So, the days are flying. I’ll stop complaining or explaining how difficult it is to write about my day at the end of the day, but just know when there’s a post every 3 or 4 or 5 days, it weirdly is.
I’ll start with where I am: Eureka Springs, Arkansas and where I was last time I wrote: Albuquerque, New Mexico. And all the places in between: Colorado and Kansas. It’s been a week or more and so much has happened- so many miles covered. So many back and forth miles.
I’ll try to do a rundown in photos of these lost days later.
Tuesday night I’d been longing to stay in a hotel and when I thought my Airbnb host had been murdered, I had the perfect excuse. I stayed in a funny place belonging to the University of Arkansas called the Inn and Carnall Hall and my room had a king sized bed which felt like my own personal sleep island. Despite the amazing bed, I didn’t sleep that well, but that’s on me and my poor sleep habits rather than the place or the bed and its super soft sheets and perfectly firm mattress.
When I woke up it was raining, it was like the weather gave me a pass on exploring and was telling me to just get on the road- the goal was Memphis (or Oxford)- but as I was checking out, I couldn’t resist asking the front desk lady if she had any recommendations for places to visit between Fayetteville and Memphis (or Oxford). Yes, I am telling this story in real time, and yes, she did have a recommendation.
I was almost hoping she wouldn’t say anything because the biggest struggle for me has been staying on track. When I drive during the day, it’s hard not to want to stop every 10 minutes and explore and take pictures. It makes the progress a little slow. But how could I just get on the road and drive for 4 1/2 hours when there was a place called Terra Studios 30 minutes away waiting for me? And still I told myself, I’ll just swing by, it’s raining and I’ll be on my way in 10 minutes. Nope. So, here where I should have all the words to describe the fascinating place that is Terra Studios and why I spent 2 hours- or was it 3?- I am at a loss for words that do that place justice and need the crutch of my photos- which will come…soon.
A thing that happened there: I met a lovely woman named Teresa, she took me around and told me the history of the place and she let me take her photo- her face is so open and full of joy- and she gave me a medicine bag that she’d made to hold the small precious things I collect on my trip. I hope we see each other again. This is yet another place I’d like to re visit and spend more time and set up my backdrop and take photos- I think it’s time to start a list. Also, she was the second person to tell me I had to visit Eureka Springs- which is an hour in the exact opposite direction of my goal of Memphis (or Oxford). So, of course I went.
It was a foggy and kind of mysterious feeling drive and I listened to Trailer Bride on the way up which was perfect musical accompaniment because it lightened the mood while maintaining the tone. The other person (at the Fayetteville Whole Foods!) that had told me about Eureka Springs said that every hotel there was haunted- which is a thing I hate- but he said it with such zeal and that combined with his failure to actually describe the place only to say I had to see it for myself- piqued my curiosity. But I wasn’t convinced until Teresa confirmed.
So, yes, Eureka Springs is old and windy and built into the mountain and some people say it’s a hippie town and others say it’s a biker town. I don’t know what a biker town is, but it sounds fun- more interesting than a hippie town - if not as docile. And I still don’t really have the answer. It was mid afternoon when I got there which combined with the season and the weather meant I had about an hour before it got dark. I walked up the hill to the one place that took over my imagination and terrified me when I first learned about Eureka Springs 24 hours earlier- the Crescent Hotel. Like I said, I don’t like ghosts and I don’t like ghosty things, but, for some reason, I felt like I should just go up there and get it over with. It was fiiiiine. It is big and imposing and I wouldn’t stay in any of those rooms for any amount of money- well, any amount short of paying off my entire student loan debt, but I would be wide eyed and awake the entire night. Or I’d take sleeping pills- I don’t know which is better. I didn’t know what to do when I got there, really. I didn’t want to try to feel anything (so why am I there). There was a sign for an observation deck at the top, and as I went outside to observe - basically nothing because of the fog- I imagined that the balcony would mysteriously break and I’d fall to my death. This wasn’t a premonition, this is just the usual terrifying worst case scenario conclusion that I’m blessed to reach in any and most situations. It’s an over active imagination on the wrong end of the scale. Could I think about cool things and winning lots of money and traveling to amazing places? No, I think about mysterious forces plotting my demise.
Anyway! The observation deck. Out there I found a couple from Missouri, with a tiny chihuahua dressed in a sweater. They love the hotel and have a goal to stay in all the most haunted rooms. Despite not asking for any specific details at all, please- no details, they eagerly told me about their experiences staying in the evil doctor’s room and the mysterious pacing they heard- and other things I’ve since blocked out. But, it was fine. They say the ghosts are pranksters in the after life despite spending their time on earth as tortured mental patients on whom experiments were performed by the aforementioned evil doctor whose name I can’t remember. In conclusion, I liked them- the couple. And I may even like those ghosts. They lightened my mood about the place. As did the cotillion/wedding party in the lobby.
I walked back down the mountain and set out to find a place to sleep for the night. I’ll save the back and forth and analysis and internal deliberation about finding the right hotel and just say I finally settled on a Best Western which was truly everything I wanted. A bit out of date, very clean, and mostly quiet. But bright and surrounded by other guests so I didn’t feel like I was living the Ozarks (or is it Ozarka?) version of Twin Peaks.
I’d planned to grab something to eat that evening to check out this mysterious biker/hippie town but as I sat in my car chatting on the phone, I opened a brand new very full bottle of water which spilled directly onto my crotch thus cutting my evening short. It was ok because I was pretty tired and the weather and I were both wet, and I was generally ready to get in bed and write this post. Which I’m finishing 2 days later in the Memphis Whole Foods (On this great journey across the States, I’ve spent as much time as possible in Whole Foods- they are to me what McDonald’s in the 50’s must’ve been- a -mostly- welcoming and familiar face). So, mission started but not completed.
The title of this post! It comes from Whole Foods in Albuquerque. While looking for some salsa for my breakfast burrito, the guy at the burrito bar offered me some pico and then expounded- pico de freako. I loved it so much and I can’t stop whispering it to myself.