any emotion that she often received art work from her listeners.


I finished Ginger’s binder and then we decided to walk up the mountain behind Appalshop to the communication tower. Along the way, Husky, as I named him appeared out of nowhere and decided to follow us up the trail. I was surprised at the company, and at first was worried that Husky would get lost if he went too far from his home. “You don’t have neighborhood dogs where you grew up?” Ginger asked. Apparently, leash laws are not in existence in rural Virginia, which seems to make sense.
We were unable to finish the climb, because Ginger was worried about the time as well as her being out of shape. Even living in slower-pace life of Appalachia, Ginger stays busy.

Day 1: Selected Pics

On the Road! Notice the lack of snow on the ground.
So, that's where the Hatfields and McCoys are from. There's what looks to be a nice trail in nearby West Virginia.
Random picture.

The friends.

Day 1: Coal Country and Preceptions

So, I couldn't stick to my schedule. I had planned on turning in my appellate brief for class early and leave straight from my internship with the FTC in downtown Cleveland Thursday, but I got caught up with the brief and ended up getting only a few hours of sleep the night before my big drive down. So, erring on the safe side, I decided to take the full time to edit the brief and also drink with Joe before sleeping many hours.

This morning, I woke up later than my nine o'clock time and rushed to shower, eat and pack before I headed out the door to turn in some overdue footnotes for Journal. Believe me, it's hard to think about footnote verification right before a long trip like this. Anyhow, getting out of Cleveland had a great and cathartic feeling for myself; the cold weather and the anxiety of finding a job and law school lifted from me as the temperatures also rose as I drove south on I-77.

The drive was mostly pleasant, except for a hitch in the middle (I'll describe that later). The geography of Ohio changes quite noticeably as you get out past Akron to Canton. (I also discovered how close by the National Pro Football Hall of Fame is. I'll have to make a visit at some point.) No longer is the land just flat after a certain point; it becomes rolling hills that is reminiscent of Charlottesville, VA for myself. As I drove farther down, I was impressed by the carving up of the mountains that I saw. The block-like marks in the mountains made it seem like they were constructed rom Lego pieces and the striations on them looked like they wept.

Eventually and finally I arrived in Charleston, WV. For a capital, I thought it would be much bigger, but the skyline only had a few "tall" buildings -- mostly bank buildings. The sun was approaching its setting point behind the mountains, and the city looked almost rustic, in that special mountain way as I drove through. Though it was rush hour at 5:00 pm on a Friday, there was no traffic at all as I zoomed through.

At this point, I called both Debi and Ginger. Debi was coming from Lebanon, VA, about 70 miles from Whitesburg to visit me. Ginger, my friend from college is working at Appalshop in Whitesburg. Read more about Appalshop here: http://www.appalshop.org/ . I told them that I would see them soon, but in my discussion with them on the phone, I must have missed the turn for South, Route 119. I had the impression, talking with Ginger that the road was supposed to be twisty and windy, but I was surprised at the one-lane nature of the road as well as the tight switchbacks I had to go through. Finally, after going 20 mph for a while, I was not in Pike County anymore and I had not arrived in Pikesville, which I thought was a large town. Turning around at the Floyd County line, I turned towards what seemed the closest thing to civilization. It turned out it was a coal mine. I tried to find a map that could help me locate where I was, but could not in the dark. I looked up in my wranglings to see a pair of headlights on a pickup truck come toward me. The truck slowed down and pulled up to me.

At this point, I was uncertain what to do. My instinct told me that I was in Appalachia and it was probably unwise to lower my window and talk to a total stranger. But two thoughts tugged at me: one emotional and the other rational. The first was that I was getting worried that I was lost and had no cell phone coverage. The second was that I shouldn't assume that a coal miner would take negatively to me, because I was an out of town minority. So, I rolled down my window and politely asked how to get to South 119. The gentleman was in this fifties and he looked at me kindly and said that I just needed to go the way I had come from; I would hit the intersection quickly enough. I thanked him profusely and got back on track. When I had cell phone reception eventually again, I told Ginger about the coal miner. "Was he mean to you?" I was surprised. "Um, was he supposed to be, or should he have?" I asked. "No, just get out of there!"

Later when I finally arrived in Whitesburg to have a late dinner at the new Mexican restaurant (there are only three restaurants in town) she explained that coal miners were unfriendly to people that they were suspicious. It made sense, I guess -- I could appear to be some lawyer snooping around the coal mine looking for work.

I'll write some more tomorrow about the town, since I'm tired now. Got to see Debi and catch up with Ginger as well as meet her housemate...

Spring Break 2007

It's my last Spring Break, or I think it is anyhow. In the next 11 days, I'll be road-tripping through the Deep South and into Texas, two places of this great country that I have not experienced yet. I'm excited to take the time and visit my friends from home and college in their new homes in Kentucky, Alabama and Texas. I'll also see fellow law students in New Orleans and Atlanta.

Come here periodically to check my progress and some pictures. My full itinerary is available pasted here:

Spring Break 2007 Itinerary

Thursday; March 8, 2007 –

2:00 pm; DEPART: Cleveland, OH.

9:00 pm; ARRIVE: Whitesburg, KY to visit Ginger and to learn how to barn dance.

410 miles

Stay in KY for 3 nights.

Sunday; March 11, 2007 –

11 am; DEPART: Whitesburg, KY

7:30 pm; ARRIVE: Tuscaloosa, AL to visit Dan and tour the true Deep South.

901 miles

Stay in AL for 2 nights

Tuesday; March 13, 2007 –

12 pm; DEPART: Tuscaloosa, AL

4:40 pm; ARRIVE: New Orleans, LA to visit the Case Law ACLU Spring Break trip.

1192 miles

Stay in LA for 1 night

Wednesday, March 14, 2007 --

11 am; DEPART: New Orleans, LA

8:00 pm; ARRIVE: Austin, TX for awesomeness with Julie, Megan, and the crew from Case.

1702 miles

Stay in Austin for 3-4 nights

Friday, March 16, 2007 --

4:00 am; DEPART Austin, TX

6:30 am; ARRIVE Houston, TX

7:15 am FLIGHT CO520: IAH à ATL

10:30 am ARRIVE, ATL, GA

1:15 pm ARRIVE: Albany, GA for a talk with a judge.

AFTERNOON: visit Chris C. Chan in Atlanta, GA

8:55 pm FLIGHT: CO3395: ATL à IAH

10:20 pm ARRIVE Houston, TX

Sunday, March 18, 2007 --

11:00 am, DEPART Austin, TX

11:00 pm, ARRIVE Nashville, TN

2560 miles

Monday, March 19, 2007

9:00 am, DEPART Nashville, TN

5:00 pm, ARRIVE Cleveland, OH

3084 miles

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