Day 1

I'm a sad sight to see: sitting cross-legged on the bed of a Motel 6, eating a sandwich and watching That 70s Show. Only now I've finished the sandwich and I'm blogging, so... I guess it's a little less sad. Anyway, I realized something important today: I am going to move through this roadtrip a lot more quickly than I had thought. I have one person to thank, and her name is Stella.

Stella is my GPS. Kitty, with whom I was talking on the phone this evening, told me I should name my GPS to make it seem like someone is in the car with me, and perhaps to feel less silly as I inevitably respond to its directions with, "Okay, taking a left." Now I can say, "Okay, Stella! Thanks, Stella!" Stella means "star" in Italian, and it seems appropriate since my GPS is like my North Star (in that I never get lost as long as I have faith in it). Thank you, Daddy, for giving me Stella for my birthday! Best gift ever.

Last night, I was that loser in the hostel that nobody meets. I really wanted to be social and sit outside on the deck drinking and talking with the other guests, but I was too tired to keep my eyes open. I crawled into bed in my clothes at 9:17pm, and was asleep on-and-off for the next ten hours. I woke up before any of the other girls, got all my stuff together, and went into the kitchen for some free coffee and toast. There I encountered a Frenchman who spoke impeccable English, and who was so enticing and cute that I ended up putting off leaving for an hour and a half as we enjoyed cup after cup of coffee around the table. When I finally told him I ought to go start working, he asked me to write down my name, so he could look me up on Facebook. That made me smile.

Researching, as I said before, went very quickly. I love driving the little Ford Focus, but I need some CDs or something. I'm tired of listening to Spanish talk radio. I think I'll take out a bunch of music at the library in LA, and then return them once I move there! Books on tape would be nice, too... I hope they have a good selection.

I have to admit that even though I feel extremely independent and awesome running around entirely on my own, I am a little scared. While I was showering an hour ago, I thought I saw a shadow on the other side of the shower curtain, and frantically looked around me for something with which to defend myself against a crazy murderer... but could come up with nothing better than my razor, which - conveniently for shaving my underarms, but inconveniently for inflicting bodily harm upon an attacker - has a safety guard. And right before showering, as I was getting my laptop set up, I nearly had a heart attack when I observed in my peripheral vision a dark shadow crossing in front of the window. Of course, it was only the maid with her cart full of cleaning supplies.

Oh, fantastic. On CNN, which I have been watching in the background to make me feel less alone, this just in: "Breaking News: 2 young girls brutally murdered and left in a ditch. Cold-blooded killer may be walking the street tonight!"
That is a direct quote. Sweet dreams to everyone who will not be up all night imagining scenes from Psycho. I'm going to change the channel to watch Jeopardy!