Days 23-24

The past two days have been a little depressing, since I still feel sick. My body seems confused as to whether it needs to be fed or would prefer to reject food all together... I've been eating bland things like crackers and bread so as not to offend my cranky stomach.

But yesterday was Independence Day, so I tried to stay cheery. In the morning I researched the town of Cannon Beach. After the first stop, Stella got confused and thought a side street connected to Route 101, when really it led to a big "Dead End" sign. Frustrated, I turned Stella off and decided to try to find my own way. I realized I was in trouble when I had to slam on the brakes to avoid running over a small child whose face was painted like an American flag. The child was scampering back to the bed of a truck that had been decorated in all kinds of horrendous red, white, and blue streamers and paints, resulting in quite the patriotic monstrosity. It was one of many similar trucks... it was a float.

It was a parade.

Panicking, I tried to back up but realized, to my horror, that I was surrounded. Children dashed by, seemingly amock, as their stressed-out mothers tried to organize everyone into a procession of some kind. I rolled down my window and asked a kind-looking old woman how to get back to Route 101. She laughed, "It looks like you're going to be in the parade!"

No, I certainly was not going to be in the parade. I couldn't prevent the fleeting idea that -well - the Focus was red, so at least I would fit into the whole theme if worse came to worst. Shaking the thought, I painstakingly maneuvered the car through the throng, feeling horribly rude and unpatriotic as the townspeople's smiling, confused faces filled me with guilt. A good half-hour later, I emerged onto Route 101 and continued to Seaside.

Seaside was having a festival of its own, but thankfully not one through which I had to drive. I stayed in a hostel right downtown, and after typing up my research from the morning, I headed down to the water to check out the party. I bought an ice cream to help myself get in the mood, but as I wandered through the crowd, I couldn't help feeling overwhelmingly lonely. Everyone knows you don't want to spend Christmas alone, but nobody really thinks about the 4th of July. I had no one with whom to watch the band of middle-aged would-have-beens as they rocked out 80s-style on the stage. I didn't bother buying fried dough, because I knew I wouldn't be able to eat the whole thing and I had no one with whom to share it, laughing as we got powdered sugar down the fronts of our shirts. I ordered a burger for dinner and it was delicious, but I wished it had been grilled by my dad out on our deck.

There were fireworks at 10pm, but I didn't stay downtown for them because I didn't want to have to walk back to the hostel alone in the dark. I got into bed at about 9:45pm, and was the only person in the dorm room besides a cranky, elderly woman with whom I had had an altercation earlier in the night. She had come in at about 8:30 and asked if I would mind turning off the light, since she had to wake up early to go to work. Of course I told her it would be no problem, but she felt compelled to share a tidbit of wisdom before turning in.
She pointed at me and said, "Us poor people have to work for a living!" I nodded, and smiled kindly. She continued, "Listen up, little missy. As a woman, you've got two choices: be poor, or put up with a man!"
I was so taken aback by the ridiculousness of this idea that I laughed aloud. "Well, I'm going to make my own fortune, and then a man will have to put up with me!" I retorted.
Her jaw dropped and she glared at me before shaking her head and getting into bed.

Now I tried to fall asleep as she snored across the room. I heard the first boom of the fireworks and reached for my earplugs. As I sat up in bed, I saw explosions of color in the black sky outside, and realized I had a front row seat to the fireworks! I sat on the bunkbed, watching the whole show out the window of the dorm room, until the finale. This was more like the 4th of July.

Today I made it to Washington! As soon as I crossed the border, it started to rain, confirming the prejudice I held against Washington state. But it was beautiful rain, accentuating the lush greenness of the foliage. It was the type of rain that made me want to be inside the cottage my family has in Plymouth, watching it fall on the pond from behind a screened window. Instead I watched it fall on the Columbia River and the marshes that seemed to border every mile of highway.

It was the first day it's rained on this trip, and although it was lovely, I realized how much I've taken the sunshine for granted. As I arrived at each location to research, I suffered an internal struggle between the side of me that wants to get work done and the side of me that hates getting the bottoms of my jeans wet and fears pneumonia. The dedicated-to-my-job side always won, so by the time I got to the town of Aberdeen, where I'm staying, I was soaked to the skin and the inside of the car was starting to smell musty.

So all in all, my first impression of Washington was a little disappointing (much like that of the settlers who named Cape Disappointment, I suppose), but don't worry, Washington! Tomorrow is a brand new day.