Settling In

We've been home a little while now, almost two weeks. There is a transition period that seems unavoidable when arriving home, or where one spends most of their time. It includes a fear of being overwhelmed, or even worse, finding yourself obsolete. It is a fine balance. To a degree, we treat our return as a secret in effort to sift back in to everything at a reasonable rate.

In regard to reasonable-ness, we chose to return home 4 days earlier than we planned. We left ourselves these days so that, if we couldn't tear ourselves away from the road, we wouldn't have to. But since we've had a nice, full time of it this summer, we chose to get back and get on with things. It is a kindness to our selves to plan days for reintegration. There are bills, mail and banking things; also work related things, collaborative projects that need our end fulfilled and home projects with gardens, food re-stocking and laundry; usually all tended to within an immediate, painful 24 hour period. Not us, we've done this before, and we know it's better to spread all of it out over a few days. Perhaps there is a formula: for every day you are gone, you get 4 hours of reintegration, or something like that. In fact, I would go as far as saying that the measure of a seasoned traveler is the amount of time allotted for settling in.

Socially, we have reintegrated in layers; parents first, then studio mates and close friends, then a few clients, then the rest of the world. We spent a lovely Labor Day weekend with my folks and some of their pals. We happened to all be travelers, and though ours was the most recent and “unique” adventure, we all shared stories of trips taken. We had a lot of wisdom between the 8 of us. We could have formed a travel agency, if such things still exist. Then the Pirate's folks had us over for a wonderful meal with some other motorcycle enthusiasts. The Pirate's mom wrapped up so much food for us to take home that we avoided grocery shopping for two days. Between our parents and our close friends, we've been hosted beautifully since we've been back.

One homecoming ritual that we seem to have is that we sort through everything we own once we return. We did it last year as a necessity of our divorces (that is another story), and without any arm twisting we sorted through it all again this year. It's cleansing, and we are in the perfect mindset to do it. Our energy is fresh, and we haven't laid eyes on any of this shit for two months, so it's easy to get rid of things. I, personally, reduced my belongings by about a third.

Just down the road from us is the coolest super-secret station for sifting one's unwanted things you can imagine. We were able to bring all of the cardboard and trash, and also all of the things that are usually taken to a thrift store. Upon arrival to this place, there are rows of dumpsters with people sorting through all of the “trash” and chucking it into the appropriate receptacle. Stepping out of the car, we hear a grind-y punk rock pumping from a nearby office, and combined with the sounds of breaking glass, compactor motors and general chatter of the people who are sorting, it makes an ideal soundtrack. This entire place is run by two chicks. They are a breed of “pirate”, queens ruling an underworld of free flowing, discarded booty. They dress in black, their wild, curly hair piled on their heads or stuffed under tough looking hats. They are adorned in jewelery as most women, but theirs consists of carabiners and chains, or in some cases, bandages around smashed thumbs. This is their domain, make no mistake. You would be wise to ask their permission before leaving anything, or taking anything. They can cut you with a look, and if that doesn't work, they can kick your ass for real. These pirate queens, holding court in their hot little corner of the world, surrounded by mountains of booty, are no joke. There should be a comic book inspired by them, or at least an animated short film.

We seem to have revisited the cycle of the traditional school year. We take the summers off, and when we return it feels like the beginning of a “new year”. We do our personal budgets, making damn sure that we can leave for the summer again next year. We make lists of projects for the house, and we request each others help for individual projects too. There is a distinct freshness to this time of year, with the lessening light and cooler temperatures. We have coordinated our own energy to take advantage of this, and we hit the ground running.

Roll the Credits

Day 62

The ride today makes up for the one two days ago. The weather is perfectly dry and sunny, with big silvery gray clouds here and there. The morning is absolutely wonderful. My tailbone is still very sore, so I am wiggly today. I must admit, I have never been so acutely aware of my coccyx, and how much I balance the entirety of my weight upon it when I am sitting.

Lunch is in Blowing Rock at the Village Cafe, a quaint little eatery best found by meandering down a fern lined path from Main Street. The Village Cafe has been around forever, I think. In all of it's years, it has probably seated millions of Izod, Talbot's and Liz Claiborne clad asses. It is a sight as interesting as going to the zoo, in my opinion. It's anthropological, to watch these cookie cutter rich folks, whose lack of outward eccentricity diminishes the very wealth that they are so proud and protective of. Anyway, the meal was as uncreative as the majority of the folks eating it, so I won't go in to it's description.

I really love the section of the Parkway between Floyd and just north of Boone. It's my favorite part. It does not have the grandiose features that the Boone section has, like the viaduct or Grandfather Mountain, it's almost because of this that I find it so beautiful. The entire length of the Parkway from Floyd to Asheville is truly magnificent, favorites aside.

We roll into our driveway that we left 62 days ago, peaceful and happy. We are not overly thrilled to be home, nor are we sad that the trip is over. We are simply in the flow, a state of mind that seems to have crept into our psyches without much effort on our parts. It is a nice feeling, to simply be content with whatever is in front of us. We end this trip much as we did the last one: feeling that as long as we are with one another we are home.

The Girl, however, would kiss the ground if she could. We have limped her home, for sure. She still has a bit of a gas leak. Her stator is dead. None of her gauges work: the clock died in the rain on MDI, and the speedometer and tacometer died during her diagnostic surgery in Harold Jackson's garage. The Pirate has become an intuitive pilot, feeling when to get gas, and the correct speeds.

But now, dear readers, about you. You have kept us company on this grand adventure, and for that we are so very grateful. You have been loyal, encouraging, inspiring and constant. You were grounding when we felt lost, interested when we triumphed and patient while we kept you waiting. Thank you. We are humbled and flattered that you stayed with us.

There were a number of people who helped us out directly, and kept us moving along on this adventure like the smooth, seamless castors of a conveyor belt. Thanks to the support crew who looked after us while we were away: Jessamy and Charles & Marlene. Thanks to the folks who let us rest our heads in their homes: Lach, The No-Nox Crew, Amy & Harold Jackson, The Blueberry Campers, Colleen & Cliff, and Elizabeth & Douglas. And thanks to everyone, whether we formally met you or not, who reached out and showed us kindness along the way.

We could never have completed this trip without all of this support and encouragement. But while we're at it, we'd like to ask you for a couple of favors.

~ Find 'The Pirate & The Mermaid' on facebook and 'like' us. Feel free to share our posts.

~Let us know if you'd like for us to keep posting, and about what (motorcycles, food, adventures, restaurant reviews, all of it, none of it...). You can write us on our facebook site, or send an email to pirateandmermaid@yahoo.com.

Well, I guess this is goodnight, ya'll. See you soon.

Giving it a Rest

Day 61

And by “it” I mean my pore, sore ass. Dang. When we woke up this morning, my tail was throbbing, my lower back was sore and my left ribs felt like they were all bruised. Some little bruises on my legs popped up. The Pirate is a little sore, but not nearly as whiny as me.

We mostly rest on the couch today. I write, while The Pirate watched movies. We take sojourns out to the porch in the sun, and then come back in and rest some more. We are worn slap out.

I was thinking today about all of these blogs I've written. They were all written under different circumstances. Sometimes I'm tucked in a nice hotel bed, sometimes I'm in someone's home. I've written these babies at picnic tables, and propped up in our tent, hoping that the battery will last. Sometimes loud ping pong games are going on, or kids laughing or crying, or public transportation is streaming past. People are sometimes speaking French, sometimes English. Sometimes there is land beneath me, sometimes ocean. Each of these entries is banged out and proof read maybe once. I appreciate that you have forgiven all of the effects that should have been affects, within instead of with in, into instead of in to, and etc, ad nauseum. We certainly didn't have a fact checker, a graphic designer or anyone with IT in their official job description. It has been interesting, exposing ourselves in such an unpolished way. It's a vulnerable feeling. Also, after all of this time, I lost my phone charger, so I can't take photos. It's hard not to get frustrated about these things.

The main thing is, The Pirate and I are both creative and project oriented. This blog is our project. It grounds us, and helps direct our otherwise restless creative energy. At first I thought it would feel too task-like, but it's actually more like a pressure release valve. Everyday I fill up with all of these experiences- the sensations, reactions, interpretations and memories in the making-and to get them posted on the blog is like getting the photos off your phone and onto your computer so there's room for more. It's cleansing, and a relief.

So, thanks for reading.