July 19th, 2010

...

Seriously, though, I don't know where to start. Well, because I'm sure you want to know: the consulate did not laugh at me when I presented my documents, in fact, they seemed to have everything they needed, just with one problem -- I didn't have a certified envelope from the post office, which is apparently what they meant when they said "self-addressed pre-paid envelope." So they hemmed and hawed a bit, but I left the envelope I had with them and said I would try to make it back before they closed -- at 1:30pm -- with the certified envelope.

(Wow, I'm getting ahead of myself. It is so amazing how much STUFF you can fit in a weekend).

Well, Raj and I then boogied out to the car and promptly got lost -- we found the post office, all right, but there was apparently no possible way to get in the parking lot, and so we made a couple of harrowing turnarounds and some rather dangerous maneuvers, only to try and turn into the parking lot again and end up on the highway. All things added up to no post office or certified envelope before 1:30. So they HAVE the other envelope -- I've tried several times to call them, but will keep doing so just to make sure they will actually send the passport back to me.

Yes, so Atlanta is confusing. It's a beautiful city; I swear when we plundered along the highway and swung around a turn to see the downtown, with its skycrapers and lights, my heart just opened. Asheville is beautiful, but there are no real tall buildings except for the BB&T tower or whatever it's called, and at night the sky isn't alight with window stars like in the big city, and I guess I didn't realize how much I missed NYC until I saw another big city. I suppose if I knew the city better it wouldn't be such a problem, but I swear over the weekend we needed to make at least five U-turns, and completed about four complete circles.

Also, it is HUMID. The air just hangs over you like a net, and more often than not walking outside is like asking for a sweat bath (lovely). The food is fried and people spend their days -- weekends, at least -- chilling out during the day, drinking beer and eating, then moving out for the night to the bars. Yes, I am generalizing and stereotyping. But there is a certain lifestyle.

I guess I should tell you what we did before I start whining about it, but you should know that it was an amazing and fantastic weekend. What I wanted to say was that as great as it was, it just taught me that without a LOT of getting used to, I don't think I could live in the South. It's probably just that I'm not used to it in any way shape or form, but being here -- and especially in Atlanta, which is much more patently southern than Asheville so far as I can tell -- has reminded me that I really am a yankee at heart. I need my coffee shops and the rhythm of life to click along; Denver and New York City are separate planets but in my mind they're both much more like home. I do miss Denver, though I wonder how much of that is just nostalgia -- but I miss the wide open blue sky and the sunshine, the dryness, and the way the mountains explode from the horizon when you land at Denver International Airport. And of course, New York City. As you know, I've been in love with that place for awhile now (not so long as you might guess, perhaps a year and a half).

Again, I don't know where to begin. Do I need to tell you that Enterprise had a problem with the fact neither of us had insurance or credit cards and refused to rent us a car, so we spent at least an hour and half panicked hours on the phone until Raj's dad decided to be wonderful and lend us his for the weekend? (You saved our butts, Raj's dad, THANK YOU!!!). That it was dark on the way down and I drove most of the way, while Raj played the ukulele and read John Steinbeck's Tortilla Flat out loud (clearly, not at the same time)? Or that we got lost at least three times on the way home and stopped for barbeque in Waynesville, drank coffee that tasted like water and Cheerwine, while I was educated in the arts of the different barbeque sauces? Oh but I have to tell you how on Saturday night in the bar Raj and I hung out in the Elvis shrine, made in an old bank vault, and talked until the show went on.

Well, the details are the best, I suppose. I'd be happy to write down hour by hour what we did after the stress of Friday morning was easing off my back, like how went to the pool and sat drinking budweiser and singing along with Raj and his ukulele, and then later danced the night away at a gay bar, while people kept bringing me drinks and at 1:17am, I stopped being a teenager, then spun home and crashed on a twin size air mattress. Saturday night we went to a bar and saw a friend of Raj's friend (and his, of course) play a show, then went back to the neighbor's place, danced, and drank until 4:30 or so.

We stayed with one of Raj's friends, in a giant warehouse like loft, with one skylight and no windows, high ceiling and open air, looking very much like the sort of place you'd find crazy artists. Very nice -- but the lack of windows was slightly off putting for me, the person who rearranged their entire dorm room so that the bed could be by the window.

So now I'm back in Asheville, for the short time that remains, attempting to be as present as possible. Hilary and I had my little birthday celebration last night, a day late. It wasn't a big deal, just some cake and a few cards, a nice quietly wonderful night to complement the craziness of the weekend.

Until next time.